Thursday, 22 March 2012

Deficit, dominance and difference?




The deficit approach. Are women really deficient of male language? I don’t think so. In an era of what is supposed to be equal, just and open-minded, one would think stating that men are more capable of using language than women is purely sexist. Nonetheless, this obviously isn’t the case considering Robin Lacoff believes that women use hedges and empty adjectives which show their uncertainty and tag questions showing they are looking for confirmation. Surely these are all traits of male language as well?



One of the common traits of female language according to Robin Lacoff is the incorrect use of the word ‘like, well I have witnessed many men who frequently use this word in the wrong context. Furthermore, I have come across many women who don’t show signs of using this type of language. Therefore I would agree with Deborah Tannen’s theory, stating that language is demographic and depends on where you’re from, your social class, culture and age. Because it’s true isn’t it? The way you speak depends on mostly, your upbringing; people are influenced by the way the people around them speak. In response to the nature/nurture debate, I would argue that the way in which you use language is largely dependent on the way you’re brought up, not your biological make-up or whether you’re male or female.



As for the dominance approach, I know it is true that many men have the tendency to dominate conversation, but isn’t this purely down to personality and again, your upbringing? It isn’t only men that dominate conversation, many women to this too. There are more women than ever following professional career paths; surely they need confidence and the ability to use dominating language in the board room in order to succeed in this way. Take Margaret Thatcher for example, the only female Prime Minister; can you imagine her being dominated by men in conversation? And there are many other women out there like her who too wouldn’t allow men to dominate them. Despite this, Zimmerman and West still see men dominating conversation as a sign of women having restricted linguistic freedom and men, therefore seeking to impose their dominant status through applying constraints towards women in conversational talk. I believe this theory is far too stereotypical of men and women and also sexist towards women as it states they have restricted linguistic freedom; which doesn’t apply to all women.



The difference approach is too stereotypical, yes, some males and females speak differently but this isn’t determined by their gender alone. This approach seems to state that women speak in one particular way and men in another and argues that this is because men and women belong to different subcultures. But this simply isn’t the case. How can this possibly be true when there are so many men and women each with different personalities? We can’t put people into specific groups according to how they use language and suggest that just because you’re female you use more politeness strategies and if you’re male you are more direct and aggressive with conversation, for example. Everyone is different and your gender doesn’t determine the way in which you use language, it is based on factors such as where you live and the family you come from. Yet, Jennifer Coates believes that all-female talk is essentially cooperative in the way speakers help to negotiate conversation and support each other’s rights as speakers. But this doesn’t happen in all all-female talk, it depends on who is part of the conversation.  Some men use language in this way too and some females don’t.



All in all, these three approaches are far too stereotypical and we can’t say someone uses language the way they do just because they are either male or female. The way you speak depends on your family background, age, culture and social class. For example someone living in London will have different language strategies than someone from Somerset. Similarly, someone with a middle class background is likely to speak differently from someone with a working class background.










Thursday, 29 September 2011

Stay Safe on the Slopes!

If you are ever in this distressing situation, whatever you do, make sure you don't do what I did; get separated from your family.

It was as freezing as Antarctica and the snow was cascading down like an avalanche. I could barely feel my face. We were making our way to the chairlift at the ski resort in Mount Blanc, Canada. The feeling of excitement and trepidation was racing through me. Until, I realised I had been separated from my family.

I was so alarmed that my skiis slipped forward slightly. As I looked over my shoulder, I could see the chairlift chasing after me. It scooped me up, at that moment I realised I couldn't reach the bar. I was trapped.

My heart was beating a thousand beats a second and the screaming orders of my dad were sending my brain into a mad spin. I didn't know what to do. "Sit back and hold on tight", my dad cried. But it wasn't working; I could feel the colossal weight of my skiis pulling me away from the chairlift. It was impossible to hold on.

The journey up the mountain proceeded and I felt a judder as the chairlift rolled over the junction. At this point, the chair started rocking viciously; the whirlwind made it a million times worse. I tried to hold on but the chair was covered in a layer of slippery ice so sent me sliding around on the seat and the weight of my skiis were still pulling me further towards the ground.

Eventually, I managed to haul myself up. I was holding on for dear life although I was beginning to think it was going to end very soon. All I could hear was the wind whisteling through my ears. I was desperate to turn around to see what my dad was trying to tell me, but I knew I would plummet to the ground within seconds.

Through the fog, I could slightly see the end of the rocky ride, which indicated it was nearly over. Every second that passed meant I was a step closer to freedom. After a short while, I felt my skiis touch the smooth snow. I breathed a sigh of relief.