Reclaimin the muther tongue
The revival ae native languages lit Scots isny jus aboot linguistics – it’s aboot identity, culture, freedom ae expression, an rejectin imperialism ae the past in the present.
By Devon McCole | Photo by Iain McLellan
It's no hard tae feel like the gods ae the auld world still rule supreme when aw wur news an social media feeds show a neverendin barrage a clips ae world leaders fightin er territories, occupyin lands by force an policin people based oan their cultural differences or race. Many ae us probably feel lit we are still bein governed by remnants ae imperial law.
Whilst thas sadly true in many weys, it’s also true thit people huv found their ain ways tae fight back. A personally hink it’s why wur seein such a revival ae native languages here in Scotland an aw er the UK. This resurgin interest in, an celebration ae, native languages lit Scots, Welsh an Gaelic’s a reclamation ae national identity and an act ae resistance – it’s a preservation ae oral traditions that’ve historically bin met wae hostility an oppression.
Languages lit Welsh, Gaelic, Scots, Cornish an that had basically almost bin snuffed oot completely by the rulin British Empire, who favoured ‘the Queen’s English’. Institutions ae the empire cawed the use ae other languages native tae the British Isles as barbaric an discouraged thur use in deliberately destructive weys.
In Scotland, they passed legislation lit the Scottish Privy Council Act in 1616 to remove the ‘barbaritie and incivilitie’ ae Scottish Gaelic fae existence – paintin the diverse peoples and cultures of the UK as nuthin more than uncivilised an deservin ae subjugation. In the past, wains in schools were even verbally or physically ‘corrected’ by teachers (beware the flyin duster!) if they wur caught speakin the language they spoke at hame in the classroom. They wur shamed, made tae feel less intelligent cause that’s how they were classified by the rulin classes.
The effects a this ar still felt tae this day. In oor everyday lives, withoot even consciously knowin it, many ae us Scots code-switch – fae ‘aye’ tae ‘yes’ fae ‘naw’ tae ‘no’. It’s no uncommon tae feel lit even in schools an workplaces the day that wur still bein penalised for how wi speak. A for wan remember a print-oot ae a tombstone oan the waw ae ma English classroom that wis inscribed wae common Scots words – dead oan the nose init? It always annoyed me. A guess naebody likes bein telt ther wrang when, fae day dot, thas how yer family and friends wid speak tae ye. They’d delight ye wi patter ye’d never heard before, frighten ye wi an awful warnin, an comfort ye wi words n sayin’s yer gran’s granny wid’ve used.
But mibbe it wis also cause we wid study Scottish plays in Drama that used a lot a Scots – lit The Steamie – but then in English ye’d get a tellin aff fir speakin lit that. ‘Rude’ a mind is wit wan teacher told mi when a spoke ma typical Glasweigian, ‘it doesn’t sound smart’ she said. It wis nae wunner a couldnae understawn hawf the text in Drama – they certainly didny teach us how tae write the wey wi speak ‘cause even that wisny really allowed. Neds is wit they calt us actually – or a ‘wee hairy’: “You sound like a hairy don’t talk like that!”
I hated feelin this sense a familiarity wae the characters in The Steamie, thur words and how they reminded mi ae ma gran an granda, an still a didny feel Scottish enough tae understawn a lot ae the text. It isny lit Middle English, Scots, yi know? The Steamie was based aroon the 1950’s. Thas recent history. Ma gran an granda remember days lit that an still it felt ancient tae me tryin tae read it in that classroom. A wis pretty sure naebody in that classroom wis qualified tae read Scots.
A still remember the amazement a felt at how much the language bein spoken in Glasgow hid changed or been lost ‘cause it jus isny recorded or really said anymer. Scriever Emma Grae hit the nail bang on the heid when she wrote that Scots is a livin language, no a’weys recorded bit a’weys spoken an constantly evolvin. Jus ‘cause Scots wisny formally recorded, doesny make it any less valid as a national language.
So who gits tae record oor wey a speakin, who gets tae tell us wits right an wrang when it comes tae communicatin wi each other? For the longest time we didny huv the ‘luxury’ tae speak an record oor languages as we saw fit, fur it wis deemed too ‘barbaric’ tae preserve wance upon a time – and wit’s a ‘ned’ but the modern day ‘barbarian’ in a shiny new jaiket? The words they use tae put us doon may change, but the tactics never do.
It’s pervasive. A common hing ye’d hear people say anaw wis ‘aw a hate hearin people talk Scottish oan telly…it’s horrible’. Well folks we didny pull that idea oot a thin air, did we? That’s how deep the scars ae colonialism go. It breeds self hatred, and diminishes the value ae others that don’t sound lit yersel.
In the past, people livin under British rule have been taught thur Scottishness, thur Irishness or thur Welshness – thur cultural differences, thur spoken languages – wis wrang. Thas changin noo. Take a look at KNEECAP. They’re a prime example ae the power a reclaimin the muther tongue.
Scots is noo bein recognised as it’s ain language, so it’s likely gonnae be taught in mare classrooms. It’s nice tae see cultural pride be expressed in a wey that isny pittin doon others fur their differences, bit instead focuses oan individual freedom ae expression. It’s nice tae see folk are releasin thursels ae the shackles ae the empire a auld in that wey.
The publisher acknowledges receipt of the Scottish Government’s Scots Language Publication Grant towards this publication.
