As I reminisce on them and compare them to what I hear and the literacies I’ve adjusted to in my everyday life, it is evident how different they are. As my secondary discourse in West Virginia becomes more prominent to me, so does my compassion. The stereotyping and judgement their language undergoes has become more noticeable to me as I grow up and mature. I try to picture my friends in California, and the reaction they would have witnessing the discourse that I am use to in West Virginia. If they sat with me at the dinner table with my family back home, what facial expressions would they make if they heard my uncle say, “I don’t want no piddlin’ of mashed taters,” Would they judge him? Would they judge me? If I hadn’t visited West Virginia since I was little, and only visited every few years, would I be judgmental to the ways they communicate too? Even if I was unfamiliar with their language, would I still be able to sense the warmth and neighborly feeling they radiate despite their “broken”
As I reminisce on them and compare them to what I hear and the literacies I’ve adjusted to in my everyday life, it is evident how different they are. As my secondary discourse in West Virginia becomes more prominent to me, so does my compassion. The stereotyping and judgement their language undergoes has become more noticeable to me as I grow up and mature. I try to picture my friends in California, and the reaction they would have witnessing the discourse that I am use to in West Virginia. If they sat with me at the dinner table with my family back home, what facial expressions would they make if they heard my uncle say, “I don’t want no piddlin’ of mashed taters,” Would they judge him? Would they judge me? If I hadn’t visited West Virginia since I was little, and only visited every few years, would I be judgmental to the ways they communicate too? Even if I was unfamiliar with their language, would I still be able to sense the warmth and neighborly feeling they radiate despite their “broken”