What does he mean by ‘I love you?’

(Reposting, see original here)

Have you ever had difficulty expressing your emotions in words? Have people misinterpreted what you feel even if you name it? If you speak more than one language, you’re almost certain to have answered “yes”.

I am Spanish. My husband is American. The first time I realized emotion words may not mean the same in different languages was when he first told me “I love you”. I liked it, but I didn’t know what he meant. After all, people in English also say they love ice-cream, or biking. Certainly, context (and the look in my husband’s eyes) helped me understand I was more cherished than his two-wheeled vehicle. But in Spanish we don’t use the same verb to designate what we enjoy and what we love romantically, so did “I love you” mean the same as “te quiero”?

This is the kind of question I investigate in my job. I am a linguist at the Swiss Center for Affective Sciences, an interdisciplinary research center at the University of Geneva devoted to the study of emotion. In my specific line of work, we look at the meaning of emotion words, like “love” or “pride”, across languages and cultures. Our project, called “GRID”, brings together linguists and psychologists from 34 countries around the world interested in a topic both psychologists and linguists often have heated debates about: to what extent emotions are the same or different across languages and cultures.

To answer this question empirically, we use a questionnaire and ask people around the world about the meaning of their emotion words. Questions are made about the various “components of emotion”, that is, the basic aspects of experience commonly believed to compose an emotional episode. These include, among others, the way we perceive events around us (was this intentional? is it controllable?), the way our body reacts (e.g. increased heart rate, shivers, blushing), or the way we express our feelings (e.g. frowning, smiling, crying). The responses allow us to compose a mean semantic profile for those words that we can then compare across languages and countries. So far we have investigated the meaning of 24 emotion terms in 23 languages and 27 countries.

Some big commonalities can be found. For example, around the world, our emotional vocabularies seem to be organized in terms of four basic dimensions: words can vary on whether they are more or less positive or negative (like love and hate, respectively), active or inactive (like joy and sadness), strong or weak (like anger and fear), and expected or unexpected (like contentment and surprise). The high correlation scores obtained across data samples also suggest that the meaning of these words is fairly similar across languages. Importantly, this applies to the so-called basic emotions – like fear or anger – which have been hypothesized to be biologically primary and universal, but also to the social emotions – like shame or guilt – which were assumed to vary more from culture to culture.

In addition to the regularities, differences can also be found between languages. For example, Spanish “despair” (“desesperación”) designates a more excited emotion than English “despair”. The latter means, for instance, that when I say I feel “despair”, I may be clenching my teeth and pulling my hair out. By contrast, when my husband says he feels “despair”, he is more likely to have bowed his head and covered his face with his hands.

Interestingly, differences can also be found between countries that speak the same language. For example, the meaning of French “serenité” (serenity) seems to be more positive in Canada than Gabon, and indeed the facial expression of “serenité” in Canada has been found to include a smile, whereas in the African country, “serenity” has more of a neutral face.

More surprisingly perhaps, differences can also be found within the same country. The meaning of “orgoglio” (pride) seems to be slightly different in the North and the South of Italy. In the North, for example, one typically feels “orgoglio” about the things one has done oneself, whereas in the South it can also be felt about things done by others, like one’s kin.

Research at the intersection of language, culture and emotion can shed light on important topics like the cultural traits that influence our emotional representations, and the role of linguistic categories in the emergent quality of emotional experience. The project also has applications for the study of bilingualism (how do our emotion concepts change when we speak more than one language?), emotional intelligence (how does our linguistic knowledge of emotions affect our empathic and adaptive skills?), and pathologies (is the meaning of emotion words different in autistic people with no linguistic deficit but affective handicaps?).

The research agenda is highly motivating because it has applications in real life. A better understanding of the meaning of emotion words is useful to make sense of our emotions and the emotions of others in different languages and contexts, and this is of crucial importance in an increasingly multilingual and interconnected world.

Original post: https://blog.oup.com/2014/02/emotion-words-across-language-culture/

El día de la mujer

Cuando llega el 8 de marzo algunos piensan que es un día de celebración en el que hay que felicitar a las mujeres por ser mujeres. Pero el día de la mujer no es para “celebrar a las mujeres”. Es para denunciar y recordar que ser mujer sigue siendo un handicap en muchos contextos y partes del mundo. Por raro  que le parezca a la mentalidad moderna media de los países industrializados y democráticos, ser mujer (biológica, de género, o ambas) no es una variable inofensiva como tener los ojos marrones. No es un detalle sin importancia. Puede costarte la libertad, la integridad física, o incluso la vida. Y en el mejor de los casos, puede condicionar tu estilo de vida de manera desventajosa con respecto a las personas del otro sexo o género.

Para algunos de nosotros en los países industrializados y democráticos la relevancia del día de la mujer se articula en el marco de la lucha por la igualdad de derechos y oportunidades en el ámbito laboral y doméstico. Y esa lucha – inacabada a pesar de los avances – sigue siendo importante. Sobre todo de cara a los cambios climáticos y los riegos que suponen para el equilibrio social y los sistemas políticos y económicos de los que (algunos) nos beneficiamos actualmente. La crisis climática amenaza con una crisis del bienestar que afectará primero – como siempre – a las mujeres. Tenemos que estar atentos.

Pero para la mayor parte del mundo el día de la mujer “no va de eso”. Va de recordar que ser mujer es igual de valioso que ser hombre (porque no está claro en todas partes), de recordar que tenemos los mismos derechos humanos (a la libertad, a la autodeterminación de nuestra vida, al acceso a la educación y al mercado laboral), que nuestra integridad física no es negociable ni utilizable como arma, ni está sujeta a tradiciones culturales.

También va de recordar y honrar a las que pagaron el precio de estas injusticias hasta ahora, con vidas silenciadas o esclavizadas, hijos arrebatados, caras mutiladas, clitoris extirpados, cuerpos violados o apaleados, o simplemente muertas. 

Los grados de violencia y de injusticia hacia las mujeres varían de unos grupos humanos a otros, y con el tiempo.  Pero no son algo del pasado ni son algo lejano, por desgracia. Incluso aquí, en países industrializados y democráticos, basta una guerra. Basta una penuria económica transitoria. Basta una mala pareja. Y ¡bam! lo impensable se hace cotidiano.

Pasar por el día de la mujer y no pararse a pensarlo es un privilegio de unos cuantos que, o no son mujer, o no saben mirar muy lejos. Y es por ellos también que el día de la mujer es necesario. Cristina Soriano (8 marzo 2023)

Una voz

Mi padre ya no sabe hablar. Su Alzheimer se lo impide. Y mi padre quería que yo escribiera. Toda la vida me pidió que lo hiciese, ya sea para publicar algo privadamente, para contribuir a un periódico, o de cualquier otra manera. Él pensaba que yo sabía escribir. Yo pensaba que era él quien sabía (y lo sigo pensando). Pero ahora pienso que da igual quien sepa escribir, que lo importante es tener algo que contar. Y últimamente pienso que sí tengo algo que contarme a mí y que contarle a él. Y como él ya no puede hablar, ni leer, ni escribir, ahora escribo yo. Por los dos. Como si él pudiera leerme y hasta que yo pueda escribirle. Porque tarde o temprano seré yo quien ocupe su lugar. Así que aquí empieza este blog, para él, para mí y para cualquiera que quiera escucharnos. Mi padre ya no sabe hablar. Pero yo aún tengo una voz