This was a final term paper for a graduate level course on Narrative Analysis.
Background
Migration across borders of languages, cultures, and countries engender possibilities and problems alike, and “as people shuttle between communities, they hold in tension their diaspora identities with other locally relevant identities” (Canagarajah & Silberstein, 2012). Questions of ‘who am I?’ and ‘where do I belong?’ affect many people, none so much as those who live transnational and bi/multicultural lives whilst having to answer questions of where they are “from”. Widespread concerns about the loss of heritage exist among migrant communities, especially as language transmission to subsequent generations diminishes. For some minority groups, preserving heritage through language becomes of utmost importance, perhaps as a way to maintain a sense of identity. Cho’s (2000) study of 1.5 and second-generation Korean Americans found that participants with greater heritage language competence showed a stronger sense of who they are. Migrants from formerly colonised countries where the language of the host country was already instantiated as part of the linguistic repertoire in the home country find maintenance of the heritage language more difficult after moving (Canagarajah, 2008; Ọlátúnjí, 2023). Consequently, for the 1.5 and second generation of Yorùbá in the UK, questions of identity become increasingly complex. The already loaded question of ‘where are you from?’ could be answered in a multitude of ways as individuals make choices – or are forced to choose – how and with what or whom to identify.
In 2019, I carried out research for my master’s dissertation in search of answers to the question: “why don’t we speak our mothers’ tongue?” (Ọlátúnjí, 2023). The “we” in this study were the 1.5 and second generation of Yorùbá Britons. During the interviews I had asked questions about life histories, practices and beliefs related to heritage language within their families. Notions of identity invariable arose in follow up questions. For this paper here, I present a re-analysis of excerpts from a narrative perspective with a focus on identity. Revisiting the transcripts through a narrative lens, I looked at unprompted, conversational narratives that emerged during the interviews. I was interested in the function of the small stories; i.e. what they were used to say about the narrators and the wider context in which we were situated. Although there were stories lamenting loss of language and culture, what emerged as most interesting were the narratives of contested identities and the intricate dynamics of identity negotiation.
Conceptual framework
Although identity is a complicated construct that evades any simple definition, much of recent identity research adopts a social constructivist perspective which views identity as a social process. It is not a fixed entity nor something that belongs to the individual, rather it is the self that emerges (and re-emerges) through social action in interactions. Identity construction is thus achieved through discursive and communicative work (Zimmerman and Wieder 1970, cited De Fina & Georgakopoulou, 2011a). Despite the centrality of the individual that this understanding alludes to, another widely agreed component of identity involves claiming membership or belonging to a social group or category. Group membership, and thus the delineation of its limits, is key in identity construction. At times the criteria for categorization and the social consequences of belonging to them are openly discussed and contested. Other times they are subtly indexed through other linguistic and extra linguistic semiotic resources and cues (De Fina & Georgakopoulou, 2011a)
People reveal who they are in the stories they tell about themselves and others. At times we may reveal unconscious beliefs and biases, but often the aim is to convey positive images of ourselves (De Fina & Georgakopoulou, 2011a). Storytelling is thus a process through which a narrator attempts to do something with their audience or interlocutors. From this interactional perspective, narrative activity can be a tool for self-presentation, for collaboratively reflecting upon specific situations, and for making meaning of our lived experiences. This social practice lends itself to the study of identity and the discursive positions that individuals take up when making sense of their lives (Higgins & Sandhu, 2014).
Self-presentation can be conveyed through the content, form, and performance of a narrative. Consequently, in order for any narrative analysis to be comprehensive, Pavlenko (2007) writes that it must involve attention to content, context, and form of narrative data. Although the pendulum in narrative studies has swung away from structural questions, there is still merit in drawing from the 1967 Labovian (Labov & Waletzky, 1997) tradition of narrative analysis to assist with addressing the form component of analysis, i.e. how narratives are told. The increasing importance of context in narrative analysis has led to a focus on the interactional nature of narrative and the stories that emerge in conversation or naturally in interviews. These everyday, ephemeral narratives arising from talk-in-interaction conceptualized as “small stories” (Bamberg & Georgakopoulou, 2008) can include tellings of ongoing, future or hypothetical, and shared (known) events, but it also captures allusions to (previous) tellings, deferrals of tellings, and refusals to tell (Bamberg & Georgakopoulou, 2008, p. 381). These small stories can serve as large windows through which to view identity work at a micro and macro level.
The concept of positioning has informed numerous studies of identity and narrative since Davies and Harré introduced it in 1990 as “the discursive process whereby selves are located in conversations as observably and subjectively coherent participants in jointly produced story-lines” (1990, p. 48). According to their article, positions are identified by “extracting the autobiographical aspects of a conversation in which it becomes possible to find out how each conversant conceived of themselves and of the other participants”. Bamberg’s (1997) three-tiered framework for positioning analysis has been widely taken up because of its flexibility in connecting the representation of characters and plot in local storytelling (level 1), to positioning in the microcontext of the narrative interaction (level 2) with the macro-context of social discourses on identity (level 3). Although this sequential model implies a linearity that may oversimplify the chaotic and iterative nature of narrative analysis, it allows for analysts to observe how the way the referential world points to how the teller wants to be understood (Bamberg & Georgakopoulou, 2008, p. 380).
Particularly pertinent to the small stories is the notion of reported speech, or constructed dialogue (Tannen, 1989; De Fina & Georgakopoulou, 2011b). Tannen asserts that reported speech is not reported at all, but creatively constructed by a current speaker in a current situation (1989, p. 105). Reformulating ideas as dialogue rather than statements is a strategy for effective communication and involvement with the audience (1989, p. 110). Often used as an evaluative tool, constructed dialogue can contribute to the self-presentation of the narrator. Instead of openly discussing their moral principles and beliefs, narrators often voice them through dialogues of the story world characters (De Fina & Georgakopoulou, 2011a), thus making it an interesting site of identity construction.
Method
My familiarity with the interview transcripts of 2019 coupled with my desire to shed light on the data from a new perspective meant I opted for a grounded approach to the analysis as I attempted to move inductively upward from data to theoretical rendering. (Charmaz, 2002). Although I did not initially approach the data with specific research questions, through the iterative process of analysis, I became motivated by the desire to understand the function of the small stories, and what they reflected about the storytellers and their wider world view. I revisited the transcripts and began by labelling instances of constructed dialogue and identifying the story in which they were embedded. I coded these stories In Vivo and the recurring references to nationality, race, and location connected the excerpts presented here.
The participants
The excerpts taken for this paper are parts of interviews with three of the original fourteen participants conducted in Summer 2019. The longer excerpt (Appendix A) is a conversation between Kúnmi (me) and Dúpẹ́, and the two shorter excerpts are between Kúnmi and Péjú (Appendix B) and Kúnmi and Tobi (Appendix C) respectively. We are of a similar age, (born between 1986 and 1990), born or brought to the UK as young children and can be defined very broadly as heritage speakers of the Yorùbá language.
Dúpẹ́ was born in Nigeria, but migrated with her parents as an infant. She described herself as being able to understand simple Yorùbá, often related to household chores. At the time of the interview, Dúpẹ́ was taking lessons in Yorùbá at SOAS University of London to try to improve her language proficiency as a way to reconnect to the culture she had shunned as a child and adolescent. She had also learned Spanish, and had spent some time in rural Japan as part of the Japanese Exchange and Teaching (JET) program.
Péjú was born in London and had lived all of her life in the UK. She had travelled to Nigeria, but not for any extensive periods. At the time of the interviews Péjú and Tobi were engaged. She expressed a desire to learn Yorùbá to pass it on to children they planned to have.
Tobi was born in Nigeria but travelled between there and the UK as a child before settling in London with his mother after his parents divorce at age 10. Tobi describes himself as having a basic handle on Yorùbá having learned it from his mother.
Data & Analysis
Below, I present six excerpts. Four are taken from the interview with Dúpẹ́ and the last two are with Tobi and Péjú respectively. The instances of reported speech are bolded and narrative structure labelled for reference as I occasionally refer to them.
| Transcription labeling key |
| AB – abstract OR – orientation CA – complicating actions EV – evaluations RES – resolution CO – coda SR – story request CT – co-telling |
Excerpt 1 – English in Japan?
- Dúpẹ́: And I remember when one of the schools I was in AB/OR
- were told they were going to get a British JET AB
- And I’ll never forget how confused they were when I was Black CA
- and they were just expecting some CA
- Prince Charles looking blonde White man to walk into their room. CA
- A lot of the time when I was in Japan OR
- and I’d be like “イギリス人です” [I’m English/British] CA
- and they’ll just be like “イギリス人?” [English/British?] CA
- And then I just started to think a lot more like “okay shit, EV
- maybe I’m British to British people, EV
- but I’m not on a global scale, like and I’m not in this context. EV
- So maybe I should start thinking about who I am and what I am, RES
- and not try and hide from that and take pride in it.” RES
In this small story, Dúpẹ́ narrates an experience that led to her embracing a Nigerian identity. The story, set in Japan, features her and her Japanese colleagues (line 8) and the wider Japanese citizenry (line 14). The image of Prince Charles is evoked as a cultural reference point used to index a stereotype and preconceived notions of Englishness that Dúpẹ́’s Japanese colleagues held. Prince Charles’s representation of a certain British identity – white, aristocratic, and English – stands in stark contrast to Dúpẹ́’s and represents the racial and cultural stereotypes that she would have had to navigate in asserting her British identity. This semiotic resource is used with a hint of irony to underscore the surprise and confusion when her Japanese colleagues meet their Black-British, English language teaching assistant and reflects a wider narrative of national identity often being linked to specific racial and cultural images.
The ‘complicating action’ of the story is narrated through reported speech (constructed dialogue) as “instantiation” (Tannen, 1989) in which Dúpẹ́ presents the frequent incredulity of her Japanese hosts towards her asserted identity. Dúpẹ́’s use of Japanese is significant for positioning herself in the storied world and in the interview (the storytelling world). It reflects genuine interactions and demonstrates that Dúpẹ́ attempted to integrate into the local context. In the storytelling world, Dúpẹ́ projects an authenticity to her lived experience and in doing so engenders sympathy for her identity struggles. Her use of this linguistic resource, without translation, highlights an implicit shared understanding between her and Kúnmi who had also spent time in Japan, learnt Japanese, and experienced difficulties adjusting to the culture. The Japanese “イギリス人です” can be translated as ‘English’ or ‘British.’ Both Dúpẹ́ and Kúnmi can appreciate the subtle nuances that イギリス人です obscures (articulated later in lines 70-72 and 87-95, Appendix A). In using the Japanese term, Dúpẹ́ avoids the complexity of labelling herself as English in English.
Dúpẹ́’s evaluation of her story is told through a constructed dialogue of her inner thoughts in the storied world (lines 17 – 21). Doing so reflects a shift in attitude towards herself during that time. Living in Japan was a crucial turning point for Dúpẹ́’s self-identification because her asserted identity was frequently contested in a way she was not used to at home. Dúpẹ́’s storyline of herself is transformed by the incomprehension of her as British, and thus she re-position herself as someone who does not hide from, but rather takes pride in another identity that she had previously shunned; being Nigerian. Through the narrative we can also see that Dúpẹ́ came to a realization that identity is context specific; she is not received in the same way everywhere she goes. This local narrative reflects broader ideas about race and nationality. Racial stereotypes are transported globally and affect perceptions of who can assert a national identity.
The interaction here is somewhat characteristic of the interviewer-interviewee relationship. As the interviewer, Kúnmi gives space for Dúpẹ́ to recount her story without interruption or much interaction. However, in excerpt 2 that immediately follows, it’s possible to see more instances of co-tellership.
Excerpt 2 – Being heckled in China
- Kúnmi: I had a similar umm, similar experiences living in China AB-∅
- Dúpẹ́: Oh gosh! I went to China a few times when I was in Japan. AB-1
- But I like– Did you live in China? SR
- K: mmm
- D: I don’t know how you did that, honestly! EV
- K: ((laughs)) [why? SR
- D: I just– I think– Just– yeah. I just couldn’t have done it. CO
- K: I actually enjoyed my time in [China more than [Japan. OR
- D: [Really? [Japan? Really?
- But weren’t you constantly just being touched and harrased CA-1
- and people taking pictures of you on the sly, and–? Wow! CA-1
- K: But I think– yeah absolutely. I couldn’t walk down the street CA-1
- without being heckled ((laughs)) CA-1
- D: [yeah exactly CT
- K: “Hellooo!” CA-1
- I’m like, “okay, you can’t say any more than that, CA-1
- are you actually heckling me to engage in conversation? CA-1
- D: [Yea:::::h exactly CT
- K: [“No, you’re not, so stop it” EV
This excerpt highlights the elements of talk-in-interaction between Dúpẹ́ and Kúnmi as they take part in the co-telling of multiple small stories (full conversation in Appendix A). The sequential implication of Dúpẹ́’s first story in Excerpt 1 is for Kúnmi to attempt an aligning second story (line 11). However, Kúnmi’s second story fails to launch at this moment. From De Fina and Georgakopoulou’’s (2011b) perspective this second story was not treated as sequentially implicative, although it was not completely ignored, only deferred, as the complicating action of this narrative is returned to later (line 57, Excerpt 3). The ‘abstract’ in line 11, that also sets the scene (“living in China”) immediately prompts an alternative, more imperative, story thread from D. However, she cuts herself off (lines 22 and 26) and leaves the story hanging; we do not know what happened when she travelled to China a few times, even after Kúnmi prompts (line 25).
Dúpẹ́’s “refusal to tell” (Bamberg & Georgakopoulou, 2008) here is powerful, especially as in lines 24 and 26 her stance (in the Labovian evaluation and coda) is very clear: living in China was undesirable, even unfathomable to her. Instead of telling the story, Dúpẹ́ requests that Kúnmi take on the role of narrator. Although Dúpẹ́ has been to China a few times, Kúnmi’s experience living in China affords her the “telling rights” here as the primary “owner” of the story (De Fina & Georgakopoulou, 2011b). However, when the plot that begins to unfold in line 27 conflicts with Dúpẹ́’s internalized narrative she presents a storyline (line 29-30) to facilitate cooperation in the narrative process. Kúnmi corroborates and Dúpẹ́’s incredulous “really?” in line 28 become “yeah exactly” in lines 33 and 37.
In the end, the story that launches here reflects other stories in the public discourse about ‘living in China while Black’, a fabled experience characterised by unwanted attention and harassment often seen reproduced in social and mainstream media (see Greenwood Davies, 2017). Dúpẹ́ believes this narrative merits telling in this context, despite already knowing the storyline. By having Kúnmi narrate this story at this point Dúpẹ́ can validate her experience (that she refused to tell) or possibly look to Kúnmi for insights in how she coped. The interlocutors had already connected over similar experiences in Japan, so co-telling this story set in China may cement a sense of solidarity between them. The ordinary power distribution differentials in an interview context is shifted as Dúpẹ́ (interviewee) becomes co-narrator of Kúnmi’s (interviewer) story, perhaps facilitating a more relaxed, honest, and authentic interviewing experience.
In this excerpt, the narrators collaborate to position Kúnmi as a victim of harassment. Neither mention explicitly who the harasser or heckler are, but the implication is that they are local Chinese individuals who do not speak English. In line 34, Kúnmi employs style in the constructed dialogue that mocks the hecklers, and she too uses constructed dialogue of her inner speech to demonstrate her stance against this behaviour towards her. Unlike Dúpẹ́’s, the resolution of this story did not result in Kúnmi questioning herself. Instead she positions herself as someone assertive who’s internal beliefs would not be changed or challenged by her external environment. Even in line 31, K’s “yeah absolutely” indicated her acceptance of the challenges of being Black while abroad, but not being negatively impacted by it.
Excerpt 3 – The second story
- Kúnmi: Like they’ll just talk about you like you can’t hear
- And sometimes you do hear. So it was kind of hard. So when you’re like–
- I remember there were two little boys in McDonalds or something AB
- D: mmhmm CT
- K: And this is when I was like– my ears had opened up OR
- And they were like, “Hey, look, that’s an African!” CA
- I turned around and I was like “I’m not an African, I’m British” CA
- And they were like ((long inhale gasp)) CA
- D: [((giggles)) CT
- K: First of they were so shocked that I could understand EV
- and that I dared to reply EV
- D: [yeah CT
- K: And second of all, they were really curious EV
- and were like, “you’re British? –or English”— CA
- D: mmmmm CT
- K: Cos there is no concept of British actually, EV
- outside of Britain, that’s [inaudible] EV
- D: That’s— that’s also a thing yeah, yeah, yeah, so true! CT
- K: So, I was like “I’m English” CA
- And they were like “You’re English? Really? No! CA
- How can you be English, you’re Black?” RES
- And I was like “m̃m̃m̃” And then I left ((intonation mimicking ‘I don’t know’)) RES
- D: [Yeah! CT
After a series of stories that followed the thread of ‘Being Black in China’, Kúnmi returns to the second story she attempted to launch in line 11 that aligns with Dúpẹ́’s experience of her identity being challenged in Japan. Kúnmi narrated an event that transpired between herself and “two little boys” set in a McDonalds in China, signalling the ‘everydayness’ of people talking about her. The boys in this story are positioned as bold yet ignorant, the phrasing of the reported speech “that’s an African” lacks tact and sensitivity. Through it, Kúnmi demonstrated how her identity was reduced to a broad and simplistic mis-label. The boys are representative of wider society’s ignorance about race and nationality, particularly with respect to Africa and Black people. Once confronted, the boys express surprise and also incredulity at K’s asserted identity. In this we find the alignment with Dúpẹ́’s experience. The departure is in how Kúnmi responds to the confusion of the locals in this context. Rather than triggering an identity crisis, Kúnmi asserts her identity again (line 73) and positions herself, as in excerpt 2 as unchanged or unchangeable by the experience, despite acknowledging that it is not an easy one to be constantly faced with (line 56). The wider discourses of race and nationality that were implied in Dúpẹ́’s story are overtly stated without any delicacy in Kúnmi’s story (line 75). The end of the story is in fact left unresolved as Kúnmi does not offer the characters (society) an answer to the question of who she is.
Excerpt 4 – No you’re not!
- Dúpẹ́: And I remember one night we had this house guest AB
- but every time we had a house guest it was nice OR
- I would introduce myself, I’d say my name, “I’m from the UK”. OR
- But one time this man was like “Where are you from?” CA
- And I was like “I’m from the UK” CA
- and he just flipped out at me. It was really strange. CA
- He was just like “What?” and I said “I’m from the UK” CA
- “No you’re not” And he was like CA
- “Look at your skin, your skin is as black as mine. CA
- You can’t be from there. Where are you from?” CA
- And then I was just like “Oh” RES
- You know all the subtle ways people are like EV
- “Oh where are you really from?” EV
- This was like the most unsubtle, like– ((laughs)) EV
- And I was like “I’m Nigerian” RES
- but then I felt so– I must’ve then felt ashamed, that they– EV
- did he think that I was trying to, like, hide that my– I’m Nigerian. EV
- I didn’t particularly, at that point feel very Nigerian, EV
- but I didn’t want him to think I didn’t want to associate myself with that EV
- It was just strange cos everyone else EV
- has just been like “cool, she’s from the UK” CA
- or maybe they might ask me in a more polite way CA
- “Oh where are your family from?” EV
- or something like that, and I’d say “Nigeria”. RES
In this last segment of story turn-taking between Dúpẹ́ and Kúnmi, Dúpẹ́ recounts an experience volunteering in Lesotho where she stayed with a local host family. She narrates an interaction between herself and a guest who refuses, again, to accept her asserted identity on the grounds of race. The constructed dialogue, particularly in lines 137-138 recounts speech in ways that attempt to be accurate. The back and forth interaction in the story mirrors an interrogation as the House Guest character seeks to extract the desired answer out of Dúpẹ́. When she repeatedly fails to provide it, he is reported as acting with outright contestation. Her voicing of the House Guest (lines 137-138) overtly states the implication of race for national identity: ‘All Black people are African.’ Again, in response Dúpẹ́ rescinds her initial assertion of Britishness, re-evaluates her position and capitulates with a simple “Oh” (line 139). By contrasting the House Guest’s blunt line of questioning with more subtle inquiries into her identity, Dúpẹ́ is actually underscoring the aggressive nature of the question “where are you from” because ultimately in both cases she acquiesces with “Nigerian.”
This story, although narrated after, likely came chronologically before her time in Japan. In line 146 she mentions not feeling very Nigerian at that point, hence the reluctance to identify as such. Her evaluation of the events is told not as constructed dialogue, but in the present storytelling world in which she positions her present day self as distant from her former self. In the past she had been fraught with shame when forced to grapple with her own Nigerian identity, now she has stopped hiding, overcome shame, and takes pride in calling herself Nigerian.
Excerpt 5 – Not even “I’m from South London”
- Péjú: Our kids will be more and more British,
- and we just thought that “no”
- I think it really hit me when AB
- erm one of his nephews said “I’m English” CA
- and we were like, “What?!” CA
- Not even “I’m from South London” or things like that. EV
- It was like “What?” CA
- I’ve just never seen a person EV
- that associated themselves with “Oh I’m English”. EV
- Like, I do see myself as Black-British
- but I mainly see myself as Nigerian first
- even though I wasn’t born there.
- So I’ll always say I’m Nigerian,
- then Black-British-Nigerian.
- But Nigerian mainly,
- so it’s just really weird him saying that. EV/RES
- So that can’t be our children ((laughs)). CO
In this excerpt, Péjú, the then fiancée of Tobi (below) retells a shocking incident of her future husband’s nephew referring to himself as English. Péjú positions herself as someone who is confident in their Nigerian identity and feels well connected to her heritage. She nevertheless exhibits a degree of flexibility in how she can identify herself. She can be Black, British, Nigerian, a Londoner, or any combination thereof. Péjú’s mention of “South London” (line 6) is a reference to the historically and predominantly Black neighourhoods. With this hypothetical constructed dialogue, she is indexing a pride that Black Londoners exhibit in representing the areas in which they were raised.
This stands in stark contrast to what she reported her future nephew as saying. She positions him as unusual, amoral even; something she has “never seen” (line 8-9). Péjú is shocked (“What?” Lines 5 and 7) at the idea that the next generation and potentially her own children will choose not to identify in a way that is familiar to her but to essentially identify as White. She is determined to prevent this from happening (line 2 and 17) . Péjú storylines herself as the moral guardian of her family’s future Yorùbá heritage in the UK. Péjú’s stance – that it is irreconcilable for Black people to be English – mirrors Dúpẹ́ and Kúnmi’s discussion of the same idea (lines 87-92, Appendix A) in which they express discomfort at calling themselves English. This narrative again reflects broader societal discourse about race and national identity, and Englishness as signifying Whiteness.
Excerpt 6 – “It depends who’s asking”
- Kúnmi: Would you identify yourself as English?
- Tobi: It depends on the setting. It depends who’s asking.
- K: When would you be English and when would you not be English?
- T: I mean, hey, If a police officer is asking me a few questions, OR-1
- “Hey, I’m English”. CA-1
- If I’m in America and I’m trying to get through control, OR-2
- “I’m English”. CA-2
- You know the places to say you’re English.
- If I’m in Nigeria and someone’s trying to give me trouble, OR-3
- then yeah I’m English. CA-3
- Certain times in Nigerian you’re English.
- Certain places you’re like OR-4
- “Ah! O mọ mi now, kí ló ń ṣẹlẹ̀?” CA-4 [“Hey, you know who I am, what’s the problem?”]
- So you have to know how to just survive. CO
While much of the small stories exchanged between Dúpẹ́ and Kúnmi exhibit a reluctance to and difficulty in negotiating their identity in different spaces, Tobi openly acknowledges and accepts that identity is locally constructed. In this excerpt, he provides four hypothetical scenarios for identity negotiation without much emotionality. Tobi does not appear to view identity as something essential to himself. For him, identities are positions that he can hold in order to achieve a purpose. Unlike Dúpẹ́, Kúnmi, and Péjú, Tobi is willing to adopt a specifically English identity. Tobi positions himself as rational and pragmatic with a strategic approach to identity negotiation. He is whoever he needs to be in a given context, moving seamlessly between the identities that he can legitimately occupy.
Although his tone is breezy and matter of fact, projecting an idea that identity negotiation is not something difficult to navigate, the hypothetical scenarios and the ‘coda’ of line 14 betray a heavier and gendered undertone to his narrative. The situations he describes are characterised by conflict, so in that way are similar to Dúpẹ́ and Kunmi’s narratives. However, the antagonists in his storylines: a questioning police officer (line 4), an immigration officer (line 6), someone giving him trouble (line 9) and certain problematic places in Nigeria (line 12) wield significantly more power than in the previous excerpts.
There is a contrast in Tobi’s positioning in relation to power between the first two scenarios set in the UK and USA, and the last two scenarios, set in Nigeria, that warrants attention. By situating himself opposite a police officer and immigration officer, both figures that wield powers that can significantly impact Tobi’s immediate circumstances, he positions himself as vulnerable and acutely aware of his lack of power. In adopting an English identity the implication is that Tobi can leverage some of the privileges that it affords to avoid conflict in these high stakes interactions. Although he does not employ a ‘Prince Charles’ like reference, the privileges that Tobi can leverage are afforded by an implied proximity to Whiteness, education, civility, and higher social status. This is evident in his choice of English as opposed to British. In their excerpts, Dúpẹ́, Kúnmi, and Péjú reference that people of colour can be ‘British’ but calling oneself ‘English’ would be controversial. While British is seen as more inclusive, English retains a narrow image akin to Prince Charles. Tobi’s visible identity as a Black man will undoubtedly influence the officers’ perceptions and possibly actions, leaving him in a position where he must carefully negotiate his identity to mitigate any potential discrimination, avoid conflict, and safeguard his well-being. Tobi’s narrative speaks to wider discourses around where, how, and by whom Black male bodies are policed in Western countries. It underscores the precariousness of Black lives in situations where authority figures hold significant power. This interview pre-dates the killing of George Floyd by almost one year, yet Tobi implicitly acknowledges the ever present threat to his survival and the need for vigilance when he says “you know the places to say you’re English” (line 8). For Tobi and other young Black men, the idea of “survival” is sometimes about avoiding death.
In the last two scenarios, the oscillation between English and Nigerian identities, and English and Yorùbá languages, reflects complex power dynamics and social structures that exist in Nigeria. The imperial project that installed English as the language of power and prestige means that an English identity would afford Tobi access to privileges ascribed only to the Country’s elite. Speaking Yorùbá, however, would afford Tobi different privileges to navigate different power structures when establishing rapport with the local people is the way to extricate himself from a problematic situation. His use of Yorùbá here signals his authenticity at being able to position himself as an insider of Yorùbá culture when necessary. The implied meaning of the utterance “O mọ mi” (You know me) – or better expressed in English as the sentiment “Don’t you know who I am?” – positions Tobi as an empowered and assertive man, willing and able to leverage cultural competence in order to command respect and act with authority. Rather than avoiding conflict in Nigeria, as he would in the UK or the USA, he positions himself as someone able to assert dominance to quell it.
Conclusions
The analysis of positioning in the narratives provided by Dúpẹ́, Kúnmi, Péjú, and Tobi reveals the multifaceted nature of identity construction and negotiation in various places. These narratives, told by people who live transnational and transcultural lives, highlighted the context-dependent nature of identity, and the interplay between race and place, national identity and heritage. Their stories point to certain shared understandings of Englishness (equated with Whiteness), Britishness (signifying inclusivity), Nigerianess (representing heritage), and Blackness (racial identity) that engender personal struggles for belonging (Dúpẹ́), recognition (Kúnmi), survival (Tobi) and legacy (Péjú). The narrators underscored the necessity for situational adaptability in identity negotiation.
When evaluating the function of the small stories it is important not only to examine the context of the interaction (an interview) but also the identity of the interviewer and the presuppositions that the interlocutors share. The small stories from which these themes emerged were not told to convey new information to an uninformed audience. Even in excerpt 6, as Kúnmi probes Tobi on his identification as English, he confronts her feigned ignorance in line 8 with “you know the places…”. Instead, the narratives are told to validate the teller’s lived experiences, create solidarity between the interlocutors, and affirm identity choices. Each narrator’s story is an attempt to convey radically honest versions of themselves to someone who they feel understands and can empathize with the identity troubles of Yorùbá British youth, in the context of a 2019 anti-Black world.
References
Cho, G. (2000). The role of heritage language in social interactions and relationships: Reflections from a language minority group. Bilingual Research Journal, 24(4), 369-384.
Adekunmi Olatunji 