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Increasingly, speakers of minoritized languages around the world are becoming uprooted due to economic pressures, political forces, and environmental destabilization. As communities leave their traditional homelands, they often experience accelerated language shift. Although youth are in a critical position to further transmit their languages to future generations, the roles of youth are often overlooked in language documentation and revitalization. This often has to do with ideologies that privilege monolingual practices and view the linguistic differences of heritage language speakers as incomplete or incorrect. Such ideologies circulate not only among language users, but among language researchers as well. Community-based language work that centers multilingual youth can support outcomes aligned with community goals of language maintenance. This dissertation brings together tools and perspectives from language documentation, sociocultural linguistics, applied linguistics, heritage language research, language ecology, and translanguaging approaches to multilingualism in an effort to support the language maintenance goals of diasporic Ñuu Savi (Mixtec) community partners within a community-centered framework of collaborative language work. The approach, which I term diaspora linguistics, centers multilingual youth in order to holistically understand language structure, variation, ideology, and sociolinguistic context, and to produce applied research outcomes, in Indigenous diaspora settings. The context for this dissertation is a longstanding linguistic research collaboration between members of the UCSB Department of Linguistics and affiliates of a community non-profit organization that serves the Indigenous Mesoamerican immigrant community in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties in California’s Central Coast region. In particular, this dissertation focuses on nine individuals from an extended family, all of whom speak a Tu’un Savi (Mixtec language) variety from the municipality of San Martín Peras in Oaxaca, Mexico, which is the plurality variety on the Central Coast.I use multiple methods, including an interview-based survey, a questionnaire, and two narrative elicitation tasks, to gain insight into speakers’ linguistic practices and language attitudes. First, drawing from a recent large community language survey, I provide demographic information about the broader community and the local language situation. Responses from the survey shed light on community members’ ethnolinguistic identities and highlight the importance of language maintenance to a majority of respondents. The surveys reveal several ideologies about multilingualism: an assumption that young people do not speak Tu’un Savi; or, if they do, that they speak differently or deficiently due to an ideology that prioritizes monolingual-like linguistic performance. Then, using responses to a family language questionnaire, I connect ideologies about multilingualism and speakerhood to individual family members’ linguistic experiences and migration histories. The analysis shows that participants who experienced monolingual language development have a coordinate bilingual profile and are less likely to acknowledge the Tu’un Savi proficiencies of younger people, while those who experienced bilingual language development at an early age have a compound bilingual profile and are more likely to recognize Tu’un Savi as a language of young multilinguals. Against this ideological backdrop, I analyze variation in loanword usage across generations of the same family using semi-structured narrative elicitation tasks. The results show that loanword usage is a shared but largely idiosyncratic practice that is inversely correlated with age. The example of a jar in the elicitation materials highlights the range of reference strategies used by participants. Youth may hesitate or avoid using a loanword when a native word is not known; young adults creatively apply a range of native lexical items to the referent, and adults unproblematically use loanwords, even in contexts of verbal art characterized by stylistic repetition. The dissertation closes with the description of a hypothetical lesson plan for multilingual youth that draws from the data and analyses of preceding chapters to support the linguistic practices and ethnolinguistic identities of multilingual youth. As a whole, the dissertation aims to address the varied and multiple empirical and applied issues intertwined in language work in Indigenous diaspora contexts, while facilitating the centering of collaborator and community goals in the research agenda rather than the goals of the academic researcher

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UC Santa BarbaraUC Santa Barbara Electronic Theses and DissertationsTitleDiaspora Linguistics: Mixtec as a Heritage Language among Nà Sàjvǐ Multilinguals in CaliforniaPermalinkhttps://escholarship.org/uc/item/9ws9692nAuthorPeters, Simon LPublication Date2024 Peer reviewed|Thesis/dissertationeScholarship.org Powered by the California Digital LibraryUniversity of CaliforniaUNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara   Diaspora Linguistics:  Mixtec as a Heritage Language among Nà Sàjvǐ Multilinguals in California   A dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree Doctor of Philosophy in Linguistics  by  Simon L. Peters  Committee in charge: Professor Eric W. Campbell, Chair Professor Mary Bucholtz Professor Lynn Hou Professor Jin Sook Lee Professor Emiliana Cruz Cruz, CIESAS  June 2024 The dissertation of Simon L. Peters is approved.    ____________________________________________    Mary Bucholtz    ____________________________________________    Lynn Hou    ____________________________________________    Jin Sook Lee    ____________________________________________    Emiliana Cruz Cruz    ____________________________________________   Eric W. Campbell, Committee Chair   June 2024      iii                 Diaspora Linguistics:  Mixtec as a Heritage Language among Nà Sàjvǐ Multilinguals in California  Copyright © 2024 by Simon L. Peters    iv ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS  My sincere thanks and gratitude go to my committee members: Eric W. Campbell, Mary Bucholtz, Lina Hou, Jin Sook Lee, and Emiliana Cruz. Thank you, Eric, for taking me on and showing me the ropes. It has been a rewarding experience to learn from you and collaborate with you over these years. I am grateful for your example of conducting humanizing research with humility and building relationships, for your lessons in incisive grammatical analysis, for your tireless work in providing feedback on all manner of writing and applications, and for your advocacy on behalf of students. Thank you, Mary, for demystifying how it all works, for creating a supportive community centered around the success and wellbeing of graduate students, for sharing your writing expertise, and always helping me to stay motivated and keep going. Thank you for all the work you do to support students, and to make research collaborative, social, and sustaining. Thank you, Lina, for always seeing the big picture and sharing concise feedback that has helped to guide me in the right direction, for being a consistent source of encouragement, for fostering social connection and camaraderie in the department, and, of course, for letting me hang out with Coconut. Thank you, Jin Sook, for all you have taught me about conducting research on multilingualism and for your guidance in research design and theory. Your course in the first remote quarter of the pandemic greatly influenced my thinking about this project and helped me to carry on with my work in those uncertain times. Thank you, Emiliana, for your enthusiasm, encouragement, and insightful feedback. I am deeply appreciative of the joy and positivity you bring to research and academic spaces, and for the welcoming atmosphere   v that you invite junior scholars into, which I had the privilege of experiencing when we first met at SSLA in Amherst in 2018. Thank you! Thank you to the participants and consultants in this research for opening yourselves to this process and sharing your personal experiences, your language, and your insights. Thank you for your consultation, for your work in data collection, and for allowing your linguistic data to appear here. Taxà’vi-ntó Itâ Tsìndoo, Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ, Kaneki, Ntsìvá’yi, Ntsi’ì, Tsìkiva, Tsǐnâ Yaa, Tùtsiayì xí’in Yìvì Tsióó. My deep thanks and appreciation go also to the research assistants who helped with data processing, transcription, and translation, who pointed out interesting phenomena and examples in the texts, and without whom this would have been an insurmountable task: Inî G. Mendoza, Esmeralda Mendoza, Adriana Diaz, Xenia Escalante-Lopez, Estefania Zaragoza, and Elena Magarin. Thank you to Amy Kyratzis for the support, encouragement, references, and feedback in Ed 202A on early work that became the basis for Chapter 2. Thank you to the participants and MILPA team members who worked on the community language survey drawn from in parts of this dissertation: Anna Bax, Mary Bucholtz, Eric W. Campbell, Alexia Fawcett, Inî Mendoza, and Griselda Reyes Basurto; the undergraduate research assistants who identified, coded, transcribed, and translated interview quotes Teresa Cevallos, Veronica Cruz, Bethany Guerrero, and Katie Lydon; participating SKILLS students; and the many undergraduate research assistants and interns who are too numerous to name here but were instrumental in the processing and coding of survey data. Above all, thank you to my long-term collaborator and friend, Inî, who has taught me so much and has made any of this research possible. I am thankful that we have been on this   vi academic journey together, through the successes as well as the struggles. Thank you for always sharing your friendship, brilliance, and humor. Thank you to the great folks at the Mixteco/Indígena Community Organizing Project (MICOP) who have shared their languages and knowledge with me, welcomed me into research collaborations, supported me in my academic journey, and consistently brought to the forefront both the joy and critical importance of linguistic work. Research collaborators and workshop participants, some of whom allowed me to refer to their data at certain points in this dissertation: Inî G. Mendoza, Griselda Reyes Basurto, Carmen Hernández Martínez, Juvenal Solano, Yesica Ramirez, and Javier Martínez. MICOP staff and leadership: Arcenio López, Vanessa Terán, Genevieve Flores-Haro, Irene Gomez, Norma Gomez, Donna Foster, and many others. The SKILLS students and Tequio Youth Coordinators Sonya Zapién and Eli Villa. Thank you to my friends who made it feel more like home here over these long years: Alexia Fawcett, Adrienne Tsikewa, Albert Ventayol-Boada, Anna Bax, Audrey Lopez, Chris Brendel, Inî Mendoza, Jorge Rosés Labrada, Joy Yoo, Kayla Palakurthy, Kendra Calhoun, Martin Kohlberger, Sandra Auderset, Tanya Wang, Thomas Franke, and Yi-Yang Cheng. My hiking friends Jason Budge and Melanie Adams. Thank you to the additional departmental and South Hall community members from over the years who make this place work and have made it a nice place to be: Mala Poe, Argyro Katsika, Lal Zimman, Sandy Thompson, Pat Clancy, Matt Gordon, Alicia Holm, Cheryl Saum, René Marchington, Kelly Almeida, Sam Little, and many more. Thank you to all the wonderful people in MILPA and in the MUMBLE and Lyric labs for community and supportive feedback.    vii I would like to acknowledge my early mentors: Melissa Reams; Portland State faculty Tucker Childs, Hilary Jenks, Lynn Santelmann, and Stephen Wadley; Billings’ best, Mrs. Swoboda and Frau Campbell and the many other remarkable teachers who looked out for me. I am grateful to the people in Portland who helped me find my way here: Kelley Cruz, Margarita Gonzalez, Tahja Whiteley, Eric Bernando, and Linda Godson. Thank you also to my CELP co-chairs Carmen Dagostino and Racquel-María Sapién. Lastly, but most importantly, I thank my family, all my siblings and nephews, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and great aunts and uncles who have in some way nurtured me over the course of my life. I especially thank my parents who made it all possible for me every single day, and my grandparents who laid the foundation. With love and admiration, I acknowledge my sister Angi, who has always inspired me. I appreciate my friends who have been by my side the longest, and whom I can always return home to: Clarissa Cerovski and Sofia Ellis-Curry. Traversing graduate school and producing a dissertation has taken the support of a village. I couldn’t have done it without the help and friendship that all the aforementioned people gave me along the way. With that being said, any errors shortcomings in this work are my own. Any good shape it is in is thanks to these people. I acknowledge the NSF, the UCSB Graduate Division, and the UCSB Chicano Studies Institute for supporting various aspects of this work. The views expressed herein are my own.    viii VITA OF SIMON L. PETERS June 2024  EDUCATION  2024   Ph.D. in Linguistics, University of California, Santa Barbara    Interdisciplinary Ph.D. Emphasis in Applied Linguistics    Certificate in College and University Teaching 2018   M.A. in Linguistics, University of California, Santa Barbara 2014   B.A. in Applied Linguistics (summa cum laude), Portland State University Double major with Chinese Language & Literature  PUBLICATIONS  In Press Bax, Anna, Mary Bucholtz, Eric W. Campbell, Alexia Z. Fawcett, Inî G. Mendoza, Simon L. Peters, and Griselda Reyes Basurto. MILPA: A community-centered linguistic collaboration supporting diasporic Mexican Indigenous languages in California. Language Documentation & Conservation. 2024 Salazar, Jeremías, Griselda Reyes Basurto, Guillem Belmar, Simon L. Peters, and Eric W. Campbell. Justicia lingüística y procesos de documentación: Traducciones para informar a la comunidad Ñuu Savi sobre el COVID-19. Living Languages 3(1): 263–288.  2023 Bucholtz, Mary, Eric W. Campbell, Teresa Cevallos, Veronica Cruz, Alexia Z. Fawcett, Bethany Guerrero, Katie Lydon, Inî G. Mendoza, Simon L. Peters, Griselda Reyes Basurto. Researcher positionality in linguistics: Lessons from undergraduate experiences in community-centered collaborative research. Language and Linguistics Compass: e12495.  2018 Peters, Simon L. Inventario y distribución tonal en el mixteco de San Martín Peras. Memorias del VIII Congreso de Idiomas Indígenas de Latinoamérica, 26-28 de octubre de 2017, Universidad de Texas en Austin.  HONORS AND AWARDS   External  2021 Humanities Without Walls Pre-Doctoral Career Diversity Summer Workshop, The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation 2018 Non-Academic Research Internship for Graduate Students, National Science Foundation 2016-2021  Graduate Research Fellowship, National Science Foundation 2015, 2012 Critical Languages Scholarship Program, U.S. Department of State  Internal, University of California, Santa Barbara  2023   Graduate Division Dissertation Fellowship   ix 2021   Chicano Studies Institute Dissertation Research Grant 2021   Graduate Humanities Research Fellowship 2021   Humanities & Social Sciences Research Grant 2021 Honorable Mention, Dorothy Chun and Joseph Polchinski Applied Linguistics Fellowship  TEACHING APPOINTMENTS  Instructor of Record, Department of Linguistics, University of California, Santa Barbara Winter 2023       Introduction to Phonology Summer 2022       Language, Gender & Sexuality  Instructor of Record and Co-Instructor, SKILLS Program, Department of Linguistics, University of California, Santa Barbara Spring Semester 2018, 2019    With California Lutheran University Spring Semester 2017     With Santa Barbara City College  Teaching Assistant, Department of Linguistics, University of California, Santa Barbara Spring 2024       Language in Life Winter 2024, Fall 2022, Fall 2020 Introduction to Language & Linguistics Fall 2023, Fall 2017     Language & Power Spring 2023       Sign Languages & Signing Communities Spring 2021       Introduction to Morphology Winter 2021       Introduction to Syntax Winter 2020       Introduction to Phonology Fall 2019 (Head TA)     Language, Power & Learning* Summer 2018, Summer 2017   Language in Society Fall 2016, Summer 2016    Language, Gender & Sexuality           *cross-listed Chicana/o Studies  Reader, Department of Linguistics, University of California, Santa Barbara Fall 2020        Second Language Acquisition Spring 2016       English Grammar for Teachers   x ABSTRACT  Diaspora Linguistics:  Mixtec as a Heritage Language among Nà Sàjvǐ Multilinguals in California  by  Simon L. Peters  Increasingly, speakers of minoritized languages around the world are becoming uprooted due to economic pressures, political forces, and environmental destabilization. As communities leave their traditional homelands, they often experience accelerated language shift. Although youth are in a critical position to further transmit their languages to future generations, the roles of youth are often overlooked in language documentation and revitalization. This often has to do with ideologies that privilege monolingual practices and view the linguistic differences of heritage language speakers as incomplete or incorrect. Such ideologies circulate not only among language users, but among language researchers as well. Community-based language work that centers multilingual youth can support outcomes aligned with community goals of language maintenance. This dissertation brings together tools and perspectives from language documentation, sociocultural linguistics, applied linguistics, heritage language research, language ecology, and translanguaging approaches to multilingualism in an effort to support the language maintenance goals of diasporic Ñuu Savi (Mixtec) community partners within a community-centered framework   xi of collaborative language work. The approach, which I term diaspora linguistics, centers multilingual youth in order to holistically understand language structure, variation, ideology, and sociolinguistic context, and to produce applied research outcomes, in Indigenous diaspora settings. The context for this dissertation is a longstanding linguistic research collaboration between members of the UCSB Department of Linguistics and affiliates of a community non-profit organization that serves the Indigenous Mesoamerican immigrant community in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties in California’s Central Coast region. In particular, this dissertation focuses on nine individuals from an extended family, all of whom speak a Tu’un Savi (Mixtec language) variety from the municipality of San Martín Peras in Oaxaca, Mexico, which is the plurality variety on the Central Coast. I use multiple methods, including an interview-based survey, a questionnaire, and two narrative elicitation tasks, to gain insight into speakers’ linguistic practices and language attitudes. First, drawing from a recent large community language survey, I provide demographic information about the broader community and the local language situation. Responses from the survey shed light on community members’ ethnolinguistic identities and highlight the importance of language maintenance to a majority of respondents. The surveys reveal several ideologies about multilingualism: an assumption that young people do not speak Tu’un Savi; or, if they do, that they speak differently or deficiently due to an ideology that prioritizes monolingual-like linguistic performance. Then, using responses to a family language questionnaire, I connect ideologies about multilingualism and speakerhood to individual family members’ linguistic experiences and migration histories. The analysis shows that participants who experienced monolingual language development have a coordinate bilingual profile and are less likely to acknowledge the Tu’un Savi proficiencies   xii of younger people, while those who experienced bilingual language development at an early age have a compound bilingual profile and are more likely to recognize Tu’un Savi as a language of young multilinguals. Against this ideological backdrop, I analyze variation in loanword usage across generations of the same family using semi-structured narrative elicitation tasks. The results show that loanword usage is a shared but largely idiosyncratic practice that is inversely correlated with age. The example of a jar in the elicitation materials highlights the range of reference strategies used by participants. Youth may hesitate or avoid using a loanword when a native word is not known; young adults creatively apply a range of native lexical items to the referent, and adults unproblematically use loanwords, even in contexts of verbal art characterized by stylistic repetition. The dissertation closes with the description of a hypothetical lesson plan for multilingual youth that draws from the data and analyses of preceding chapters to support the linguistic practices and ethnolinguistic identities of multilingual youth. As a whole, the dissertation aims to address the varied and multiple empirical and applied issues intertwined in language work in Indigenous diaspora contexts, while facilitating the centering of collaborator and community goals in the research agenda rather than the goals of the academic researcher.      xiii TABLE OF CONTENTS  CHAPTER 1. TOWARD A DIASPORA LINGUISTICS: COMMUNITY-CENTERED COLLABORATIVE LANGUAGE MAINTENANCE WORK IN INDIGENOUS DIASPORA SETTINGS ............................................................................................. 1 1.1 Diaspora Linguistics ............................................................................ 4 1.2 Heritage Language Research and Indigenous Language Maintenance 7 1.3 Translanguaging and Language Ecology ........................................... 10 1.4 Indigenous Diaspora .......................................................................... 13 1.5 Conclusion ......................................................................................... 17 CHAPTER 2. ÑUU SAVI COMMUNITIES AND TU'UN SAVI LANGUAGES .. 20 2.1 Ñuu Savi 'El Pueblo Mixteco' ............................................................ 21 2.2 The Tu'un Savi Languages ................................................................ 24 2.2.1 Tu'un Savi Genealogy, Subgrouping, and Structure ................. 26 2.2.2 The Tù'un Sàjvǐ Variety/Varieties of San Martín Peras Municipality28 2.3 Ñuu Savi Migration and Diaspora ..................................................... 31 2.4 MICOP and MILPA .......................................................................... 33 2.5 The Community Language Survey .................................................... 36 2.5.1 Survey Development and Administration ................................ 36 2.5.2 Survey Results .......................................................................... 39 2.6 Researcher Role and Positionality ..................................................... 46 2.7 Conclusion ......................................................................................... 52    xiv CHAPTER 3. LANGUAGE IDEOLOGIES OF MULTILINGUALISM IN A DIASPORIC NÀ SÀJVǏ EXTENDED FAMILY ........................................................................... 53 3.1 Previous Research on Multilingualism .............................................. 54 3.1.1 Types of Bilingualism ............................................................... 54 3.1.2 Translanguaging and Heritage Speakers .................................. 56 3.2 Ideologies of Multilingualism in the Ñuu Savi Diaspora .................. 61 3.3 Methods ............................................................................................. 69 3.4 A Multilingual Nà Sàjvǐ Family Network in California .................... 72 3.4.1 Ntsìvá'yi .................................................................................... 73 3.4.2 Itâ Tsìndoo ................................................................................ 74 3.4.3 Yìvì Tsióó ................................................................................. 75 3.4.4 Tùtsiayì ..................................................................................... 76 3.4.5 Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ ......................................................................... 77 3.4.6 Tsìkiva ...................................................................................... 78 3.4.7 Ntsi'ì .......................................................................................... 79 3.4.8 Kaneki ....................................................................................... 80 3.4.9 Tsǐnâ Yaa .................................................................................. 82 3.5 Discussion .......................................................................................... 83 3.6 Future Research ................................................................................. 88 3.7 Conclusion ......................................................................................... 89 CHAPTER 4. LOANWORD USAGE AND AVOIDANCE IN TÙ'UN SÀJVǏ ACROSS GENERATIONS ....................................................................................................... 90 4.1 Language Contact and Loanword Incorporation ............................... 91   xv 4.1.1 Language Contact and Loanwords in Mesoamerica ................. 94 4.1.2 Loanwords and Language Shift .............................................. 102 4.2 Methodology .................................................................................... 104 4.2.1 Narrative Elicitation Tools in Diaspora Linguistics ............... 104 4.2.2 Methods of Data Collection .................................................... 108 4.2.3 Methods of Data Analysis ...................................................... 111 4.3 Loanword Usage across Generations ............................................... 112 4.4 Strategies of Reference .................................................................... 117 4.4.1 Reference Strategies of the Adult Generation ........................ 119 4.4.2 Reference Strategies of the Teenager Generation .................. 120 4.4.3 Summary ................................................................................. 123 4.5 Stylistic Repetition ........................................................................... 124 4.6 Discussion ........................................................................................ 127 4.7 Conclusion ....................................................................................... 128 CHAPTER 5. CONCLUSION: USING DIASPORA LINGUISTICS TO SUPPORT THE LINGUISTIC SELF-DETERMINATION OF YOUTH IN THE ÑUU SAVI DIASPORA ................................................................................................................................. 131 5.1 Main Findings .................................................................................. 131 5.1.1 Survey Findings ...................................................................... 132 5.1.2 Ideologies of Multilingualism ................................................. 134 5.1.3 Loanwords .............................................................................. 136 5.2 Applying Research: A Lesson Plan for Multilingual Youth ........... 137   xvi 5.2.1 School Kids Investigating Language in Life and Society (SKILLS) ......................................................................................................... 139 5.2.2 Lesson Plan Components ........................................................ 141 5.3 Conclusion ....................................................................................... 151 REFERENCES ........................................................................................................ 155 APPENDIX. COMMUNITY LANGUAGE SURVEY PROTOCOL (ENGLISH VERSION) ................................................................................................................................. 176       xvii LIST OF FIGURES  Figure 2.1. La Mixteca region of Mexico .................................................................. 22 Figure 2.2. Map of the state of Oaxaca ...................................................................... 23 Figure 2.3. Map of the district of Juxtlahuaca ........................................................... 23 Figure 2.4. Otomanguean language family ................................................................ 27 Figure 3. Kinship relations of participants ................................................................ 73 Figure 4. Storyboards from the frog story depicting the glass container ................. 118 Figure 5.1. Lesson plan warm-up discussion prompts about language mixing ....... 143 Figure 5.2. Lesson plan examples of loanwords in English .................................... 144 Figure 5.3. Lesson plan examples of loanwords in Spanish and Spanglish ............ 144 Figure 5.4. Lesson plan examples of loanwords from Indigenous languages ......... 145 Figure 5.5. Lesson plan analytic discussion questions about lexical borrowing ..... 146 Figure 5.6. Lesson plan brainstorming questions for the frog story referent .......... 146 Figure 5.7. Lesson plan analytic questions about multilingual practices and ideologies 147 Figure 5.8. Instructor points to highlight about linguistic knowledge in reference strategies ......................................................................................................................... 148 Figure 5.9. Lesson plan reflection questions about variation in loanword use ........ 148 Figure 5.10. Lesson plan discussion questions about stylistic repetition ................ 149 Figure 5.11. Lesson plan discussion questions about loanword usage in verbal art 149 Figure 5.12. Lesson plan discussion questions about loanwords and historical language contact .............................................................................................................. 150 Figure 5.13. Example final reflection prompts for closing the lesson plan ............. 151   xviii LIST OF TABLES  Table 2.1. Lexical pairs from Namà and Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá in San Martín Peras ............. 30 Table 2.2. Inventory of community surveys, by interview language ........................ 40 Table 2.3. Highest frequency Tu’un Savi varieties spoken by survey respondents .. 41 Table 2.4. Languages that survey respondents report speaking ................................ 41 Table 2.5. Languages spoken in survey respondents’ households ............................ 43 Table 2.6. Responses to the question “How important is it to you personally to speak Tu’un Savi?” ................................................................................................................. 44 Table 2.7. Responses to the question “How important is it to you personally for your children to speak Tu’un Savi?” .......................................................................... 44 Table 4.1. Length of narrative recordings, by participant and task ......................... 111 Table 4.2. Loanwords used only by members of the adult generation .................... 114 Table 4.3. Loanwords used by members of all generations .................................... 114 Table 4.4. Loanwords used by members of both child generations ........................ 115 Table 4.5. Loanwords used only by members of the young adult generation of children ......................................................................................................................... 115 Table 4.6. Loanwords used only by the teenager generation of children ................ 116 Table 4.7. Summary of strategies for referring to the glass container in the frog story task ......................................................................................................................... 123    xix ABBREVIATIONS  3   third person ANML  animal  CL   classifier COMPL  completive DEM  demonstrative DM   discourse marker EXCL  exclusive EXIST  existential FOC  focus INAN  inanimate   LOC  locative M   masculine NEG  negative PFV  perfective PL   plural POSS  possessive TAG  tag question TR   transitive  1 CHAPTER 1 Toward a diaspora linguistics: Community-centered collaborative language maintenance work in Indigenous diaspora settings  This chapter lays out my theoretical and methodological proposal for engaging in community-based language work with Indigenous communities in diaspora, based on my experiences and collaborations with Ñuu Savi (Mixtec) community members in California, from my position as an academic researcher in a linguistics graduate program. I argue for an approach that integrates aspects of language documentation, sociocultural linguistics, applied linguistics, heritage language research, language ecology, and translanguaging approaches to multilingualism, and which includes multilingual youth in language work. Such a holistic and interdisciplinary approach helps, I maintain, to address the varied and multiple empirical and applied issues intertwined in language work in Indigenous diaspora contexts, while facilitating the centering of collaborator and community goals in the research agenda rather than the goals of the academic researcher (e.g., Auderset et al. 2021).  This project is urgent given the need to address the specific conditions of language use in diaspora. Contemporary large-scale human migration is driven by devastatingly commonplace pressures. In the current global context, political, economic, and climate crises uproot communities around the world who migrate in search of safety from physical violence, poverty, famine, and climate crisis-induced “natural” disasters. Although this dissertation specifically addresses one diaspora community in a U.S. transnational context, the U.S. is not the only destination for refugees, asylum seekers, and im/migrants. Current mass migrations are a global phenomenon and are projected to increase as the environmental,   2 social, and political impacts of climate change reveal themselves with increasing intensity over the coming decades, further destabilizing governments and food systems (e.g., McAuliffe & Khadria 2019). While language contact and change are well-studied in linguistics, their outcomes and the social contexts that beget them in diaspora contexts remain understudied. This gap involves not only the present and projected ubiquity of multilingual diaspora contexts, but also the types of languages that this research has tended to address. This dissertation investigates the relationship between social context, ideology, and language practice across generations of an extended family in a multilingual Indigenous diaspora. Within this multilingual community, several Indigenous Mesoamerican languages are spoken, including numerous varieties of Tu’un Savi (Mixtec language), as well as English and Spanish. The Native language spoken by the extended family at the center of this dissertation is the Tu’un Savi variety associated with the municipality of San Martín Peras in Oaxaca, Mexico, which I refer to by the endonym Tù’un Sàjvǐ (Chapter 2). Of central importance to this project is the community goal of language maintenance. To address this issue, I combine theoretical and methodological tools from multiple subfields of linguistics (e.g., McIvor 2020) to examine the ways in which ideologies about multilingualism and speakerhood as well as translanguaging practices or avoidance vary across different generations of the family that is the focus of this research. The aims of this work are to demonstrate how the Tu’un Savi spoken by multilingual youth differs from more monolingual varieties (Flores Farfán 2013) in the diaspora; to draw connections between this variation and community language ideologies as well as individual sociolinguistic factors such as age and migration experience; and to highlight how the multilingual capacities of   3 youth in particular can support community language programming initiatives and multilingual development.  As I discuss in Chapter 2, the previous Tu’un Savi language work I have been involved in with community collaborators can be categorized under the umbrella of language documentation and description. While a deep understanding of linguistic structure is a helpful foundation for applications such as orthography development and pedagogy, documentation is not in and of itself revitalization (Grenoble 2011; Fitzgerald 2017; Leonard 2018). The mere existence of a documentary record is not sufficient for revitalization; rather, documentary linguistic knowledge must be applied to revitalization efforts. Documentary research must therefore be conducted in conjunction with the perspectives, frameworks, insights, questions, and analyses of other subfields that offer avenues for application of research to language reclamation. This approach broadens the research program and makes the data and findings more readily applicable to language work. Fortunately, research methods and perspectives have expanded from a focus solely on grammatical analysis and have moved away from the assumption that such research is primary while language maintenance work is secondary. The recent sustained critique of colonizing practices in the discipline of Linguistics and especially the subfield of language documentation (Leonard 2017) has made it imperative to examine the ideologies, research agendas, and research relationships that drive the field. Engaging in language work that is not simply ethical but also decolonial requires interdisciplinary perspectives in order to support community-centered culturally sustaining language work.   In what follows in this chapter, I propose a new framework, diaspora linguistics, for supporting the language maintenance efforts of Indigenous diasporic communities, and   4 especially youth. I then discuss the subfields and bodies of work that the present project draws from. Throughout, I highlight the theoretical and methodological interventions that I seek to make as the field of linguistics becomes increasingly committed to community-based linguistic partnerships with Indigenous diaspora communities.  1.1 Diaspora Linguistics I use the term diaspora linguistics to collectively refer to, and epistemologically and methodologically combine, strands of research that are largely housed in different linguistic subfields and language-related disciplines. The motivation to bring these approaches together stems from the local context of the Ñuu Savi diaspora in California where my own and others’ ongoing research collaboration with community members seeks to address community language maintenance goals (e.g., McIvor 2020). The term diaspora linguistics has previously been used by Canagarajah and Silberstein (2012) in reference to the linguistic study of identity construction through multilingual performance and interaction in diaspora contexts. It has also been used by Bodomo to describe the documentation of linguistic repertoires among African immigrants in Europe (Bodomo p.c.) and in Guangzhou, China (Bodomo 2018: 69). Adachi (2021: 1) traces the academic history of the related term diaspora language and defines it broadly as a language spoken by “a group of people scattered around to different places in the world but having (or feeling that they have) a shared common ancestry.” Though not always framed in these terms, the study of diaspora languages is long standing in linguistics and includes multilingualism and diglossia in immigrant/diaspora communities, as well as language contact and change, including so-called contact languages such as World Englishes and creole languages.    5 I identify five strands of research in the area of language and diaspora, although it is not always possible to fully disentangle these strands from one another, and some of the research occupies multiple categories. The first, which bears the monikers “diaspora and language” or “migration and language,” pertains primarily to linguistic-anthropological accounts of identity formation (e.g., Rosa 2014, 2015; Márquez Reiter & Martín Rojo 2014; Canagarajah 2012; Eisenlohr 2006). The second investigates the sociolinguistics of bilingualism/multilingualism, language shift, and language vitality both in local Indigenous and in immigrant language contexts (e.g., Weinreich 1974[1953]; Fishman 1991), as well as in contexts that combine the two, as seen in Indigenous Mesoamerican language communities in California (Pérez Báez 2012, 2013, 2014; Perry 2009; Morán-Lanier 2021). The third deals with heritage language studies, encompassing structure, acquisition, development, and pedagogy (e.g., Benmamoun et al. 2013; Montrul 2008, 2016). A fourth related category is work in the field of education that focuses on immigrant students, especially those of Indigenous backgrounds (e.g., Perez & Vásquez 2024; Baquedano-López 2021; Baquedano-López & Gong 2022; Machado-Casas 2009; Machado-Casas & Flores 2011; Velasco 2010). A fifth strand, community-centered language work, has been emerging over the last decade or more. Much of this work is couched in a concern over language shift and linguistic diversity and thus is not entirely independent of the second strand. Ken Hale is credited with spurring Americanist documentary linguists and typologists to become engaged in language revitalization efforts when he issued an urgent call for linguists to dedicate themselves to addressing language endangerment (Hale et al. 1992). With the increasing ubiquity of Indigenous speech communities in diaspora in the US, efforts under the umbrella of language documentation and conservation have begun to focus on these communities.   6 Sociocultural linguists and documentary linguists have begun engaging in partnerships with diaspora communities to conduct language documentation research and community action projects to mobilize the benefits of linguistic knowledge in society. One such example is the work of the Endangered Language Alliance, based in New York City, which began doing community outreach and mapping the linguistic diversity of the city (Perlin et al. 2021). The increased attention to language work in such contexts is exemplified by the satellite symposium held at the 2019 Linguistic Society of America Summer Institute on linguistic research and language documentation with diaspora communities from the Caribbean, East Asia, Mesoamerica, the Middle East, and North and Sub-Saharan Africa who live in the US. For example, an ongoing language documentation and linguistic justice project is being carried out in Boise, Idaho with recently resettled Somali-Bantu and Afghan refugees who speak Chizigula (East Bantu) (Soelberg et al. 2016) and Dari (Western Iranian) (Delsooz & Temkin Martinez 2023), respectively. This dissertation is similarly embedded within a large, multiyear, multifaceted collaboration between academic linguists at UC Santa Barbara and community linguists, language activists, and medical interpreters affiliated with UCSB’s community partner, the non-profit Mixteco/Indígena Community Organizing Project (MICOP) based in the California Central Coast cities of Oxnard (Ventura County) and Santa Maria (Santa Barbara County).  In the traditional extractive researcher-focused perspective that still continues in some linguistic research, diaspora communities present a convenient “site” for conducting linguistic research and procuring data that would otherwise require “fieldwork.” This perspective is problematic because it positions the community as Other and relies on research paradigms that prioritize the researcher’s agenda and treats potential partners and   7 collaborators as mere data sources without concern for their own motives and goals. Moreover, there is still some pushback to conducting linguistic research with speakers outside of their homelands due to purist ideologies of authenticity within the discipline (cf. Henderson 2015), and this discourse may continue to be encountered in informal conversation about “authentic” fieldwork experiences. It is beginning to be recognized that it is disrespectful and dehumanizing to treat someone’s home, whether discursively or practically, as an excursion in “roughing it” in a remote, exotic, or dangerous place. Furthermore, the ideological positioning of self and other in traditional fieldwork-oriented approaches presents obstacles to ethical, equitable research with outcomes that are useful to the community. From a community-centered perspective (Bax et al. in press), such partnerships are an opportunity for linguistics to serve linguistically and otherwise marginalized communities, upon which the field has historically disproportionately relied for data, typically without just compensation or credit and under spurious ethical conditions. It is in this vein of community-centered language work, sharing knowledge and resources in a framework of relational accountability to support community language reclamation and maintenance efforts, that this dissertation seeks to conduct its inquiry. This is central to the approach that I call diaspora linguistics.  I turn next to approaches that inform diaspora linguistics, particularly heritage language research, translanguaging, and research on language ecologies.   1.2 Heritage language research and Indigenous language maintenance Heritage language frameworks have been used to address a range of minority language issues in immigrant contexts, including language shift (Fishman 1991), heritage language   8 acquisition (Montrul 2016), heritage language development (Montrul & Polinsky 2019), and heritage language pedagogy (Brinton et al. 2017). Due to this breadth, the field seems promising for shedding light on language shift and language maintenance in a Ñuu Savi diaspora context, particularly regarding how the multilingual children of immigrants use language and how to incorporate this information into efforts to teach the language and strengthen its vitality—that is, how to expand the domains in which Tu’un Savi is used and the ages of the people who use it. However, there are important differences between typical heritage language contexts and the Ñuu Savi diaspora context. For one, in the typical heritage language situation described by researchers, the country of origin has a robust speaker population and the language has secure status as the language of government, education, and print and digital media. Heritage languages are often languages of global commerce and politics. In the language vitality scale developed by Fishman (1991) and expanded by Lewis and Simons (2010), strong footing in these domains garners the “safest” ranking. Moreover, heritage language research has drawbacks for Indigenous language maintenance due to the emphasis on error and divergence in some of this work, which in turn stems from ideologies of linguistic purism and a monolingual standard (Silverstein 1996; Zentella 2007). Heritage speakers are often described as early bilinguals who, despite being native speakers, undergo attrition of their grammatical system, resulting in linguistic patterns that differ from those of speakers who are thought to represent a more “pure” native monolingual standard or baseline (cf. Pascual y Cabo & Rothman 2012; Bayram et al. 2019). A great preoccupation of heritage language research is the heterogeneity of the language produced by heritage speakers and explaining why their language structures differ so greatly from their input (i.e., a monolingual model). In this work, there is little acknowledgement of   9 the variation that inherently exists across even monolingual speech communities and even within the individual, phenomena which are well known thanks to spoken language corpora that show that monolingual native speakers also produce nonstandard forms and speech errors (Wiese et al. 2022).  It is not the focus on difference per se but the attribution of difference to what are cast as non-normative language acquisition and development conditions that give rise to strong currents of deficit perspectives throughout heritage language research. As I discuss in more detail in Chapter 3, the field’s normative expectations of bilingual proficiency are encapsulated by the designation “coordinate bilingual” (Valdés & Figueroa 1994; Cook 2016) in contemporary taxonomies of multilinguals. The coordinate bilingual in heritage language research can be traced back to Weinreich’s (1974[1953]) proposition that “ideal bilinguals” possess two distinct linguistic systems that they never mix. Deviations from “ideal bilingual” behavior is treated as a problem that many heritage language frameworks seek to correct or remedy. A large body of research on language mixing and code-switching practices demonstrates, however, that such practices are not only not harmful, but are normal and empirically expected (Bullock & Toribio 2009). Critiques of heritage language research reflect these concerns. Some researchers have expressed frustration with the field’s a priori categorization of individuals as either native speakers or heritage speakers. This distinction implies that one group performs linguistically in line with monolingual standards, while the other does not. The problematization of this dichotomy has resulted in more widespread recognition that heritage speakers can also be native speakers (Rothman & Treffers-Dallers 2014) and the creation of more precise and empirically based speaker types (Ortega 2020). Furthermore, Tsehaye et al. (2021)   10 problematize the traditional restricted application of the native speaker label to monolinguals because monolinguals also exhibit considerable diversity in their production patterns. The researchers propose several factors that more precisely characterize speakers in meaningful ways, and which facilitate transparent and replicable research: bilingualism, proficiency, exposure, and dominance.  1.3 Translanguaging and language ecology Heritage speakers do not silo the linguistic input from different codes, demonstrating what some heritage language research refers to as “interference” or “imperfect learning.” By contrast, a translanguaging approach to multilingualism, which has emerged from the field of education, argues that linguistic resources do not comprise distinct systems but are part of an integrated web of linguistic resources (García & Li 2015). In this perspective, the expectation from traditional heritage language research that multilingual speakers should perform in a single language at a time and conform to a monolingual standard in each is neither realistic nor desirable. Instead, translanguaging practices are viewed as valid and beneficial (García & Leiva 2014). Incorporating this perspective into language work involves first acknowledging the multiple languages and contexts of learning and usage that speakers experience. This is precisely what Grenoble (2011, 2013) advocates when she argues that researchers should document language ecologies rather than specific language varieties that are imagined as “pure.” Similarly, Childs et al. (2014) describe the sociolinguistic documentation of multilingual contexts not only as a means to understand language choice but also as a way to address researchers’ methodological bias steeped in Western language ideologies. Divorced from its actual complex and multilingual context, in such ideologies the language is   11 constructed as what it would be like if it were an independent linguistic system with no other influences, i.e. if all speakers were monolingual and had no contact or influence from any other language. These purist ideologies are scarcely reflected in real-world linguistic practice, particularly among Indigenous people who have experienced the subjugation of their languages and pressure to adopt colonial languages. Even before conquest, Indigenous languages have been in contact with one another (see Chapter 4). In other words, monolingualism is not only a rarity (Romaine 1995), but it is often imagined. This is especially true when it comes to language documentation and heritage language studies, where an imaginary pure monolingual system is the standard for comparison. Such a goal is self-defeating, lowering morale and generating linguistic insecurity among younger speakers, the only segment of the community that can reverse language shift, and it does so by labeling natural speech forms as errors. A language ecology perspective has great potential to yield insightful research that can support language maintenance. For example, language acquisition may be a much longer process than linguists usually imagine, extending far beyond the so-called critical period and in some cases being a lifelong process. Camacho-Rios (2022) has found that differences in morphological elaboration between younger South Bolivian Quechua speakers in urban settings compared to elder monolingual speakers in rural settings may not be due to language shift and change, but may instead have more to do with the time it takes to acquire the speech style used by elders, as more experienced users of the language. Another example comes from the Guringji Kriol speech community in Australia, where young people’s high-frequency use of English may suggest that they are undergoing language shift. However, Sloan et al. (2022) show that as people age, they in fact shift to using more Kriol. Thus, a   12 speaker’s stylistic repertoire as well as their language choice can change over their lifetime, depending on local sociocultural norms, ideologies, and practices.  These insights can be combined with heritage language approaches in order to study linguistic structure among multilingual youth without comparing them against a “pure” language model that they have “imperfectly acquired.” To assess proficiency and speakerhood against a predetermined checklist of linguistic features to be acquired misses out on the dynamic language practices of speech communities as well as variation and innovation in language structure.  I argue here for combining elements of all of the aforementioned research approaches—language documentation and revitalization, heritage language research, translanguaging, and language ecologies—into language work that aims to document language structure and facilitate Indigenous communities’ language maintenance efforts in diaspora. Each piece is necessary but not sufficient to achieve the goal of language maintenance. One simple way to move towards this integrated approach is to include multilingual youth in language work. Rather than operating within ideologies of the monolingual standard and linguistic purism, researchers should embrace the speech of multilingual youth as a natural part of language variation. Currently, such variation does not receive significant attention in language documentation, although some researchers advocate for greater focus on this issue (see Grenoble 2013; Childs et al. 2014; Mansfield & Stanford 2017). By including multilingual youth in research, linguists are more likely to treat multilingual usage as a fluid, complex, and rich linguistic repertoire, challenge ideals of monolingual behavior and compartmentalized monoglossic multilingualism (Rosa & Flores 2017). Embracing everyday multilingualism and understanding the social and linguistic processes that underlie it can   13 yield insights of the sort that both sociocultural and documentary linguists are interested in. Moreover, this approach valorizes those practices, an important part of supporting youth to maintain their languages and experience linguistic pride (e.g., Bucholtz et al. 2014). Such efforts are particularly important when linguists work in Indigenous diaspora settings because of the factors that distinguish their language situations from other immigrant communities.  1.4 Indigenous Diaspora I use the term Indigenous diaspora context to encapsulate the social, political, and linguistic facets that characterize the heritage language situation for Ñuu Savi communities in California and the U.S. at large. In addition to conveniently referring to the set of circumstances that comprise the context for this work, the term also distinguishes the Ñuu Savi diaspora context from the typical immigration-based heritage language situation described above. The differences between these contexts motivate the theoretical and methodological approach taken in this work, which is required to achieve community language maintenance and planning goals. Furthermore, distinguishing the heritage language situation of Indigenous migrant and refugee communities may serve as a useful starting point for addressing the sociolinguistic experiences and language goals of similar communities, which are already well established in the U.S. and will likely become more prevalent. The distinction facilitates comparison across groups whose experiences differ from the “typical” heritage language experience in similar ways. The term Indigenous diaspora context also brings to the forefront several additional issues related to language shift that are not at play in the typical heritage language context. The basic situation is essentially the same in both   14 immigration and Indigenous diaspora contexts: in the host country the home language is minoritized and there is pressure to shift to the dominant language(s) of the surrounding society, exacerbated by separation from the homeland where the language is most robust and whose speech community is usually considered to be the most vibrant. However, in addition to these two primary characteristics of the immigrant language situation, in the Indigenous diaspora setting, and particularly in the Ñuu Savi case, the Indigenous language is not only minoritized in the new country but it may also be largely unrecognized (e.g., Campbell-Montalvo 2023). Additional factors that shape the language situation in Indigenous diaspora contexts include language shift in the community of origin (e.g., Yoshioka 2010), large-scale migration from the community of origin (Edinger 1985; Varese & Escárcega 2004; Stephen 2007; Lopez 2016), high diversification of the language group with numerous varieties spoken in close proximity in the diaspora community (Reyes Basurto et al. 2021), and a dearth of documentation on the majority of the languages. For many Indigenous peoples, language shift is not a new phenomenon that comes with recent migration, but has long been a force that accompanied colonization. For the Ñuu Savi and other Indigenous groups in Mexico, their languages have already been under conditions of minoritization in Mexico and pressure to shift to Spanish. This pressure persists in the U.S., but is coupled with additional pressure to yield to English. Relatedly, large-scale migration from the community of origin means that the languages’ stronghold, the homeland where the language is most widely and robustly used, is weakened in its status. The home community may still be the place where the language is most used by young people and where specific knowledge domains and registers and speech styles persist, but the audience for acquiring those forms, styles, and knowledge is greatly reduced as is transmission   15 throughout the transnational community. Together, phenomena of language shift in the community of origin and widespread migration from the community of origin contrast with the typical heritage language situation where the language in the home country is safely robust. Most immigrants encounter some language shift pressures, but Indigenous people in diaspora experience these pressures in a particularly intensified way and on multiple fronts. What is more, the high degree of diversification within the Tu’un Savi language groups (Smith Stark 1995; Kaufman 2006) introduces additional pressures to shift in the diaspora and poses challenges for language maintenance efforts. With this diversification comes varying degrees of mutual intelligibility among the varieties (Egland 1983, but see Auderset et al. 2023 on the limitations of intelligibility as a metric of structural similarity/difference). As a result, other languages (e.g., Spanish, English, or a locally dominant Tu’un Savi variety) may be favored for intervarietal communication when available. In language maintenance and literacy efforts, it is not clear which variety to study and teach or how to accommodate multiple disparate varieties (but see Bax et al. in press). Furthermore, this rich multilingual and multivarietal context can make it difficult to identify the source of individual differences in speech—particularly, for the purposes of this dissertation, among youth. Such differences may be attributable to exposure to more than one variety in the home or at work or to general language shift processes such as analogy to other forms or paradigm leveling.  Because the majority of the Tu’un Savi languages are undocumented or underdocumented, little is known about the differences across varieties. Often when community members are asked about the differences between certain varieties, they report that much of the difference lies in the “tono,” regardless of whether it is a variety they can readily understand, understand somewhat or with difficulty, or not at all. “Tono” is   16 ambiguous and can mean many different things. The fact that Tu’un Savi languages are tonal is a well-known and salient fact about the languages to their speakers. Taken at face value, these comments could indicate either that the varieties in question have the same tone inventories but differ in the lexical tones of cognate forms or that the tone inventories fundamentally differ. There may also be numerous morphosyntactic differences that can impede understanding. The lack of descriptive accounts of intervarietal differences, even among closely related and highly mutually intelligible varieties, can only be addressed with the time-intensive documentation work, which must be balanced with the outcome-focused work of attending to the language needs of the community and in particular heritage language speakers and learners.  One remedy to this conundrum is to include such speakers in language documentation work and approach both goals in tandem. Traditional language documentation ignores multilingual youth and the critical role that their involvement plays in language maintenance. At the same time, only focusing on heritage language assessment and pedagogy may miss broad documentation and description, which runs the risk of alienating young people and others with some linguistic insecurity from their heritage language. In this situation, multilingual speakers lack a foundation from which to explain and valorize their rich range of linguistic forms—many of which may be incorrectly identified as “errors” or “innovations” but are in fact based in established speech forms in their community. As I demonstrate in the following chapters of this dissertation, a diaspora linguistics approach that combines these different frameworks in a unified perspective that centers multilingual youth is essential to supporting community language maintenance goals in the Indigenous diasporic context of Tu’un Savi speakers on California’s Central Coast.   17  1.5 Conclusion In this chapter I have outlined the theoretical disalignment that emerges when siloed approaches to language work are applied to a community language context that requires all of them. I have argued that the specific context of the Ñuu Savi diaspora community I collaborate with demands a methodological rethinking of researcher-led language work and a more integrated approach that combines multiple linguistic tools and perspectives to holistically address community goals for their language. I have laid out a theoretical and methodological proposal for such an approach, which integrates aspects of language documentation, sociocultural linguistics, applied linguistics, heritage language research, language ecology, and translanguaging approaches to multilingualism, and that includes multilingual youth in language work. In Chapter 2 I delve more fully into the ethnographic context in which this work emerges. I introduce the Ñuu Savi people and situate their languages within their geographic location and genetic affiliation, including the language variet(ies) centered in this project, and I summarize Ñuu Savi diasporic migration and the language situation in the U.S. I illustrate the local diasporic community demographics and language situation with data from a recent community language survey carried out in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties. Finally, I narrate my trajectory of involvement in collaborative work with community language workers and describe my attempts to conduct research in an ethical and reciprocal way. In Chapter 3, I present an ethnographic linguistic profile of each of 9 family members who participated in the study based on their responses to a questionnaire on their language and migration histories. The chapter examines some prominent language ideologies   18 circulating in the community both about multilingual speakers and about how speakerhood is assigned, and it links these ideologies to differences in participants’ individual language and migration histories. It also analyzes the variable attribution of speakerhood by family members to the same individuals as well as individuals’ differing reports of language use patterns, arguing that multilinguals are more likely to recognize others' language abilities that do not conform to monolingual standards.  Chapter 4 is a qualitative study of variation in the use and avoidance of loanwords in semi-structured narrative elicitation tasks in the same extended family introduced in Chapter 3. It examines the range of strategies that younger multilingual participants use to avoid loanwords and/or display their reluctance to use loanwords. I link these strategies across speakers both to the ideologies of language purism and linguistic deficiency that circulate in the community and to the perceived formality and monolingual expectations of the narrative elicitation tasks. I draw on examples of two phenomena from the narratives that may provide a basis for valorizing the linguistic practices of multilingual youth and supporting their linguistic self-determination: 1) the unproblematic use of loanwords by monolingual speakers from the adult generation in conjunction with a traditional and valued speech style, which highlights a disjunction between ideology and practice and reveals that loanwords do not necessarily render speech inauthentic; and 2) loanword avoidance strategies, especially the use of relative clauses, which highlight young people’s proficiency with language structure, sensitivity to social and ideological factors, and adept linguistic maneuvering to navigate and manage such pressures. Finally, the conclusion summarizes the previous chapters and unites them under a research program that combines approaches from multiple linguistic subfields in order to   19 holistically work toward community language maintenance goals while supporting multilingual youth in their linguistic self-determination. This chapter illustrates the approach by sketching a hypothetical lesson plan that could be used in language maintenance efforts with Na Savi youth.      20 CHAPTER 2 Ñuu Savi communities and Tu'un Savi languages  This chapter provides background on Ñuu Savi communities in Mexico and the US, with a focus on migration patterns, multilingualism, and social issues affecting language shift and maintenance. It presents basic classification and details about the language family and identifies the focal varieties of the dissertation, locating them both geographically and sociolinguistically. I also present new demographic data on the Santa Barbara/Ventura County Ñuu Savi community from a recent community language survey carried out by the collaborative research team, Mexican Indigenous Languages Promotion and Advocacy (MILPA) (Bax et al. in press). Lastly, I detail my positionality within this work, including my history of involvement in joint projects and the relationality (Galla 2021; Leonard 2021) between myself and community linguist research collaborators and other community members.  This ethnographic background and my role as researcher provide context for the development of this project and the analyses contained in the following chapters. In the previous chapter I limited my description of the local language situation to those aspects that motivate the theoretical and methodological approach of diaspora linguistics. In this chapter I provide a more detailed depiction of Ñuu Savi communities and the Tu’un Savi language family, including the reasons for and trajectories of community members’ transnational migration, the community in the California diaspora, and the diasporic language situation. I then discuss the local context in which this work takes place, namely Ventura and Santa Barbara Counties, drawing on findings from a recent community language survey carried out   21 by members of the MILPA collective. I give particular attention to the variety of Tu’un Savi that is the focus of this dissertation, Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which originates in the Mexican municipality of San Martín Peras and is the variety spoken by the members of the diasporic community with whom I carried out my research.   2.1 Ñuu Savi ‘el pueblo mixteco’ The term Ñuu Savi ‘el pueblo mixteco’ (the collective term for the Mixtec people or the Mixtec community) refers to the Indigenous ethnolinguistic and cultural group whose homeland is a region of southern Mexico known as La Mixteca, which encompasses a swath of western Oaxaca and parts of the states of Guerrero and Puebla (Figure 2.1). The members of this group speak one of the many varieties of Tu’un Savi, a highly diverse group of languages in the Mixtecan branch of Eastern Otomanguean (§2.2.1). Speakers’ identity as Na Savi (an individual Mixtec person or Mixtec people) is not only based on linguistic relatedness but also on shared cultural practices and common history. For example, all Na Savi groups have an endonym based on cognates with ‘rain’, which Josserand (1983) reconstructs for proto-Mixtec as *sawiʔ (INALI 2009).    22  Figure 2.1. La Mixteca region of Mexico (source: Aguilar Sánchez 2020: 24).   The Mixteca region is in the northwestern portion of the state of Oaxaca (Figure 2.2); however, the traditional territory of La Mixteca crosses over state lines and includes portions of the states of Puebla to the north and Guerrero to the west as well as settlements along the Oaxacan coast (Figure 2.1). The district of Juxtlahuaca is in the southwestern portion of the Mixteca region and contains the municipality of San Martín Peras, which borders the state of Guerrero (Figure 2.3).     23  Figure 2.2. Map of the state of Oaxaca with region and district levels of political organization (inset: location of Oaxaca within Mexico). The Juxtlahuaca district lies within the Mixteca region. (Source: Wikipedia 2010a).      Figure 2.3. Map of the district of Juxtlahuaca and the municipal levels of political organization. San Martín Peras is in the northwestern corner and borders the state of Guerrero. (Source: Wikipedia 2010b).     24 2.2 The Tu’un Savi languages Tu’un Savi is a general endonym used to refer to Mixtec languages collectively and individually (e.g., Julián Caballero 1999; Guadalupe Joaquina 2014; INALI 2022). I reserve the term to designate the Mixtec language family and the Mixtec languages broadly, without variety-specific tonal diacritics. When referring to a specific variety, I use its endonym, often qualified with the name of the town or municipality with which it is associated. When I was unable to confirm a variety’s endonym, I refer to it as the Tu’un Savi variety of the specific town in which it is spoken. Some varieties have two competing endonyms. This is the case for those spoken in the municipality of San Martín Peras. The varieties of San Martín Peras are colloquially referred to as Tù’un Ntá’vi by speakers, as are several other varieties with which the MILPA project works, using variety-specific cognate forms. Although this is the name most widely used and recognized by speakers of the language, including elders and monolingual individuals, Na Savi intellectuals and activists have been popularizing alternate endonyms based on tu’un savi, which some community members have adopted to refer to their individual varieties with the corresponding tones and phonology of their variety-specific cognate forms. In the variety of San Martín Peras, this is rendered as Tù’un Sàjvǐ. 1  The first word of the language names Tù’un Ntá’vi and Tù’un Sàjvǐ, tù’un, in this case means ‘language’, but it can also refer to ‘word’, ‘story’, or ‘speech’. Although ntá’vi is arguably the most recognizable name for the language to the majority of its users, the word has multiple interpretations, some of them negative. In reference to the language, ntá’vi may  1 The orthography used here differs from the IPA as follows: v = [β̞], kuV = [kwV], r = [ɾ], tsiV = [tsjV], ch = [tʃ], x = [ʃ], ñ = [ɲ], y = [j], ’ = [ʔ], j = [h], Vn = nasal vowel, V́ = high tone, V = mid tone, V̀ = low tone, V̌ = rising tone, V̂ = falling tone, ‘-‘ = clitic boundary.   25 be translated as ‘humble’ or ‘common’, both in the sense of widespread, everyday, and shared. The term may also be used to refer to an everyday speech style, as opposed to the ornate registers used in formal and ritual speech (Nieves 2012) and positions of authority within the cargo system of civil self-governance in speakers’ communities of origin (DeWalt 1975). More generally, however, ntá’vi means ‘poverty’ and is also used as an attributive adjective meaning ‘poor’. With the rising social and political activism against anti-Indigenous discrimination on the part of Na Savi people in the US, ntá’vi is increasingly seen as problematic for its potential to reinforce ideologies of Indigenous languages as deficient, mere “dialectos” as opposed to fully fledged systematic and rule-governed linguistic systems, and as the supposed reason for economic poverty (Perez & Vásquez 2024: 11). Thus, in an effort to valorize Indigenous languages and combat racist and colonial ideologies linking Indigenous languages to harmful stereotypes about Indigenous people, Na Savi intellectuals and activists have been promoting endonyms with savi ‘rain’, which occurs in endonyms for the Mixtec people and homeland.  The choice of endonym is therefore complex. On the one hand, using endonyms like Tù’un Ntá’vi may be more recognizable to some speakers. Those who are unfamiliar with the movement to embrace Tu’un Savi-based cognate forms as endonyms for all varieties may not recognize that research or materials labeled Tù’un Sàjvǐ are about their variety and are intended for their use. On the other hand, Tu’un Savi-based cognate endonyms may instill in Na Savi people, particularly transnational youth, a sense of pride in their Indigenous identity, culture, and language. Tu’un Savi-based endonyms are the usual name in a number of varieties, and cognates with savi also form part of the endonym for the ethnic and cultural group (i.e., Ñuu Savi). Thus, the shift toward variety-specific instantiations of Tu’un Savi as   26 an endonym may be seen as part of the process of pan-Mixtec identity formation and civic organizing that have been ongoing for several decades as well as part of broader advocacy for Indigenous pride in the United States. At the same time, it is important to point out that common translations in academic writing of Ñuu Savi and Tu’un Savi as ‘people of the rain’ and ‘language of the rain’ respectively risk reinforcing romanticized and exoticized stereotypes of Indigenous people as mystical, close to nature, and confined to an ancient historic past. In colonial and pre-colonial Tu’un Savi writings, savi (dzahui) referred to a rain deity or the place of the rain god (Terraciano 2001), which is obscured by the moniker “people of the rain.” Despite these complexities, I use Tù’un Sàjvǐ to refer to the specific varieties of San Martín Peras that are the focus of this dissertation. Although my co-authors and I have previously used Tù’un Ntá’vi elsewhere (e.g., Peters 2018; Peters & Mendoza 2020; Peters et al. in preparation), I follow the lead of my community collaborators in determining how to refer to and represent their language, since names are dynamic, personal, political, and in this case, in flux.  2.2.1 Tu’un Savi genealogy, subgrouping, and structure The Tu’un Savi languages have been described as a language complex (Kaufman 2006) with considerable linguistic diversity (Jiménez Moreno 1962). Attempts at characterizing this diversity range from estimates of as many as 200 distinct varieties (Smith Stark 1995) to 81 varieties (INALI 2009) to 52 languages with dialect distinctions and varying degrees of mutual intelligibility (Egland 1983; Eberhard et al. 2024). With respect to the internal relations of the language family, Josserand (1983) classifies the varieties of 120 towns into 12 primary dialect groups, which have been largely confirmed with some small differences   27 by Auderset et al. (2023). Little is known about the relationships among varieties within these 12 groups (Campbell 2017a). The Tu’un Savi languages, together with Cuicatec and Triqui, make up the Mixtecan subgroup in the eastern branch of the broader Otomanguean family (Rensch 1976; Campbell 2017b), as illustrated in Figure 2.4.   Figure 2.4. Otomanguean language family, with the Mixtec group circled in red (source:  Campbell 2017b: 3, based on Kaufmann 1988).   The sheer diversity of the language family and the dearth of research on it has unfortunately resulted in the mischaracterization of ‘Mixtec’ as a single language, albeit with the inevitable variation and “dialectal” differences linguists expect in any language. It is critical to understand that Tu’un Savi is a language family (Campbell 2017b: 5), akin to Germanic or Sinitic, and that structural differences and variability in mutual intelligibility (e.g., Padgett 2017) greatly impact the language situation in the diaspora where speakers of   28 distinct varieties encounter one another. This situation is compounded by the dearth of research across the family. The basic order of constituents in Tu’un Savi languages is VS/VAO. Verbs inflect for aspect-mood, but not tense, and display a large number of inflectional classes in some varieties (Palancar et al. 2016; Peters et al. in preparation). A substantial amount of the inflectional load is borne by grammatical tone, for which Tu’un Savi languages are well known. Grammatical tone also plays a role in adjectival derivation, negation (Palancar et al. 2016: 115), and, to a lesser degree, marking of transitivity on verbs (Campbell et al. in preparation). Inventories and distributions of lexical tones vary widely across varieties (e.g., Peters 2018; Castillo García 2007) and are organized around a basic bimoraic constituent known as a couplet (Pike 1948; Longacre 1957). So robust is tone throughout the structure of the languages that it has been reconstructed for proto-Mixtec (Dürr 1987; Auderset 2024; Swanton & Mendoza Ruiz 2021).  2.2.2 The Tù’un Sàjvǐ variety/varieties of San Martín Peras Municipality The variety of Tu’un Savi that is the focus of this dissertation can loosely be defined as that of the municipality of San Martín Peras in Oaxaca. In Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, the varieties of at least 60 towns are spoken, representing 27 municipalities and 6 of Josserand’s (1983) subgroups (Bax et al. in press); in this region of California, the varieties of San Martín Peras municipality constitute the plurality. The variety is roughly aligned with the boundaries of the municipality; the language of each town and locality has not yet been investigated, but reportedly they are mutually intelligible and speakers communicate easily with one another (Mendoza et al. 2023) despite some (morpho)phonological and lexical   29 differences among the varieties that have been investigated so far. Therefore, I use the term variety to refer to the speech associated with specific towns as well as in broader reference to the linguistic varieties associated with the municipality generally. At least in the diaspora, speakers tend to identify themselves and their language in association with the municipality rather than their specific hometown. For example, speakers refer to the “Peras” variety. Additionally, it is not uncommon for an individual's parents to come from two different towns and thus have a repertoire including forms from both varieties. As a result, attributing a person’s speech to the variety of a single town is not always a straightforward task. For example, there is idiolectal variation between si~sa for the causative auxiliary prefix and xìì~xàà for the adverbial ‘already’. This variation may be the result of contact between closely related varieties of San Martín Peras or between more distantly related varieties now in contact in the diaspora (Hernández Martínez et al. 2021). Hence, while there are documented differences between varieties spoken in individual towns within San Martín Peras, the boundaries between them are sociolinguistically porous (Mendoza et al. 2023) and do not prevent speakers from conceiving of a higher-level grouping associated with the municipality. Alternatively, the differences between Peras varieties may not always be salient or discernible enough to distinguish by individuals from outside of the municipality, whether Na Savi or non-Indigenous. Similarly, it may be a matter of convenience to identify oneself with a single municipality rather than providing a detailed family history. Indeed, practices of village-level exogamy occur in the Mixteca as well as throughout Mesoamerica and may simply not be noteworthy. The speech varieties that are the focus of this research belong to individuals from the towns of Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá (Piedra Azul) and Namà (Paredón) within the municipality of San   30 Martín Peras (see Figure 2.3 above). The participants have lived a large portion of their lives in California, but maintain their linguistic and cultural practices as well as their connections to their hometowns and families in Oaxaca. Most of them have spent time in both Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá and Namà but identify more strongly with one or the other. Some morpholexical differences between these two varieties are shown in Table 2.1.    Namà Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá ‘fox’ ntsikuii chìkuii ‘scorpion’ tsìsò’mà so’ma  Table 2.1. Lexical pairs from the towns of Namà and Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá in the municipality of San Martín Peras.  As shown in the table, the varieties of the two towns differ in the form of the fossilized prefix used to compose the word for ‘fox’. Moreover, for ‘scorpion’, the Namà variety forms the word with a fossilized animal classifier plus a stem that is cognate with the word for ‘tail’ in other varieties (Josserand 1983), while in the Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá variety the unmarked root is used. Despite meaning ‘tail’ in other varieties, the form sò’mà/so’ma in each of these words is not polysemous with ‘tail’ in either Namà or Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá. Instead, they both use the form nto’ǒ for ‘tail’. All of the prefix, classifier, and root elements shown in Table 2.1 exist in both varieties but have lexicalized differently in each. These lexical differences are minor enough so as not to impede intelligibility. Furthermore, the recognizability and similarity between variants may facilitate the frequent use of both forms in the idiolects of those who have familiarity with both varieties. For example, someone with one parent from each town may draw from both variant speech forms and may not readily know which town associated with which form. Additionally, variation in the lexical tone pattern for certain words may   31 vary by age group rather than geographically, such as the word for ‘tuber yam’, which has a MM tone pattern, ña’mi, among younger people but is pronounced ña’mǐ, with a MR tone pattern, by older people.  Almost everyone in both Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá and Namà speaks Tù’un Sàjvǐ, and around a third of the population are monolingual Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers. According to the most recent Mexican census, 2020, the municipality of San Martín Peras has a total population of 12,436 individuals and is comprised of 60 towns and localities (INEGI 2020a).2 Of the population 3 years of age and older (11,616 individuals), 96.7% speak an Indigenous language (i.e., Tù’un Sàjvǐ), with 37% of those reported to be monolingual (i.e., not to speak Spanish). The census reports that Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá has a population of 91 individuals. Of these, 88 are 3 years of age and above, and all of them speak an Indigenous language. Thirty-three percent (29 individuals) are monolingual (INEGI 2020a). Namà has a population of 237, of whom 218 are 3 years of age and older and 215 speak an Indigenous language. Monolinguals account for 38.1% of this group (82 individuals). This level of detail is not available for the communities in California, for a variety of reasons discussed in the following section.   2.3 Ñuu Savi migration and diaspora Beyond San Martín Peras, Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers also live in diaspora communities throughout Mexico and California (Hernández Martínez et al. 2021). Transnational migration along the Ruta Mixteca (Varese & Escárcega 2004) has facilitated the formation of semi-permanent communities around industrial agriculture centers in Northwestern Mexico,  2 This figure for the number of localities excludes those consisting of one and two dwellings. Indirectly, it can be inferred that they account for an additional 4 or 5 localities.    32 California, and Oregon. For Ñuu Savi people from San Martín Peras, the route commonly includes several locations around Sinaloa, Baja California, and California, where employment has expanded from primarily seasonal agricultural work into professional and academic spaces as well. Ñuu Savi presence in California stems at least as far back as the U.S government’s 1942-1964 Bracero Program (Fox & Rivera-Salgado 2004; Stephen 2007), but the transnational “Oaxacalifornia” communities (Kearney 1995, 2000; Varese and Escárcega 2004: 18, n. 4) emerged largely through the forced migration triggered when economic factors (Edinger 1985), land privatization, and the North American Free Trade Agreement dispossessed Mexico’s rural Indigenous populations of their land and livelihood (Lopez 2016). The 2020 Mexican Census reports that the municipality of San Martín Peras has the third highest population of foreign-born residents in the state of Oaxaca (INEGI 2020b: 37), behind only the state capital and another multiethnic regional magnet city, Huajuapan de León. This is a testament not only to the centrality of San Martín Peras to the Ñuu Savi diaspora but also to the continued transnational nature of the community living and working along the Ruta Mixteca.  As noted above, exact population counts are not known for the diaspora communities outside of their homelands. Because the Mexican census does not report respondents’ Indigenous language by name, even within Mexico the number of Na Savi living and working in diaspora communities along the Ruta Mixteca is difficult to discern with certainty. Similarly, although since 2000 the U.S. census has included response options that can identify Indigenous people of Latin America (Huizar Murillo & Cerda 2004), migrant workers are considered a “hard-to-count” population (United States Census Bureau 2019),   33 and, as with the Mexican census, the U.S. census does not report respondents’ specific ethnolinguistic identities. Researchers have estimated the size of this diasporic population in a variety of ways. Escala Rabadán and Rivera-Salgado estimate that 350,000 Indigenous Mexicans live in California (2018: 39), many of whom are Ñuu Savi from across the Mixteca region. Kresge (2007) provides population estimates for Indigenous Oaxacan communities in the counties of 6 California regions; “Mixtec” (i.e., Tu’un Savi) is among the principal languages in every county listed. People from San Martín Peras are known to be in the plurality in several communities that lie within at least 3 counties in the Central Coast region of California as well as in Ventura County, which Kresge (2007) treats as a separate reporting region. The combined total population estimates for these counties (Santa Barbara, Monterey, Santa Cruz, and Ventura) ranges between 39,000 and 47,000. Although these figures are over a decade old and include Tu’un Savi speakers from other municipalities as well as individuals from other Indigenous ethnolinguistic groups of Mexico, it is likely that San Martín Peras-affiliated Ñuu Savi community members make up a sizeable portion of this group. More recently, Mendoza et al. (2023) estimate that the number of speakers of the Peras variety in the California diaspora is in the several thousands. Within Ventura County, the most recent published estimate is that Na Savi people make up 15% of the county’s population, but it is not clear what this figure is based on (Perez & Vásquez 2024: 1).  As I discuss in the next section, in the California Central Coast region, several organizations exist to support the linguistic needs and goals of this diasporic population.    2.4 MICOP and MILPA   34 The emergence of a pan-Mixtec, pan-Oaxaqueño, and pan-Indigenous/Indígena identity in the late 20th and early 21st centuries has been thoroughly documented by sociologists, labor theorists, and other scholars through the emergence of a transnational civil society composed of Indigenous migrant labor groups in the U.S. and Mexico (ECO 2013; Fox & Rivera-Salgado 2004; Velasco Ortiz 2005; Kearney 2000, 1995a; Nagengast & Kearney 1990). These and other organizations have formed to support Indigenous groups in Mexico and the diaspora. One such group, the Mixteco/Indígena Organizing Project (MICOP), is the partner organization for the present research. MICOP is based in Oxnard in Ventura County and has a branch office in Santa Maria in Santa Barbara County, as well as a recently opened location in Paso Robles in San Luis Obispo County.  In California, Na Savi people experience significant pressure to shift to Spanish and English due in part to the association between these colonial languages and socioeconomic mobility. Another major pressure is the numerous obstacles to language access in key social and governmental spheres. Although recognition of Tu’un Savi and other Indigenous languages of Mexico and Central America is growing in California thanks to the advocacy work of organizations like MICOP, key services and information are still mostly provided only in colonial languages, in contexts such as education, legal services (León 2014), and healthcare (Uliasz 2018). The hardship that this creates for monolingual speakers of Tu’un Savi incentivizes language shift as parents determine which languages to pass on to their children (e.g., Perry 2009; Pérez Báez 2013; Menchaca Bishop & Kelley 2013). On the other hand, I have heard from some youth, both in conversation and in response to the community language survey (§2.5), that this hardship incentivizes them to maintain their Indigenous language because they can use their multilingual repertoire to help others navigate English-   35 and Spanish-language spaces and bureaucracies. At the same time, Indigenous youth in the United States experience pressure to shift their language practices or conceal their identities due to normative school language practices, homogenization and erasure in bureaucratic school structures (Kovats 2010; Campbell-Montalvo 2023), and racist anti-Indigenous bullying and discrimination (Perez et al. 2016; Machado-Casas 2012; Barillas-Chón 2010).  In addition to the numerous varieties of Tu’un Savi spoken in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, there are multiple other Indigenous languages and varieties, such as Otomí, P’urhépecha, and Zapotec. The result is a multiethnic and multilingual situation in which community members often speak two or three languages. The challenges of sustaining rich multilingualism and both inter-community and intra-community communication while pursuing language access to critical services and economic opportunities form the backdrop of the issues of language shift and language maintenance in the community. It is in this context that members of MICOP and UCSB linguistics initiated a collaboration to address language-related issues. The collaboration, Mexican Indigenous Languages Promotion and Advocacy (MILPA), conducts a range of research initiatives including language documentation, literacy development, and a college-level linguistics curriculum taught by UCSB linguistics graduate students with MICOP’s Tequio youth group (Bax et al. in press) as part of UCSB’s SKILLS academic justice program (Bucholtz et al. 2019). The course is tailored to topics of language shift and maintenance, multilingualism, Mesoamerican Indigenous languages, and youth language practices (see Chapter 5). Another MILPA research initiative is the community language survey discussed in the next section. The impetus for the community language survey discussed in the next section was the desire to effectively address these issues in a community-centered way and to better   36 understand the community’s makeup. The collaborative design and administration of the survey is described in the following section, along with some preliminary results. Quotes from the survey related to language ideologies of multilingualism and youth language practices are presented in Chapter 3.  2.5 The Community Language Survey  This section reports some of the quantitative results from the community language survey, which was carried out between 2018 and 2020. The survey took the form of sociolinguistic interviews conducted in Tu’un Savi, Spanish, and/or English, mostly by community MILPA team members Griselda Reyes Basurto and Inî G. Mendoza. The survey reached nearly 500 respondents living in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, the majority of them Na Savi. Community demographics, language use, language attitudes, and linguistic diversity were among the key topics of interest investigated through the survey. Respondents were asked about their own language choices in various contexts as well as their perceptions of the linguistic choices of others within their community. The present section draws upon the survey results, reporting relevant descriptive statistics in order to provide context for the research detailed in Chapters 3 and 4.    2.5.1 Survey development and administration The community language survey is the result of a two-year collaborative project carried out by MICOP and MILPA beginning in 2015. In 2017 members of the MICOP leadership, Arcenio López (Executive Director) and Vanessa Terán (former Program Manager, current Policy Director), and MILPA director Eric W. Campbell and associate director Mary   37 Bucholtz (both linguistics faculty at UCSB) collectively determined that surveying the local Mexican Indigenous migrant community that MICOP serves would mutually support the individual and joint work of MICOP and MILPA. As described above, population estimates for Mexican Indigenous groups in California are outdated, incomplete, and often impressionistic. Working predominantly as migrant farmworkers, MICOP’s constituents are highly mobile and speak numerous under-resourced languages. Their resulting status as a “hard-to-count” population by the US Census Bureau motivated a partnership between MICOP and the US Census Bureau in 2020 to do outreach among Indigenous farmworker constituents to ensure more accurate representation. Because the exact makeup of the community along the Central Coast fluctuates, the estimates from a decade ago are unlikely to reflect the current population size or demographics. MICOP desired a survey of the local community in order to update its understanding of who exactly its constituents are, what towns and regions they come from, and what languages and language varieties they speak. Because MICOP provides a range of services to community members in their community languages, this knowledge is critical to the organization’s ability to continue fulfilling its core functions with as wide a reach as possible. Additionally, gaining input from a broad section of the community about their language use, ideologies, and desired services or outcomes was needed to help guide MILPA to best serve the language-related needs expressed by the community. The survey instrument consisted of 32 (mostly multipart) questions organized thematically into three main sections. In addition to the sections asking about demographic information, language use, and language ideologies, a fourth section consisting of a 44-item wordlist was elicited from each respondent in their Indigenous language. A fifth section   38 posed a short series of questions about what respondents perceived to be the greatest language-related issues they and their community face and how they would like MICOP and UCSB to address them. (See Appendix for the English version of the survey protocol, which excludes explanatory information and interview “script” text for survey administrators.) The instrument was designed as an interview protocol both because of varying literacy rates within the community and in order to elicit longer narrative responses from participants to yield the richest possible insights from the data. This approach allowed for the quantitative analysis of survey data as well as qualitative analysis of language ideologies and linguistic experiences.  Surveys were administered primarily by Griselda Reyes Basurto, a long-time MICOP employee with years of experience doing outreach, interpretation, and language work. She is a founding member of MILPA and began collaborating on language work in 2015 as the consultant for a year-long field methods course taught by Eric at UCSB. Some of the surveys were administered by Inî G. Mendoza, who likewise joined in language work collaborations early on in the MILPA project. Inî is an academic linguist and current MICOP employee who also has years of experience doing outreach, interpretation, and language work. A smaller portion of surveys were administered by high school students, mostly of high-school age, who participated in the 2018 SKILLS course. My co-instructor and fellow linguistics graduate student and MILPA team member Anna Bax and I trained students in survey administration and supervised their collection of 30 pilot surveys with participants recruited by MICOP. The remainder of recruitment was carried out under the coordination of Griselda. Some Tequio students continued administering surveys under Griselda’s supervision, but this was ultimately abandoned for logistical and scheduling reasons.    39  2.5.2 Survey results The following discussion comes from an interim report under development for MICOP leadership by MILPA team members Anna Bax, Mary Bucholtz, Eric W. Campbell, Alexia Z. Fawcett, and myself (MILPA in preparation) The quantitative data below provide further context for the multilingual language situation on the Central Coast. Qualitative data and community members’ quotes about language ideologies are presented in Chapter 3.  In total, there are 484 usable interviews, ranging from 15 to 60 minutes in length. The majority, 424, are reflected in the data below, while 60 were conducted entirely or partially in Tu’un Savi and are not yet included in the dataset. Overall, 133 interviews were conducted in Tu’un Savi, while another 15 were conducted in a combination of Spanish and Tu’un Savi. These linguistically mixed interviews are the result of a few different types of dynamics. In some, the interviewee switched languages part way through the recording. In one survey interview, a language broker interpreted to facilitate the exchange between the Spanish-speaking interviewer (a Tequio student) and the interviewee, who spoke in Tu’un Savi. The majority, 276, were conducted in Spanish. Twenty additional survey interviews were conducted in English or a combination of English and Spanish, usually with the interviewer asking questions in Spanish and the interviewee responding in English. An additional 40 interviews have not yet been classified with respect to language, but were likely conducted in Spanish or a combination of Spanish and English.       40 Tu’un Savi  (including 60 uncoded) Tu’un Savi-Spanish Spanish  (including 40 unclassified) English/ Spanish-English Total 133 15 316 20 484 27.5% 3.1% 65.3% 4.1% 100% Table 2.2. Number of community surveys, by language.  Snowball and convenience sampling methods were used; therefore, the survey sample is not representative of the entire Central Coast diasporic population. Of the 424 coded surveys, 372 respondents mentioned Tu’un Savi as a language they spoke or that was spoken by their family at some point in their lives; thus, this figure includes current speakers, receptive bilinguals, and those who might not consider themselves to have ever been a speaker of the language but had some exposure to it in the home. Of the 372 Na Savi respondents, 317 self-identified as current speakers, meaning that at least 55 may be considered heritage speakers of Tu’un Savi (see Chapter 3). Of these 372 respondents, 321 specified the geographic locale of their Tu’un Savi variety. These represent at least 60 distinct towns covering 27 municipalities and 6 of Josserand’s (1983) dialect groups. Of the 317 self-identified current speakers, almost half (139) speak a variety from the municipality of San Martín Peras, supporting frequently cited anecdotal evidence that the Peras variety is the most widely spoken on the Central Coast. The largest municipality/town affiliations are provided in Table 2.3. The town of San Francisco Higos was not included in Josserand’s (1983) study, but her team collected data with a local consultant, Geraldo López Gómez, who indicated that the speech in San Francisco Higos is similar to that of nearby San Jerónimo Progreso (Josserand et al. 1979: 2). Josserand (1983) identifies the latter variety as part of the Southern Baja group.    41 Respondents Locality affiliation Subgroup (Josserand 1983) 139 San Martín Peras, municipality at large Southern Baja 23 San Martín Duraznos Southern Baja 19 San Jorge Nuchita Central Baja 14 San Francisco Higos Southern Baja (likely) 10 San Miguel el Grande (municipality of Alcozauca de Guerrero) Guerrero 9 Metlatónoc Southern Baja 8 Unión de Cárdenas Southern Baja Table 2.3. Highest frequency geographic affiliations of Tu’un Savi varieties among respondents.  Question 12a of the survey protocol asks respondents which languages they speak in, using an open-ended question that allows multiple responses. The responses are summarized in Table 2.4.   Response Count Percentage Spanish 393 92.69% Tu’un Savi (Mixtec) 317 74.76% English 129 30.42% Other (P’urhépecha/Tarasco, Nahuatl/Mexicano, Mixe, and Huave) 15 3.54% Otomí 11 2.59% Zapotec 10 2.36% Triqui 0 0 No answer 0 0 Table 2.4. Languages that respondents report speaking, of 424 total respondents.   42  Of the 424 respondents, 92.69% report speaking Spanish, 74.76% report speaking Tu’un Savi, and 30.42% report speaking English. Smaller numbers report speaking Otomí, Zapotec, and other Mexican Indigenous languages, including P’urhépecha (Tarasco), Nahuatl (Mexicano), Mixe, and Huave. After the 60 surveys conducted primarily in Tu’un Savi are coded, these figures will likely shift toward a higher percentage of people reporting Tu’un Savi. Question 14 of the survey protocol asks respondents which languages are spoken in their household to any extent. As shown in Table 2.5, more than 50% of respondents report some English being spoken in their home. Given that 30% of respondents in Table 2.4 reported speaking English, that there is a substantial degree of exposure to English in the home, even among people who do not speak the language, suggesting a higher possibility of in-home language contact with English than was previously assumed by the research team. The “other” category in Table 2.5 includes P’urhépecha, Nahuatl, Huave, and Chatino. Some discrepancies in the languages reported between questions 12a and 14, such as the absence of Mixe in response to Question 14, may be due to a respondent who can speak the language but do not speak it with anyone in their household, or a respondent who does not speak a language used in their household.         43  Response Count Percentage Spanish 384 90.57% Tu’un Savi (Mixtec) 320 75.47% English 241 56.84% Zapotec 11 2.59% Other (P’urhépecha, Nahuatl, Huave, and Chatino) 10 2.36% Otomí 9 2.12% No answer 2 0.47% Triqui 0 0 Table 2.5. Languages spoken in respondents’ households, of 424 total respondents.  Interviewees were also asked how important it was personally for them to speak each of their languages (Question 29a). Of the 318 who reported speaking Tu’un Savi, the vast majority stated that speaking Tu’un Savi has a high level of importance to them personally (Table 2.6). Research assistants coded open-ended responses into three levels based on intensity of importance and calibrated their coding together as a team (see Bucholtz et al. under revision). A shortcoming in the survey design was not prompting responses to this question from Na Savi respondents who did not consider themselves speakers of Tu’un Savi. It would be valuable to know how self-described non-speakers, childhood speakers, or those with Tu’un Savi as a heritage language feel about language reclamation and learning.       44  Response Count Percentage High level of importance 272 85.53% Medium level of importance 14 4.40% Low level of importance 13 4.09% No answer 19 5.97% TOTAL 318 100% Table 2.6. Responses to the question “How important is it to you personally to speak Tu’un Savi?”, of 318 respondents.  When respondents were asked how important it was to them personally for their current or potential future children to speak Tu’un Savi (Question 30a), there were more “no answer” responses, but the number who indicated that it was very important remained high (Table 2.7).   Response Count Percentage High level of importance 225 70.98% Medium level of importance 21 6.62% Low level of importance 5 1.58% No answer 66 20.82% TOTAL 317 100% Table 2.7. Responses to the question “if you have children or plan to have them someday, how important is it to you personally for them to speak Tu’un Savi?”, of 317 respondents.  The responses in this table indicate the strong desire among Na Savi in California to maintain their language. At the same time, the results indicate ambivalence among some respondents about whether children should continue to acquire and use the language. This   45 aligns with the language-learning priorities of Na Savi adults in Morán-Lanier’s (2021) study, also on California’s Central Coast, who reported a strong desire to learn more Tu’un Savi, including developing literacy in the language, but also felt a need to prioritize learning English and Spanish in diaspora for reasons of economic mobility. The responses of participants who provided the as of yet uncoded survey interviews in Tu’un Savi will be important to include in this discussion, as they are likely largely monolingual and their ideologies may differ from others in the community. For example, they may feel more strongly that children should learn English and Spanish rather than Tu’un Savi because of their own experiences with barriers to language access, or they may value language maintenance to facilitate communication and connection within the family (cf. Wong-Fillmore 1996). This brief discussion of the survey and some of its preliminary findings provide additional context to the multilingual situation in the Ñuu Savi diaspora community on the Central Coasts. Future analysis of the survey data will focus on questions about the relationship between language and both birthplace and migration history, as well as educational experience. As Griselda has pointed out to me, language maintenance and shift practices may vary depending on hometown affiliation. For example, she has observed that community members who identify with specific towns tend to speak only Spanish and English, while others maintain a strong trilingual repertoire (Reyes Basurto p.c.). Moreover, in planning Tu’un Savi language maintenance programming and pedagogical resources in this context, with its high levels of variation, it will be helpful to understand not only individuals’ varietal affiliations but also their practical orientations to language maintenance and multilingualism. Similarly, in endeavors centering the Peras variety, as the locally most   46 spoken variety, it may be helpful not only to explore further the structural differences in the speech of the towns within the municipality, but also to use the survey data to take a more granular look at whether trends differ in maintenance and shift patterns based on town affiliation, rather than treating the diaspora community as homogeneous across the Peras municipality.   2.6 Researcher role and positionality Researcher relationships with communities and community members have always been at the center of linguistic research, but only recently have the epistemological repercussions of ethical (or not) research relationships been acknowledged and taken up more broadly across the field (e.g., Leonard 2021). Thus, the relationships that facilitate research must be attended to as part of the ethnographic context in which that research has emerged. In this section, I therefore round out the broader social and ethnographic context discussed in this chapter, by addressing my own role in the research. I present a narrative timeline of some of my involvement with language work in the Central Coast Ñuu Savi diaspora community focusing on the relationality between me, my collaborators, other members of the MILPA team, and the community partner organization MICOP. In doing so, I situate myself with respect to this work and in relation to my collaborators and the community at large in order to make clear how my positionality influences my research, how it shaped my approach, and how it limits the kinds of knowledge I have access to or the kinds of questions I may think to ask. This reflexive account is intended to enable readers to interpret the research with an understanding of how I have shaped it as an active participant, both in its design and in my broader research relationships (Hou 2017).    47 I am a white queer person from the Mountain West region of the United States. I grew up in a small industrial city that is also the commercial center of an otherwise rural area and is in close proximity to two Indigenous nations’ reservations. I am a US citizen and my most recent ancestor to immigrate to the US was three generations ago. Since that time, that branch of my family has had a presence in my home region, historically working in mining and ranching. Others worked on the railroad or in oil extraction, retail and nursing. My grandmother did not pass on our heritage language, but she spoke it with her mother at least until young adulthood. I am also a first-generation college student, but my father earned an associate degree and some members of my extended family have pursued various degrees of higher education. I first learned about Tu’un Savi languages and Na Savi people as an undergraduate student at Portland State University. The Ñuu Savi diaspora and other Indigenous Mesoamerican groups have a strong presence in Oregon. Well-known communities include Woodburn, as well as Gresham, a suburb of Portland (Stephen 2007). As a linguistics and Chinese double major, I focused my studies on linguistic diversity and language maintenance, mostly in the Portland, Oregon context (Chinuk Wawa, Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde) and the languages of China. A friend of mine and one of my coworkers separately told me that their families spoke an Indigenous language, Mixteco, and encouraged me to consider it in my studies. As part of my exploration of this topic, I came upon the eye-opening work Indigenous Mexican Migrants in the United States (Fox & Rivera-Salgado 2004) and completed a senior honors thesis on Tu’un Savi in Oregon. I came to UCSB eager to work with Eric and study Tu’un Savi on the Central Coast. As a first-year graduate student in linguistics, I sat in on the first field methods course that Eric   48 taught with Griselda Reyes Basurto, focusing on her Tu’un Savi variety of Tlahuapa, Guerrero. I participated in a limited capacity due to my heavy first-year course load but was able to begin gaining familiarity with aspects of Tu’un Savi language structure. Around this time, the MICOP leadership and Eric determined that literacy development and programming would be a fruitful area of collaboration. MICOP is interested in Indigenous language writing because one of its core functions is facilitating language access and disseminating critical information to constituents in their primary languages. Linguistic tools for lexicography and orthography development can be helpful in advancing these goals. The first phase of planning for this project included a series of remote workshops with MICOP community members interested in language work and Tu’un Savi literacy development and representatives from Mexico’s Instituto Nacional para la de Educación de los Adultos (INEA). INEA had developed adult literacy materials in Indigenous languages of Mexico, and MICOP connected with them about the possibility of using their materials with the help of the Instituto de los Mexicanos en el Exterior (IME). Thus, the aim of the workshops was both for INEA to share how to use its materials for teaching Tu’un Savi literacy and for the participating community members to assess how well the materials would work for representing and teaching their own varieties. Griselda and Inî were among the MICOP participants, who represented at least four different varieties of Tu’un Savi. Eric and I, along with a few other graduate students from the field methods class, attended these workshops to observe, learn, and begin developing working relationships. Due to my lack of proficiency in Spanish at that time, my ability to interact with other attendees in Spanish was limited unless my bilingual colleagues assisted me, although some participants spoke to me in English. As a result, I understood very little during the workshops and subsequently enrolled in   49 undergraduate Spanish courses at UCSB, ultimately completing the lower-division two-year sequence.  The language represented in the INEA materials was not a specific variety but a negotiated amalgamation of varieties believed to represent the overly broad Mixteco Bajo group. The MICOP and UCSB attendees later convened orthography development workshops to build a multivariety lexical database and conduct phonemic and tonal analyses for each variety from the ground up. This allowed each participant to decide how to represent the phonemes in their variety for themselves and ensured that the orthography matched the language’s sound system and its contrasts (Bax et al. in press). It was in this context that I met Inî in December of 2015. The following year, the INEA materials were adapted by Inî to his own variety, San Martín Peras Tù’un Sàjvǐ, to use in teaching a community adult first-language-literacy class through MICOP, which I frequently attended.  In the summer of 2016, I began working with a young woman from the Tequio SKILLS class (taught by several of my graduate student colleagues). She spoke the San Martín Peras variety of Tu’un Savi and had just finished high school. I was interested in applying what I had learned in the field methods class and literacy workshops, and I was motivated to analyze the variety’s tone system, which became the topic of my master’s thesis (Peters 2018). In retrospect, I think that the role of consultant grew boring for this young person, teaching me decontextualized words in her language and watching me struggle to determine which sounds they contained. She seemed to enjoy much more working with the few narratives that we recorded, transcribed, and translated. Knowing what I know now, I would have started with more engaging types of language work and encouraged her to guide it according to her own inclinations, intuitions, and interests. Not only does elicitation-based data collection risk   50 being repetitive and dull, but as a novice at the time myself I was not particularly effective or efficient at this sort of work. Elicitation certainly can be incorporated into engaging collaborative language work, but I learned that it was not a starting place that was particularly conducive to community relationship building and collaboration. An interesting research activity was all the more necessary in this context, where my still remedial Spanish proficiency hindered my ability to make monotonous tasks like wordlist elicitation more conversational.  In the meantime, I had been regularly attending the literacy working groups hosted at MICOP once or twice a week, where Inî was also often present. We began working one on one, applying field methods techniques as well as the approach taken in the literacy working group to explore his variety, particularly the tone system. I had not yet learned my lesson about elicitation-focused research collaboration and had a pressing thesis deadline, so it was not until summer 2018 that we began recording and transcribing narratives. We worked together on numerous joint endeavors, often with other team members, including conference presentations, research projects, and journal articles. Our collaboration continues to the present day. Over the course of our work together, I consciously moved toward a model that focused more on the experience of my collaborators and sharing my linguistic training with them than on advancing my own research goals and prioritizing my timeline. Collaboration is an ongoing learning process and, as in any learning process there continue to be things I wish I would have done differently, including in the present project. Learning has a long trajectory and there is always room for improvement. In 2017-18 I participated in another field methods class with Eric and Carmen Hernández Martínez, who speaks the Tu’un Savi variety of San Martín Duraznos. Carmen and I made a   51 lotería game together, hoping to spark children’s interest in the language. Around this same time (spring 2018, 2019) I began co-teaching with the Tequio youth group at MICOP and became more aware of the social dynamics and ideologies of multilingualism in the lives of young people. My experience of learning with students in Tequio informed my interest in and understanding of the issues in this dissertation.  After years of collecting and analyzing data to understand the linguistic structure of Tù’un Sàjvǐ, a time-consuming process that is notoriously slow to produce applied outcomes for community members (e.g., Manatowa-Bailey 2008), I felt impelled to apply the knowledge generated by this work to a dissertation project that could contribute in some small way to community language maintenance goals, which we were working in service of all along. Initially, I conceived of this goal as necessitating a variationist approach. In the end, data collection took a broader discourse-based approach, and the analysis emphasized the linguistic assets and skills of multilingual youth rather than focusing on their differences from older, monolingual speakers. Both veins of inquiry can continue to be pursued using these data, but the dissertation focuses on findings that are quickly applicable in the research and teaching contexts I have been involved in, and build on my years of pedagogical experience as a graduate student instructor. The insights that I describe and explore in this dissertation have been shared with me by several Ñuu Savi community members with whom I have participated in research projects and workshops over the years. Much of my understanding of youth language ideologies I owe to the students who participated in the SKILLS program when I co-taught it at MICOP for two years. The majority of what I have learned about language use and structure comes from the insights shared with me by Inî over many years of close collaboration documenting and analyzing his language data and many   52 conversations about linguistic practices and language acquisition within his community. What I have been able to learn remains a partial understanding, far from complete or certain. All of this is to say that I rely greatly on the expertise and collaboration of my community partners in this research. As part of our exchange of knowledge, I have sought with this dissertation to apply the insights shared with me toward project goals.  2.7 Conclusion In this chapter I have described the ethnographic context that sets the scene for the following chapters, highlighting the diversity of the Tu’un Savi languages, the factors involved in the formation of diaspora communities in California, and the language situation in the local context, as well as my role in the collaborative research I have engaged in with community members. In Chapter 3, the broader context set up here will be populated with community members’ linguistic experiences. There, I draw on quotes from the MILPA community survey as well as data collected for the dissertation, in order to share accounts of multilingual language acquisition, language usage, migration, and education, fleshing out and giving life to the issues central to their community’s language situation in diaspora. I also share more detailed perspectives on ideologies about multilingualism, as well as some of the ways these correlated with language and migration histories. As I demonstrate, the impact of multilingualism and language shift on Tu’un Savi language maintenance has resulted in different perspectives on multilingualism and language use, particularly with respect to youth.      53 CHAPTER 3 Language ideologies of multilingualism in a diasporic Nà Sàjvǐ extended family  The previous chapter (Chapter 2) detailed the language situation in the California Na Savi (Mixtec) diaspora and illustrated the context for the study at the heart of this dissertation. The present chapter begins by discussing previous research on multilingualism. I then draw on a large language survey conducted in the Mexican Indigenous community in Ventura County to examine some of the prominent language ideologies circulating in the local community about multilingual speakers and how speakerhood is conceptualized and assigned. Next, I introduce each of the study participants with an ethnographic profile based on their responses to a family questionnaire that I developed to learn about their language and migration histories; this discussion is also informed by my multi-year working relationship with members of the community. Based on the responses, I link the community language ideologies identified in the community survey data to differences in the individual language and migration histories of the participants in the present study. I analyze the variable responses to one portion of the questionnaire in which members of the same family assign language competence differently to particular members and report different language use patterns. I show that those language users who are early multilinguals are more likely both to recognize others’ language abilities that do not conform to monolingual standards, and also to report drawing upon all of their linguistic resources in communication with others rather than engaging with an interlocutor in a monolingual style, as adults and late bilinguals report doing. The analysis demonstrates the importance of understanding multilingual practices in   54 the Ñuu Savi diaspora in order to center youth perspectives and linguistic decisions, address the community’s language maintenance goals, and advance linguistic and social justice.  3.1 Previous Research on Multilingualism In this section, I provide an overview of previous research on multilingualism that is pertinent to the analysis of the language ideologies addressed in this chapter. First, in §3.1.1 I cover the main ways bilingualism has been conceptualized and address the typologies of bilingualism that have been proposed. Then, in §3.1.2 I consider the category of heritage speakers and go into greater detail about translanguaging approaches to understanding multilingualism. I focus in particular on the space that this concept opens up for nurturing the languaging skills of young heritage speakers.   3.1.1. Types of bilingualism In some of the earliest work on bilingualism, Weinreich (1974[1953]) describes an idealized conceptualization of bilingual language users as possessing two distinct linguistic systems that they never mix. This echoes Bloomfield’s definition of bilingualism as “native-like control of two languages” (1933: 56). In other words, the idealized bilingual is able to perform as a monolingual native speaker in each of their languages. This early understanding makes sense when considering that this research took place in situations of stable diglossia in nation states with multiple official languages (Ferguson 1959), or in ethnoreligious communities (e.g., Yiddish in Europe and the US, Weinreich 1974[1953]; Birzer & Nath 2010). While Weinreich (1974[1953]: 73) recognized that the “ideal bilingual” was not   55 always achieved and that this had social ramifications for speakers, the concept lived on as a model for understanding and researching bilingualism and bilingual performance. Subsequent work has acknowledged that it is exceedingly rare for bilinguals to perform identically to monolingual speakers in each of their languages, for cognitive, linguistic, and social reasons (e.g., Grosjean 1989). The traditional ideal bilingual as two monolinguals in one person has given way to the understanding that bilinguals—or, more generally, multilinguals—are fundamentally different from monolinguals both in how they acquire their languages and with regard to the social contexts in which they deploy them (Romaine 1995). Researchers then began focusing on differences in these factors that distinguish bilinguals from one another. For example, the term bilingual encompasses both those who experienced monolingual language development but later acquired an additional language in adolescence or adulthood (late bilinguals) and those who developed bilingualism in infancy or early childhood (early bilinguals), as well as varying ability in a range of linguistic proficiencies. The typology of bilingualism summarized by Valdés and Figueroa (1994) includes several categories that characterize individuals across such dimensions as age of acquisition (simultaneous or sequential early bilingual, late bilingual), functional ability (incipient, receptive, and productive proficiency), the relationship between the bilingual’s two languages (ambilingual, balanced bilingual), whether an individual is in a stage of language acquisition or attrition (ascendant or recessive), and whether the acquisition of more than one language is by choice or by circumstance. Additional dimensions include the context of acquisition (whether the languages are acquired in different cultural contexts or the same) and the nature of the language systems (whether they are separate or merged), which come together in the distinction between coordinate and compound bilingualism.  This typology is   56 helpful for describing some of the distinguishing characteristics among multilinguals in the Ñuu Savi diaspora community. The axes most relevant to my discussion of multilingualism in the Ñuu Savi diaspora context are age of acquisition, context of acquisition, and structure of the language system(s). Thus, to describe different aspects of people’s language profiles, I employ the following labels: simultaneous early, sequential early, or late multilingual, as well as coordinate or compound multilingual.  Among the study participants described below, late bilinguals tend to display coordinate bilingual practices by keeping their languages separate to the extent possible (i.e., monolingual performance). This is because they acquired their languages in different settings and cultural contexts after migrating to the US as monolingual adolescents or young adults. Their need to survive in a new country may have led them to acquire Spanish and sometimes English as additional languages, but they continue to perform linguistically in Tù’un Sàjvǐ more or less as monolinguals. Early bilinguals, on the other hand, more often display compound bilingual practices, with their language systems merged to some degree. The early compound bilinguals I describe here may not have acquired both of their languages fully in the same context, in accordance with Valdés and Figueroa’s typology, as they tend to have been born in the US but moved to Oaxaca to live with grandparents in their early years before returning to live with their parents in the US as children. Still, they have at least experienced both languages in the same context from a young age once moving back to the US and living in a home setting with older siblings who tended to speak more Spanish with them. As a result, they may have even started shifting to their L2 before adolescence.  3.1.2. Translanguaging and heritage speakers   57 Recent decades of research on multilingualism from education, interactional sociolinguistics, and linguistic anthropology have demonstrated that early, compound bilinguals simply language differently from monolinguals and coordinate bilinguals (García & Leiva 2014). Translanguaging approaches frame multilinguals’ linguistic resources as integrated communicative systems from which they deploy linguistic forms strategically for communicative goals and meaning-making effect (Zentella 1998; Gumperz & Cook-Gumperz 2005; García & Li 2015). Translanguaging perspectives do not always view the languages of such speakers as cognitively discrete entities; rather, the distinctions between the languages are social. It is the context, setting, and audience, for example, that indicate which speech forms are called for, and the multilingual person is sensitive to the context when drawing from their full range of linguistic and communicative resources. This approach forces a rethinking of what is normative in bilingual practice, which is particularly important in the case of heritage languages. Above all, translanguaging is a social and political perspective on language practice intended to support the linguistic, educational, social, and emotional development of multilingual students in the context of bilingual education and language policy. It offers an alternative to the cognitive and structural perspectives around which schooling has built monoglossic performance standards. These standards neither reflect nor support the ways in which many multilingual students actually use language, and can result in poor assessment and lacking student support.   MacSwan (2022, 2017) argues against the deconstructivist turn in translanguaging discourse, which theorizes against the existence of named languages and even multilingualism. While supportive of the pedagogical goals of translanguaging (MacSwan 2022), he takes issue with the cognitive and empirical implications that deconstructivism has   58 for studying such phenomena as code-switching. He strikes a balance between the dual but discrete model and the unitary model of multilingualism with his “integrated multilingual model” in which multilinguals have both shared and discrete grammatical resources. By also acknowledging an integrated linguistic repertoire apart from the multifaceted mental grammar, he takes a “multilingual perspective on translanguaging” (MacSwan 2017).  The field of heritage language research and pedagogy is commendable for centering in its enterprise the applied work of teaching (early) bilinguals and seeking to develop their language skills. Unfortunately, the majority of the empirical work pursued under the mantle of heritage language research continues the model of the ideal bilingual, reifying ideologies of language purism and a monolingual standard. Heritage language speakers have been defined as “child and adult members of a linguistic minority who grow up exposed to their home language – the heritage language – and the majority official language spoken and used in the broader speech community” (Montrul 2016). However, no definition of this group is fully agreed upon, which in turn leads to educational issues (Leeman 2015).  I define heritage speakers as those who acquired one or more languages from a young age and predominantly use the dominant language of society rather than the home or heritage language, which they use in a more constrained set of domains. As a result, heritage language users differ from adult or monolingual speakers of the language in their competencies (such as registers, genres, literacy), grammatical patterns, and linguistic practices. Heritage language learners, on the other hand, are individuals working to learn a community language that they may or may not have acquired as children and do not currently speak, although they may understand it (receptive bilingual. Heritage language learners can include receptive bilinguals who wish to speak their language, as well as those who did not acquire the   59 language as children but feel a cultural or community connection to it and may experience it around them in their social lives. One of the greatest weaknesses of most current paradigms of heritage language research is that they are not able to incorporate translanguaging perspectives. Heritage language research overwhelmingly emphasizes language attrition in the L1 and compares heritage speakers to monolingual native speakers as a baseline (e.g., Polinsky, 2006, 2018; Montrul 2008, 2010, 2016). The findings of this work are then placed in generativist models and used to make claims about the structure of the supposedly innate universal language faculty (e.g., Benmamoun et al. 2013). Importantly, heritage speakers and multilinguals are and should be recognized as native speakers of their home languages (Rothman & Treffers-Daller 2014), a fact often overlooked when multilingual speakers are held to the languaging practices of those who experienced monolingual language development. Such an approach ignores the fact that monolinguals and multilinguals use language in fundamentally different ways (e.g García & Leiva 2014; Gumperz & Cook-Gumperz 2005). Lavandera (1978) offers a criticism of the approach taken in heritage language research, in which speakers are expected to live up to a monolingual ideal. Lavandera points out that individuals who regularly use two languages are fundamentally different from those who carry out their communicative needs in a single language. She notes that for the former, their languages likely form a unitary whole. Thus, when their linguistic ability is evaluated in a single language, it will appear to be less rich, the main qualm she raises with language testing (1978: 391; cited in Valdés & Figueroa 1994:5-6).  Moreover, it is important to highlight that some heritage language researchers vociferously argue against “incompleteness” discourses in their field. Pascual y Cabo and   60 Rothman (2012) refute the tendency in their field to compare heritage speakers to monolinguals and label differences between the groups as markers of incompleteness on the part of heritage speakers. They maintain that heritage speakers’ competence in the heritage language is complete as an internally coherent system. Its differences to a monolingual speaker’s grammar reflect distinct realities of language acquisition, development, use, and education. Similarly, Bayram et al. (2019) argue for the coherence of heritage language grammars and frame differences to monolinguals as instances of grammatical reanalysis rather than incompleteness. Embracing the heterogeneity of heritage language practices via a translanguaging lens may have a positive impact on speakers, as heritage language speakers have been shown to internalize monolingualist discourses that delegitimize their language proficiencies and practices (Bayram et al. 2021).  The aforementioned researchers notwithstanding, the way that most heritage language researchers think about multilingualism and the goal that they have for multilinguals –to be able to perform in a native monolingual style – are based on an idealized understanding of multilingual competence that is not supported by current empirical research. Still, the enterprise of heritage language research and pedagogy deserves credit for building infrastructure and programs that create opportunities for multilinguals to continue learning and developing their home languages, including with additional registers and literacy skills. These programs have recognized the different needs of heritage learners who are native speakers and have acquired the language in their home and family domains, compared to L2 learners who are acquiring the language for the first time. However, such programs aim largely to support heritage speakers in acquiring a form of linguistic competence based on the performance of native monolingual speakers, typically those who speak a prestige variety of   61 the language, have a high level of education and socioeconomic status, and have nonracialized ethnic identities. As translanguaging scholarship shows, bilinguals are not, as originally described by Bloomfield and Weinreich, “ideal” only when they perform in each of their languages as a monolingual speaker of that language would – that is, when they do not mix languages. Code-switching, code-mixing, and translanguaging practices fill a host of communicative functions and are cornerstones of multilingual performance. Thus, taking monolinguals as a baseline from which to compare heritage languaging practices ignores the way that speakers actually use language. I examine this monolingual ideology and its effects in the following discussion of ideologies of multilingualism in the Ñuu Savi diaspora.    3.2 Ideologies of multilingualism in the California Ñuu Savi diaspora In this section, I introduce some of the ideologies about monolingualism and multilingualism, speakerhood, and youth language that emerged from my previous work with the topic in this community. Language use and attitudes were among the topics that the research team and I investigated through the community language survey discussed in Chapter 2. My discussion of some of the ideologies below is based not only on data from the survey, including open-ended responses, but also on my ethnographic participation and conversations with collaborators over the years of my work with the community. Whereas the large-scale community survey was completely anonymous, my goal in this chapter is to connect ideologies to individuals in their familial relational networks. I introduce findings from the survey here to identify some of the salient community language ideologies and to contextualize the family language questionnaire that I later designed and administered. Based   62 on responses to the family language questionnaire, I then present the linguistic profiles of participants and the relationship between individuals’ ideologies and their positionalities.  The community language survey (Chapter 2) revealed a widespread age-based language ideology that maps Spanish and English onto youth and Tu’un Savi onto elders. Respondents were asked a series of questions about the language use and proficiency for each generation in the community: older people, working adults, youth (teenagers and young adults), and children. The questions included which languages the majority of each generation speaks or understands, how well they speak each language, how and when they learned each language, and the overall impact or benefit that each language has on the lives of speakers. Respondents were also asked if their perceptions differed for youth born in the US versus those born in Mexico. Many young people in the community arrived to the US relatively recently and may speak little to no Spanish. Moreover, multilingualism and language shift have been occurring for several decades in some communities of origin, resulting in some middle-aged adults being monolingual Spanish speakers. These facts notwithstanding, the ideological association of who speaks which language(s) overwhelmingly positions older people as Tu’un Savi speakers (and not speakers of Spanish or English) and younger people as non-speakers of Tu’un Savi. This ideology constructs an inverse relationship between English and Tu’un Savi proficiency, such that the more English one speaks the worse their Tu’un Savi is. When young people do speak Tu’un Savi, then, it is perceived as different and deficient. This process results in a type of ideological languagelessness (Rosa 2016), under which multilingual youth are viewed as not speaking any of the three languages well and only speaking each language incompletely. This ideology renders the Tu’un Savi of multilingual youth differentiated and other (Bax 2020).    63 The ideology of youth languagelessness is demonstrated by the following quotes from the community survey responses describing young people’s Tu’un Savi, how it changes upon their acquisition of English, and its distinctness from the speech of those who spent more of their childhood in Mexico. (All ethnic labels are based on respondents’ self-identification.)  Cuando empiezan [los jóvenes] hablar el inglés, um- hasta el tono del mixteco cambia entonces no lo hablan con fluidez. (42-year-old Mixteca woman)  ‘When the youth start speaking English the tone of their Mixtec changes and they don’t speak it fluently’.    Lo pueden entender pero ya ya no lo pueden hablar o sí lo van a hablar pero ya no es como el mixteco de nosotros, se va a escuchar diferente. (24-year-old Mixteco man)  ‘They can understand but they can’t speak it, or they do speak it but it isn’t like our Mixtec, it sounds different’.  The quotes from these two survey respondents representing different age groups and genders reveal ideological positions toward youth language proficiencies. The lack of specificity relating to “el tono del mixteco,” how ‘it sounds different’, and evaluations of fluency underscore the ideological nature of these assessments. Other survey responses not included here describe youth Tu’un Savi with adjectives like raro ‘strange’ or state that “no lo pronuncian bien” ‘they don’t pronounce it well’. In a conversation I had with a research consultant about the topic of community youth linguistic repertoires and language proficiency, the consultant said that those who do not speak Tu’un Savi well “sound like how Triquis talk,” likening their “different-sounding” speech to a neighboring Indigenous group in Oaxaca which is linguistically related to but not mutually intelligible with Tu’un Savi (Personal meeting notes, 15 November 2021). This widespread generalized differentiation of   64 Na Savi youth may not only discourage young people from speaking their language (e.g., Abtahian & Quinn 2017), but it also obscures the precise linguistic nature of these differences, be they in the phonology, tonal morphology, lexicon, or syntax, and whether these cause others difficulty in comprehension or are simply stylistic preferences. Lack of clarity on these issues may also result in youth being left without guidance on how to accommodate monolingual Tu’un Savi speakers and approximate the community-authorized forms and styles of adults.  Another set of language ideologies expressed in the community survey responses focused on youth multilingualism. Respondents were asked about their awareness of and attitude toward code-switching and mixing practices. Multilingual youth were generally (self-)identified as those who engage in these sorts of linguistic practices, and respondents expressed a range of opinions about them. Some were positive or neutral, taking practical communicative considerations into account, valuing social interaction and engagement while placing less emphasis on whether communication takes place in a single code. For these individuals, using whatever linguistic resources one has available in order to accommodate interlocutors and facilitate communication takes precedence over monolingual ideologies of linguistic purity and correctness, embracing a translanguaging ideology. These attitudes are expressed in the following quotes from two women in their 40s who both reported speaking mostly Spanish as children and indicated that they do not speak Tu’un Savi but can understand it. (Parentheses indicate uncertain transcription.)  No es bueno ni es malo, pos yo digo. Mientras (le den a) entender no importa como- como lo digan, yo digo (verdad). (42-year-old Oaxaqueña woman)  ‘It’s neither good nor bad. In my opinion, as long as they make themselves understood, it doesn’t matter how- how they say it’.   65    Muy bueno, porque se ayudan a desenvolverse más y saben más.  (42-year-old Mixteca woman)   ‘It’s very good, because it helps them to engage more and know more’.  Other respondents perceive code-switching negatively, expressing the ideology of languagelessness. Here, multilinguals are viewed as not competent enough in a single language to speak it without incorporating elements from their other language(s). One respondent even attributes language loss partly to the practice of code-switching among multilinguals.  Malo ... porque no se enfocar en uno, en una idioma ... ni aprendemos el inglés o español completamente. (30-year-old Mixteco man)  ‘Bad ... because one can’t focus on one, on one language ... we’re neither learning English or Spanish completely’. (Translated by Bethany Guerrero)    Pues al menos no me parece bueno porque así no ellos al final no aprende, están perdiendo nuestros, nuestra lengua de nosotros entonces ... preferible que hablen puro español o puro inglés en los lugares donde se necesitan pues como en la escuela.  (35-year-old Mixteca woman)  ‘Well at least it doesn’t seem good to me because in the end, like this they don’t learn, they’re losing our language of ours so ... it’s preferable that they speak pure Spanish or pure English in places where it’s needed like in school’.  (Translated by Bethany Guerrero)  The response of one younger interviewee contests such deficit perspectives, claiming instead that the practice of code-switching helps speakers to practice all of their languages more and therefore not forget any of them. Her perspective implies that if a bilingual speaks a single language at a time, they will inevitably use one of their languages more and the   66 other(s) less, eventually forgetting the latter. According to this ideology, code-switching is a powerful tool for language maintenance, contrary to the popular belief that it is a sign of incomplete acquisition and leads to community-wide language loss.  Pues [es] bueno porque así ya no se nos olvida ni un idioma ni el otro.  (20-year-old Mixteca woman)  ‘Well [it’s] good because this way we don’t forget either language.’  Another prominent ideology holds that both Spanish and English are important in the US because they are necessary to get ahead socioeconomically. This echoes the same sentiment among early immigrants in the US described by Wagner (1981) in his history of language policy in the United States. Ideas about language and social class draw from and mediate the aforementioned ideologies about which groups speak which languages and which languages are suitable for specific purposes. Spanish and English are viewed as the languages of education and socioeconomic advancement, while Tu’un Savi is associated with agricultural work, which is hard physical labor. It should be noted, however, that Tu’un Savi and other Indigenous languages have an increasing presence in other domains in the California Central Coast region as well. This is due in part to the far-reaching and impactful work of the non-profit Mixteco/Indígena Community Organizing Project (MICOP), as well as community attendance at local churches, and local government and school district efforts to increase interpretation services and better include Tu’un Savi-speaking parents in school business, events, and their children’s education.  Based on my ethnographic understanding, language proficiencies and field of employment are more directly connected than age, such that younger people who speak Tu’un Savi are expected to find work in the agricultural fields, while older people who speak   67 Spanish are perceived as having broader employment options, for example clerical and administrative work, service industry positions, and other non-manual forms of labor. Young people, then, are encouraged in the acquisition and use of languages that enable them to pursue education and career opportunities that are less physically demanding and perhaps more stable and lucrative, although the per-unit pay structure of work in the fields means that particularly fast workers can earn high incomes over short periods. Due to the size of the Ñuu Savi community in the California Central Coast and established history in the area, the large presence of children, youth, and young adults with these stratified language proficiencies both grow from and also reinforce ideologies about age and linguistic repertoire even though there are frequently exceptions to the rule. As language shift drives forward rapidly in this diasporic community, the linguistic abilities of multilingual youth who did not experience monolingual language development in Tu’un Savi are neither recognized nor drawn upon as resources for reversing language shift and supporting language maintenance. Thus, they may have fewer opportunities to use their native language, maintain it for themselves and in their social networks, and develop their language further (e.g., Abtahian & Quinn 2017). In most families, birth order is an important determinant of a child’s language repertoire. The older children speak the most Tu’un Savi and have the responsibility of language brokering (López 2020; Orellana & Guan 2015) for their parents who may not speak Spanish. The younger children are progressively less likely to learn Tu’un Savi because it is considered either not helpful or even harmful to their educational and socioeconomic advancement. Because the older children bear the responsibility of language brokering, there is little pressure on the younger children to acquire and maintain Tu’un Savi. This can lead to a breakdown of communication between   68 generations (Wong-Fillmore 1996) and means the younger children are missing out on the cognitive and social benefits of an additional language. Were multilingual language practices and translanguaging accepted, even appreciated and endorsed, everyone in the community could have access to and develop all of the available languages (García & Li 2015), along with a multilingual identity (Bateman 2016). The youngest child in the family, who may be dominant in Spanish and English, would be able to communicate with their parents and other adults who are dominant in Tu’un Savi, and thereby facilitate intergenerational communication and maintain linguistic and cultural practices and identity in the US.   The survey also asked whether and why it is important to the respondent to speak Tu’un Savi. Those in their teens and early twenties in particular reported that Tu’un Savi is important for connecting with culture and family and for preserving their identities and traditions. Often they emphasized that the language enables them as multilinguals to aid monolingual Tu’un Savi speakers who encounter language access barriers, such as in the quote shown here.   Por que es que, como hay gente que llega de- de México y luego que no … no sabe de este– como pasa a mi pues– y no sabe de este español y luego que tenemos que ayudar a la gente también pues. (41-year-old Mixteca woman)  ‘Because there are people who come from Mexico and then don’t know– like what happened to me– don’t know Spanish, so then [once we know Spanish as well as Tu’un Savi] we should help the people too’.  This sentiment matches what I heard from multilingual youth in my personal experience as well. Some of the youth I spoke with saw professional work as an interpreter, a growing and highly visible career path, as a lucrative application of their language skills that allowed them to position Tu’un Savi as an economically advantageous language, along with Spanish   69 and English. This viewpoint adds instrumental motivation to the learning or maintenance of the home language, in addition to the so-called integrative motivations (Gardner & Lambert, 1972) expressed by survey respondents who located the importance of Tu’un Savi in culture, community, and identity (cf. Zhang, 2010).  The preceding discussion has demonstrated that in the previously collected community survey data, negative language ideologies are often held regarding the languaging practices of young bilinguals. The family language questionnaire in the present study, which I turn to next, sheds additional light not only on who is targeted by such language ideologies but also on how ideologies vary across family members. Language ideologies are often discussed in terms of macro or community-level social categories. At best, differing language ideologies are associated with subgroups based on age, gender, or community of practice. In the present study, however, questionnaire responses reveal that ideological positionings with respect to multilingualism and speakerhood vary based on particular experiences of language and migration histories. These two factors are associated both with one another and, in these data, with age cohort. The analysis in this chapter therefore demonstrates that language and migration history may be more relevant than age. However, studies rarely include individuals who first migrated as young adults or adults.   3.3 Methods The data analyzed in the following sections come from a bilingual (Spanish-English) three-part written questionnaire that asked participants about the following issues: 1) their language background (the languages spoken by the respondent and their family members, their educational background, languages used in school, migration history, family language   70 dynamics); 2) communicative contexts and modalities in which the respondent is likely to use Tù’un Sàjvǐ; and 3) a self-assessment of the ease or difficulty with which the respondent performs certain communicative tasks in Tù’un Sàjvǐ. These data are supplemented by ethnographic observations and notes from conversations with several research participants and consultants.  Participants were recruited for pilot study data collection in the summer of 2020. The COVID-19 pandemic was in full swing, having shut down my university’s in-person operations in March of the same year, and uncertainty prevailed around the virus, its transmission, personal safety, and the duration of the pandemic. Because of this, participants were recruited based principally on safety (i.e., what some may refer to as “convenience sampling”). A research consultant interviewed family members with whom they were in a “quarantine bubble.” Although this was originally conceived of as pilot data collection, due to multiple considerations – maintaining safety amidst the ongoing pandemic, the ethics in working with individuals from a high-risk community under such circumstances, and my own program time constraints – data collection was limited to this set of participants. A research consultant also conducted follow-up interviews with participants; these interviews included open-ended questions about their experiences with learning each of their languages.  Although this research design was originally for practical reasons, the study’s focus on a single extended family had benefits for the study by giving me different perspectives on the language use of the same individuals, all of whom were well known to one another.   As it turned out, completing the questionnaire was time-consuming (30 to 45 minutes) and may have led to some fatigue. This issue had two sources: first, the inclusion of complex questions about migration history and relationships with individual family members, and   71 second, the participants’ varying levels of and experiences with literacy. In some cases, the administrator of the questionnaire assisted the participants in completing it by explaining the questions and helping them to fill out the answers. If I had had the opportunity to collect additional data, I would have revised the questionnaire to eliminate redundant questions and those that turned out not to yield useful information, such as questions about the linguistic practices of siblings of participants in the parent generation. Instead, it would have been more useful to know which languages respondents in this generation consider their children to speak and which languages they use to communicate with them, topics that were not included in the questionnaire. Similarly, some groups of community members are not represented among the study participants. The youngest children in this family, who did not participate due to their young age, have a migration, educational, and language history as well as a current language repertoire that is different from those of other family members, as they were born and raised entirely in the US. Their absence is a shortcoming that can be remedied with future data collection. Additionally, recent immigrants, monolingual and otherwise, are not represented among the respondents. Their experiences, family network structures and dynamics, ideologies of speakerhood, and perspectives on language maintenance are a missing piece to understanding the range of linguistic experiences within the broader community. While this dissertation focuses on the importance of including multilingual youth in linguistic research, it is worthwhile for reasons of quality and equity to consider how to overcome the barriers hindering recent monolingual migrants from participating in research work. As Valdés and Figueroa point out, researchers’ characterizations of the language profiles of bilinguals necessarily involves a degree of simplification for two reasons: first, language   72 use is multidimensional, and second, the factors involved in comparing bilinguals are numerous and complex (1994: 10).  Rather than placing individuals into simplified prefabricated categories based on their age or current dominant language, the questionnaire I used in the present study enables a rich description of participants’ language backgrounds, repertoires, and beliefs about their own and others’ language proficiency and use, as well as several social factors. The groups that emerge from these profiles are described in the following section.   3.4 A multilingual Nà Sàjvǐ family network in California The participants in the family language questionnaire were Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers who have lived a large portion of their lives in California. Participants came from two different towns within the municipality of San Martín Peras in Oaxaca: Kàjvǎ Ntsiáá (Piedra Azul) and Namà (Paredón). As discussed in Chapter 2, the speech variety associated with each town differs to a small degree and they are mutually intelligible. Despite living in diaspora, the participants maintain their linguistic and cultural practices and connections to their hometowns and families in Mexico. Though the participants’ experiences may differ from those of their extended family network, their individual multilingual experiences and language practices are informed by the backdrop of their family context, which has long been recognized as an important nexus of language shift and maintenance, immigration experiences, and language variation (King et al. 2008).  The questionnaire responses that form the basis for the following profiles were collected in September 2020. The profiles below reflect the responses given at that time, including ages. All of the participants can be considered multilingual, but a distinction must be made   73 based on their context of acquisition to account for their instrumental versus integrative motivations for using each language and the implications that follow. The adult generation reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ and understanding, but not speaking, Spanish. The youth reports of their parents’ language proficiency vary. Some report that Spanish is a second language for their parents, while others do not.  Figure 3.1 shows the kinship relationships among participants. The parent generation consists of a couple, Ntsìvá’yi and Itâ Tsìndoo, and Itâ Tsìndoo’s brother, Yìvì Tsióó. Four of the couple’s children participated, as did two of their cousins, Kaneki and Tsǐnâ Yaa, whose parents did not participate. All participants selected their own pseudonyms in order to protect the anonymity of the entire family.   Figure 3. Kinship diagram showing relations among participants.   3.4.1 Ntsìvá’yi Ntsìvá’yi is a 44-year-old man who works in the agricultural fields near Santa Maria, California. He is the husband of Itâ Tsìndoo and the father of Tùtsiayì, Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ,   74 Tsìkiva, Ntsi’ì, and two younger children who did not participate in this research. He was born in the town of Piedra Azul in the municipality of San Martín Peras, where he attended formal schooling through the third grade. His first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which was also used by his teachers and classmates throughout his schooling. He is the fifth of seven children, all of whom are monolingual Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers. Unlike the current youth generation, he did not move around at all during his childhood and stayed in Piedra Azul until he began migrating along the Ruta Mixteca (Chapter 2) at the age of 17. He worked temporarily in several places along the Ruta, moving back and forth between them and his home until he eventually came to California. In California, he moved along the Ruta briefly before settling in Ventura County; he only recently relocated to Santa Maria, California.  He reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ as his first language and understanding but not speaking Spanish. In his home, both Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish are spoken. He speaks Tù’un Sàjvǐ, watches videos on social media in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, and listens to music with Tù’un Sàjvǐ lyrics on a daily basis. However, he does not send or receive text messages in written Tù’un Sàjvǐ, read social media written in the language, or listen to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio; these are Spanish-language domains for him. He does send and receive Tù’un Sàjvǐ voice messages occasionally. At work he uses both Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish.  His children report that his first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ. Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ reports that Spanish is his second language, while Ntsi’ì does not.   3.4.2 Itâ Tsìndoo   75 Itâ Tsìndoo is a 41-year-old woman who, like her husband Ntsìvá’yi, works in the agricultural fields near Santa Maria, California. She is the eldest sister of Yìvì Tsióó and is the mother of Tùtsiayì, Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ, Tsìkiva, Ntsi’ì, and two younger children who did not participate in this research. She was born in the town of Paredón in the municipality of San Martín Peras, where she attended formal schooling through the second grade. Her first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which was also the language used by her teachers and classmates throughout her schooling. She moved back and forth between her hometown and a city along the Ruta Mixteca where her grandmother lived until the age of 15. Further details of her migration history are unclear because she did not respond to the entirety of the questionnaire, but she eventually married Ntsìvá’yi and moved to his hometown, Piedra Azul, which is also in the municipality of San Martín Peras. Eventually the two moved to the US together.  Itâ Tsìndoo reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ and understanding but not speaking Spanish. She further reports that both her and her husband’s varieties are spoken in their home, along with Spanish and English.  Her children report that her first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ. Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ reports that Spanish is her second language, while Ntsi’ì does not.   3.4.3 Yìvì Tsióó Yìvì Tsióó is a 36-year-old man who works in the agricultural fields near Santa Maria, California. He is the younger brother of Itâ Tsìndoo. Neither his spouse nor his children participated in this research. He was born in the town of Paredón in the municipality of San Martín Peras. He attended formal schooling in Paredón and in another city along the Ruta Mixteca through the fifth grade. Tù’un Sàjvǐ is his first language, and in Paredón his teachers   76 and classmates all spoke Tù’un Sàjvǐ. In the city, he reports that his teachers spoke Spanish but that he spoke Tù’un Sàjvǐ with his classmates. It is unclear whether he began learning Spanish at this time; it is possible that while in school he only interacted with other Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers. He only stayed in the city for six months before returning to his hometown.  Aside from this brief stint outside of the Mixteca when he was nine years old, Yìvì Tsióó didn’t begin migrating until he was 16. From this time onward, he moved between Ventura County and his hometown, staying for progressively longer periods of time in each place; he recently moved to Santa Maria, California.  He is the third of seven children, all of whom he identifies as monolingual Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers. He reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ as his first language and understanding but not speaking Spanish. In his home, he reports that both Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish are spoken.  He reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ and listening to music with Tù’un Sàjvǐ lyrics on a daily basis. He writes and receives text messages in the language and reads Tù’un Sàjvǐ on social media occasionally. He also occasionally sends and receives voice messages in Tù’un Sàjvǐ and watches videos online in the language. He does not listen to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio. He uses predominantly Tù’un Sàjvǐ in most domains of his life, only incorporating some Spanish when he texts and writes online.   3.4.4 Tùtsiayì Tùtsiayì is a 24-year-old man pursuing an advanced degree. He previously worked in the agricultural industry in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties and held a number of staff, outreach, research, and interpreter positions in a community non-profit organization and a public university. He is the eldest son of Itâ Tsìndoo and Ntsìvá’yi. He was born in Piedra   77 Azul, San Martín Peras and moved between his parents’ hometowns as a child before eventually embarking on the Ruta Mixteca. When he arrived in California at the age of 16 he began learning Spanish and English for the first time. He did not complete his questionnaire, so more details are not provided here.  3.4.5 Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ is a 22-year-old man who works in the agricultural fields near Santa Maria, California and is attending his third year of college. He is the second eldest son of Itâ Tsìndoo and Ntsìvá’yi and is the younger brother of Tùtsiayì. He was born in Piedra Azul but migrated between his hometown and two towns in California during the first two years of his life. He then lived in Piedra Azul until he was 12, at which time he moved to Ventura County, where he lived for many years until resettling in Santa Maria, California.  His first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which he continues to speak along with Spanish and English. He attended school both in Piedra Azul and in California. In Mexico, teachers spoke in Spanish but he spoke Tù’un Sàjvǐ with his classmates. In California, teachers spoke in English, while he used Spanish and English with his classmates.  Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ is the second of six children. He reports that his older brother, Tùtsiayì (24), and his sister, Tsìkiva (21), speak Tù’un Sàjvǐ as their first language and English and Spanish as their second languages, and that he uses only Tù’un Sàjvǐ with them. While Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ identifies his younger brother, Ntsi’ì (16), as having the same language repertoire as their older siblings, he reports using only English with Ntsi’ì. The two youngest brothers are reported by their siblings to speak English as a first language and Spanish as a second language, but Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ’s siblings also report that he uses only English with them.   78 Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ every day, but never writing or receiving text messages written in the language. He rarely sends or receives voice messages or reads social media posts in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, and he rarely listens to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio or to music with Tù’un Sàjvǐ lyrics. He does, however, watch online videos in the language on a near-daily basis. Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ reports using Tù’un Sàjvǐ in almost all domains of his life but only using English and Spanish at work and for texting and social media, even with Nà Sàjvǐ friends.  3.4.6 Tsìkiva Tsìkiva is a 21-year-old woman who has worked in the agricultural fields but currently works in an office. She is the daughter of Itâ Tsìndoo and Ntsìvá’yi and is the younger sister of Tùtsiayì and Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ. She and her partner, who is from another community in the municipality of San Martín Peras, had a child after data collection was complete; she told me that they speak exclusively to their child in Tù’un Sàjvǐ and only speak Tù’un Sàjvǐ in the home. She was born in the state of Sinaloa, Mexico, on the Ruta Mixteca and then moved between the hometowns of her parents until the age of 15. She attended elementary and middle school in the municipality of San Martín Peras and eventually moved to Ventura County, California, where she completed high school. After relocating to Santa Barbara County a few years ago, she attended community college classes. During her schooling in San Martín Peras, her teachers and classmates all spoke Tù’un Sàjvǐ. In the US, her teachers spoke Spanish, and she used both Spanish and Tù’un Sàjvǐ with her classmates.  Tsìkiva’s first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ. She also speaks Spanish and understands but does not speak English. She reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ every day. On a near-daily basis, she   79 sends and receives voice messages in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, listens to music with Tù’un Sàjvǐ lyrics, and reads Tù’un Sàjvǐ posts on social media. She occasionally watches online videos in Tù’un Sàjvǐ and listens to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio. Only rarely does she write and receive text messages written in the language. She reports using Tù’un Sàjvǐ in all domains of her life, including at work; she also incorporates Spanish into her speech both at work and with relatives.  She did not complete the portion of the questionnaire asking about her siblings’ languages.  3.4.7 Ntsi’ì Ntsi’ì is a 16-year-old male who works in the agricultural fields and attends high school near Santa Maria, California. He is in the tenth grade. He is the son of Itâ Tsìndoo and Ntsìvá’yi and the younger brother of Tùtsiayì, Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ, and Tsìkiva. His first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which he speaks in addition to English and Spanish. He reports that all three languages are used in the home. He was born in Ventura County and moved between his hometown and his parents’ hometowns until the age of six, after which time he settled with his parents in Ventura before moving to Santa Maria a few years ago. He attended some elementary school in San Martín Peras but has otherwise attended elementary, middle, and high school in California. He reports that teachers used Tù’un Sàjvǐ in San Martín Peras and Spanish and English in the US. His response regarding his classmates’ language use is not clear.  Ntsi’ì is the fourth of six children. He reports that his three older siblings all speak Tù’un Sàjvǐ as their first language. He indicates that the oldest boys also have Spanish and English   80 as additional languages, but he reports that his sister only has Spanish as an additional language. This accords with Tsìkiva’s own assessment of herself as a non-English speaker, although she indicates she can understand English to a degree. This is not in line with Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ’s response that Tsìkiva has English as an additional language as well as Spanish. Ntsi’ì reports using all three languages with his older brothers and both Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish with his sister. This again is different from Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ’s report that he uses only English with Ntsi’ì. For the two youngest brothers, who did not participate in the study, Ntsi’ì indicates that their first languages are Spanish and English. Unlike Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ, he also indicates that they have Tù’un Sàjvǐ as an additional language. It may be that they have receptive comprehension of Tù’un Sàjvǐ or only use it with Tù’un Sàjvǐ-monolingual relatives, because Ntsi’ì indicates that he uses only English and Spanish with these siblings.  Ntsi’ì reports that he rarely uses Tù’un Sàjvǐ to communicate, reads posts on social media, or watches online videos in the language. He never texts or sends voice messages in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, listens to music with Tù’un Sàjvǐ lyrics, or listens to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio. He reports using predominantly Tù’un Sàjvǐ and some Spanish when speaking with his parents. He reports using Tù’un Sàjvǐ half of the time and Spanish or English the other half of the time in other contexts such as work and interacting with family and friends in person and via technology. Whereas all of the previous respondents indicated in the self-assessment that they could perform 12 different communicative tasks in Tù’un Sàjvǐ “quite easily,” save for a few of the highest order, Ntsi’ì rated himself as being able to do all of the tasks “with some difficulty.”   3.4.8 Kaneki   81 Kaneki is a 16-year-old male and attends high school near Santa Maria, California, where he is in the eleventh grade. His first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which he continues to speak in addition to English and Spanish. He indicates that Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish are both used in his home. He was born in Ventura County and lived in Paredón with his grandparents until the age of 10. At that time, he moved to Santa Barbara County, where he continues to reside. He did some of his elementary school in Paredón, where he reports that his teachers and classmates all used Tù’un Sàjvǐ. The rest of his schooling has been in California, where he reports that his teachers and classmates use English and Spanish.  Kaneki is the eldest of four children. He reports using only Tù’un Sàjvǐ to communicate with his Tù’un Sàjvǐ-monolingual brother (13). His sister (11) has Tù’un Sàjvǐ as her first language, but her primary language is Spanish and she speaks English as well. With her, he uses Spanish. His youngest brother (5) only speaks Spanish, and Kaneki reports using only Spanish with him.  Kaneki reports speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ almost every day and occasionally using it to send and receive voice messages. He rarely writes or receives text messages written in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, watches online videos in the language, or listens to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio, but he does occasionally listen to music with Tù’un Sàjvǐ lyrics. He never reads social media posts written in Tù’un Sàjvǐ. He reports using Tù’un Sàjvǐ in many domains, such as with his family members and at work. With Nà Sàjvǐ friends he uses Tù’un Sàjvǐ and some English and Spanish to communicate both in person and via technology. His self-assessment of his ability to carry out communicative tasks in Tù’un Sàjvǐ contains a mix of “quite easily” and “with some difficulty” responses, with more of the latter than was the case with the other Tù’un Sàjvǐ-dominant respondents.    82  3.4.9 Tsǐnâ Yaa Tsǐnâ Yaa is a 17-year-old male attending community college near Santa Maria, California. He is the cousin of all of the respondents in the youth generation introduced above. He was born in Salinas, California and lived there for two years before moving to Paredón to live with his grandparents. From the age of nine, he lived in several California cities on the Ruta Mixteca before settling in Santa Barbara County, where he continues to reside. He completed elementary school in Paredón and the rest of his schooling in California. He reports that his teachers in San Martín Peras spoke Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish, while his teachers in the US spoke Spanish and English. He does not indicate the languages used by his classmates.  His first language is Tù’un Sàjvǐ, which he continues to speak in addition to Spanish and English. He reports that only Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish are used in his home, though he indicates elsewhere in the questionnaire that he uses English with his siblings. He is the oldest of four siblings. His sister (16) is his only Tù’un Sàjvǐ-speaking sibling, and he uses all three languages with her. His other sister (9) speaks both English and Spanish, while he reports that the youngest (1) has no first language yet.  Tsǐnâ Yaa speaks Tù’un Sàjvǐ every day but never writes or receives text messages in the language, nor does he listen to Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language radio. He occasionally reads social media posts in Tù’un Sàjvǐ but only rarely sends or receives voice messages, watches online video, or listens to music in Tù’un Sàjvǐ. He reports using predominantly Tù’un Sàjvǐ along with some Spanish or English in most domains, including with his parents and relatives. When communicating with Nà Sàjvǐ friends he uses equal parts Tù’un Sàjvǐ and Spanish   83 and/or English. When texting or using technology-mediated communication, he either uses predominantly Tù’un Sàjvǐ with some Spanish or English, or he uses just Spanish or English. Like Ntsi’ì, Tsǐnâ Yaa indicates “some difficulty” with many of the Tù’un Sàjvǐ communicative tasks on the self-assessment. There are several, however, that he indicates he can complete “quite easily.” Having provided language profiles of each family member based on their responses to the family language questionnaire, I now turn how participants’ language backgrounds influenced their views and ideologies regarding youth and Tù’un Sàjvǐ.  3.5 Discussion The above language profiles based on the family questionnaire, and particularly the perceptions of youth and child family members’ language proficiency reflect the community language ideologies identified in the survey. As I argue in this section, these ideologies are rooted in participants’ language development and linguistic repertoires, vis-à-vis their individual migration histories. These individual experiences shape how participants perceive young people’s ability to speak Tù’un Sàjvǐ.  For the youth generation in the family described in the previous section, age is an important factor that is associated with one’s place of birth, migration trajectory, schooling, and language development and repertoire. More than their age, at what point in the family’s migration trajectory an individual is born will predict these characteristics and events. Because the trend is dependent on each family’s migration patterns, the dynamics resulting from these factors will likely look different for every family network.   84 In the case of this family, younger members fall into one of three cohorts based on language development and migration history: those in their 20s, those in their teens, and those under the age of 10. The oldest children who are now in their 20s (the three siblings Tùtsiayì, 24; Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ, 22; and Tsìkiva, 21) were born in Mexico, experienced monolingual language development, and did not move to the US until adolescence. At this time they acquired additional languages as late multilinguals. Those who are now teenagers (the three cousins Tsǐnâ Yaa, 17; Kaneki, 16; Ntsi’ì, 16) were all born in California but spent their early years primarily in Oaxaca, in some cases completing a few years of formal education there before moving permanently to California as children to be with their parents. In Oaxaca, these younger participants developed as Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers, but they entered the California school system early enough to be influenced by both Spanish and English and perhaps even to become more dominant in those languages. These speakers are therefore considered to be early sequential multilinguals, in the terms of Valdés and Figueroa’s typology. Finally, the youngest cohort, those who are now under the age of 10, in the participants’ nuclear families were all born and raised in the US. They did not participate in this study but their language use was reported by their immediate family members in the questionnaire. It may be that because all of the older children relocated to California and lived with their parents, they could help with childcare and so there was no need to have the children raised in Oaxaca by the grandparents, as was done with the older children. The youngest children primarily speak English and Spanish but may speak some Tù’un Sàjvǐ or have receptive comprehension of the language, according to what can be gleaned by their relatives’ questionnaire responses. They can therefore be considered early simultaneous bilinguals in Valdés and Figueroa’s typology, at least as far as Spanish and Tù’un Sàjvǐ are   85 concerned. They later acquired English sequentially, still as early multilinguals, when they began formal schooling. As Spanish and English have comprised a greater share of their communicative and linguistic practice, these languages became more dominant in their repertoire and Tù’un Sàjvǐ was restricted to interactions in certain home domains or with certain Tù’un Sàjvǐ-speaking individuals. Even in these limited domains, Spanish may have replaced Tù’un Sàjvǐ. The trajectory of these children’s language acquisition development and the current composition of their repertoire and practice align with the phenomenon of the heritage language speaker. Their language practices and proficiencies are of great interest, but they were not included in this study due to their age at the time.  As I pointed out above (§3.2) this is a shortcoming that future research in this area must attend to in aiming to support the linguistic self-determination of youth in community language maintenance initiatives. The language questionnaire responses reveal that the two older cohorts of young people have different perceptions of the language proficiency of their younger family members.  The middle cohort in the child generation who are early, sequential, and compound bilinguals generally have a greater recognition of the linguistic abilities of heritage speakers compared to older children and adults. The latter two groups tend to evaluate heritage speakers as non-speakers of Tù’un Sàjvǐ. As an example, the two brothers Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ (22, oldest child cohort) and Ntsi’ì (16, middle-range child cohort) give conflicting reports of their youngest brothers’ language repertoires as well as the language(s) they themselves use to communicate with the youngest brothers. Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ is a late multilingual, he is proficient in all three languages, and his reported linguistic performance aligns with the model of the monolingual standard. Ntsi’ì is an early sequential multilingual, he is more dominant in Spanish and   86 English than in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, and his reported linguistic practice of using all the languages his interlocutor speaks aligns with the integrated model of bilingualism. Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ does not acknowledge Tù’un Sàjvǐ as one of the languages used by their youngest brothers, while Ntsi’ì does. Despite the fact that Ntsi’ì recognizes his younger siblings’ Tù’un Sàjvǐ language abilities, he also reports that he communicates with them only in English and Spanish.  These two brothers’ assigning of different language abilities to the same individuals suggests a link between their language ideologies and their personal migration and language histories. Whereas many community members do not recognize youth as Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakers, early multilinguals, who themselves are also often targets for linguistic criticism, tend recognize the linguistic assets of the younger speakers. It would have been beneficial to ask the adult generation to assign languages to their children instead of their siblings. It would also be valuable to know what the youngest cohort of siblings says about themselves and their siblings, and to have full responses from all of the siblings who did participate in the study. A second language ideology is also evident in perceptions of other young family members.  As explained to me by one of the participants, the cousins Ntsi’ì and Kaneki are close in age and returned to the US around the same time. Their English developed at different rates, with Ntsi’ì more English-dominant and Kaneki speaking English less well. As a result, this family member evaluates Ntsi’ì as speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ poorly and attributes this to his English proficiency. According to the family member, one can hear in someone’s accent whether they ‘speak English’ (and therefore not Tù’un Sàjvǐ). On the other hand, this participant evaluated Kaneki as speaking Tù’un Sàjvǐ well, positing a connection with his lower English proficiency. Ideologically, then, Tù’un Sàjvǐ proficiency and English   87 proficiency are perceived to be in an inverse relationship where high proficiency in one is viewed as directly related to, and even responsible for, lower proficiency in the other. The absence of Spanish in this zero-sum ideology means that the form of multilingualism most common in the community, Tù’un Sàjvǐ-Spanish bilingualism, is unproblematized; in language-ideological terms, it is “erased” (Irvine & Gal 2000). This is also the most common multilingual repertoire among both adults and young adults, and it is likely no coincidence that their linguistic authority over Tù’un Sàjvǐ proficiency and their speakerhood is uncontested and left intact by this ideology. Another ideological difference between younger and older speakers is which family members are perceived as speakers of Tù’un Sàjvǐ. The early sequential multilinguals in the middle cohort (Tsǐnâ Yaa, 17; Kaneki, 16; Ntsi’ì, 16) are deemed not to speak Tù’un Sàjvǐ well in the eyes of older siblings and adults who experienced monolingual language development, and these older speakers do not recognize Tù’un Sàjvǐ as a language of the youngest children at all. By contrast, the middle cohort of teenage speakers views Tù’un Sàjvǐ as a language of the youngest cohort, who are early simultaneous Tù’un Sàjvǐ-Spanish bilinguals, with English following sequentially. Another characteristic that distinguishes the participants in the middle cohort of children is that they report using more languages with their siblings, whereas the older children who are late multilinguals report using a single language with each interlocutor. In other words, the early multilinguals use language as compound multilinguals do, whereas those who experienced monolingual language development and later learned additional languages out of circumstantial need, due to migration as young adults, approach each language as a distinct monolingual system.   88 The question of when and why community members recognize Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakerhood is significant for community language goals, as it influences, for example, adults’ code choice in speech directed at youth (e.g., Tsikewa 2024). Whether youth are acknowledged as multilingual users of Tù’un Sàjvǐ or are labeled as non-speakers and treated accordingly has implications for language maintenance in the diaspora. Language ideologies do not necessarily reflect actual language use (Minks 2010), but negative ideologies and non-attribution of speakerhood can discourage further use and development of the heritage language by youth deemed non-speakers or deficient speakers. The unfortunate expectation that multilinguals should perform linguistically as monolinguals in both languages in order to be considered competent is at the heart of such ideologies. This hierarchical valuation of language practices can be addressed in the Ñuu Savi diasporic community by incorporating and embracing translanguaging practices in Tù’un Sàjvǐ communication and language contexts. By reframing younger speakers as multilinguals rather than as non-speakers of Tù’un Sàjvǐ, older speakers can support multilingual repertoires, new languaging styles, emergent varieties, and translanguaging, thus supporting the broad and multifaceted linguistic needs of all community members.  3.6 Future research Moving forward, one important avenue for further analysis with the data discussed here is the question of how the experiences of and attitudes toward young speakers in this family differ from multilingual situations previously discussed in the literature. Several characteristics of youth in the Ñuu Savi diaspora context set them apart from youth in previous research, including the number of languages that form their repertoire, their   89 migration backgrounds and frequency of migration, and the presence of multiple mutually intelligible varieties in their broader community and the fluidity between them. The ways in which these factors influence language development and usage over time are important for heritage language research to consider, and can shed light on language maintenance planning.  3. 7 Conclusion In this chapter I drew on family language questionnaire data to show the connection between individuals’ language ideologies and their linguistic experiences and migration histories. Overall, those who experienced monolingual development were less likely to recognize the Tù’un Sàjvǐ proficiencies of younger multilinguals. Multilingual youth, on the other hand, were more likely to assign Tù’un Sàjvǐ speakerhood to the youngest cohort of children. In the next chapter, I analyze loanword usage across generations of the family introduced here.    90 CHAPTER 4 Loanword Usage and Avoidance in Tù’un Sàjvǐ across Generations  In the previous chapter, I explored language ideologies toward multilingualism, speakerhood, and young people’s use of Tu’un Savi in a Ñuu Savi diaspora community in California. I linked ideological differences to individuals’ migration and language histories by examining how members of a single extended family responded to a family language questionnaire. In their responses, participants differed in their attributions of speakerhood to the same individuals, as well as in their self-reports of which languages they use with certain family members. In the present chapter, I explore differences in linguistic strategies in Tù’un Sàjvǐ-language discourse during two narrative elicitation tasks facilitated by a research consultant with the nine family members introduced in Chapter 3. After providing an overview of previous research on loanwords in general and in Mesoamerica, I present a qualitative analysis that examines trends in the use and avoidance of Spanish loanwords. I demonstrate that these pattern with participants’ migration and language histories. First, I show that the cohort of early multilingual youth engage in several avoidance strategies around loanword usage in these tasks. In doing so, they demonstrate skill in linguistically managing both the perceived monolingual expectations of the tasks and related ideologies that elevate linguistic purism and negatively sanction code-switching. Moreover, I show that adults who experienced monolingual language development unproblematically deploy loanwords even within a traditional and valued discursive style, indicating that loanwords are not inherently incompatible with skilled Tù’un Sàjvǐ use. I conclude by framing this analysis within the perspective of diaspora linguistics, which rejects pathologizing linguistic variation.   91 As I argue, the analysis suggests that youth who may be ideologically positioned as non-ideal speakers both in their communities and in academic linguistics in fact have important contributions to make to research that addresses community goals of language maintenance. I further argue that such young people have a rightful presence (cf. Calabrese Barton & Tan 2020; Amaresh et al. 2022; Charity Hudley 2018; Bucholtz et al. under revision) in this work and that researchers have an ethical obligation to honor their linguistic self-determination. The analysis thus provides an empirical foundation for developing practical strategies for fostering language maintenance and overcoming the marginalizing and oppressive forces that hinder Indigenous language use in younger generations in the Ñuu Savi diaspora.  4.1 Language contact and loanword incorporation Loanwords are generally defined within linguistics as borrowed material from one language that is incorporated into the lexicon of another language through contact, with or without widespread multilingualism or language shift. Often, this process results from a situation in which the language that is the source of the lexical item, or the lexifier language, carries social influence and prestige. In other cases, the borrowed word may refer to a previously unfamiliar referent or activity, such as flora and fauna or new technologies.  In his classic work on lexical borrowing, Haugen (1950) distinguishes three types of borrowing processes: loanwords, loanblends, and loanshifts. I provide examples of each type in (1) through (4). Loanwords result from what Haugen calls “morphemic importation” (i.e., lexical borrowing) with varying degrees of “phonemic substitution” (i.e., phonological adaptation). That is, loanwords involve the adoption of a form and its meaning from one language into another (1a–c). Loanblends, also known as hybrids, involve partial lexical   92 borrowing or morphemic substitution, where part of the source form is preserved and part is replaced with a morpheme from the borrowing language (2). Loanshifts, by contrast, involve complete morphemic substitution (3a–c). Other scholars divide this category into subtypes including pure loan translations or calques (morpheme-by-morpheme translations), loan renditions, and semantic loans (in which the meaning of an existing word in the borrowing language is broadened or changed) (Mott & Laso 2020). An additional type of lexical borrowing that has been identified by scholars is loan creations, a concept that Mott and Laso (2020) credit to Betz’s (1949) Lehnprägung ‘loan coinage’; this type of loan uses borrowed lexical material with a newly coined meaning (4).  (1) Loanwords a. German (from French)    das Portemonnaie (alt. Portmonee) [das ˌpɔɐtmoˈneː]    ‘wallet’  b. German (from French activer, later modified with Latin material) deaktivieren    ‘deactivate’   c. Mandarin (from English)    sānmíngzhì    ‘sandwich’     93 (2)  Loanblend German (from English) der Werbeblocker ‘adblocker’  (3)  Loanshift a. from English  skyscraper     German   der Wolkenkratzer  (loan rendition)    French   le gratte-ciel    Spanish  el rascacielos    (Haugen 1950: 214 [Sandfeld-Jensen (1915)]  b. German (from English) das Netzwerk  ‘network’  c. English (possibly from Chinese haǒ jiǔ bújiàn)    long time no see  (4)  Loan creation a. German (from English adjective handy) das Handy ‘the mobile phone’   94  b. English (from French color term ‘red’)    rouge  ‘blush’ (i.e., a cosmetic for coloring the cheeks)  As Haugen discusses, loanwords of all types show a degree of integration into the phonological and morphosyntactic systems of the borrowing language. The degree of phonological adaptation of a given word typically correlates with how long ago it was borrowed. Echoing Paul (1886), Haugen also emphasizes the role of bilingualism in processes of borrowing. Whether a word undergoes phonological substitution (adaptation to the borrowing language) or importation (preservation of the borrowed form) depends on the language user’s level of bilingualism. Childhood bilinguals generally use more recent loans with little or no adaptation and may thereby introduce new phonemes into the borrowing language. They may even recognize older loans and introduce alternate forms of these words with less phonological adaptation (Haugen 1950: 216).     4.1.1 Language contact and loanwords in Mesoamerica Importantly, bilingualism plays a role in borrowing even when it is socially asymmetrical (e.g., Diebold 1961: 99; Thomason & Kaufman 1988: 66–67). That is, bilingualism is necessary for members of only one speech community in order for borrowing to occur in either speech community, and loanwords can be borrowed in either direction. For example, speakers of colonial languages (e.g., Spanish) who are not bilingual in any Indigenous language (e.g., Nahuatl) still incorporate Native names of local items such as flora and fauna   95 into their speech. In cases like these, the bilingual population introduced terms from their first language (Nahuatl) into their second (Spanish) regardless of the level of bilingual proficiency of the L1 Spanish speakers. In other words, bilingualism is required for the introduction of loanwords from one speech community to another, but individuals need not be bilingual either to “lend” or to adopt borrowed forms in either direction. This situation can result from contexts in which members of the socially subordinated speech community experience pressure (e.g., due to military occupation, disease, or political strategy) to linguistically accommodate members of the socially dominant speech community and therefore learn their language. Conversely, the socially dominant speech community experiences no such pressure but lacks terminology for never-before-encountered referents in their new context, prompting them to fill such lexical gaps with terms from the socially subordinated language. However, this schematized account relies on a diglossic social model composed of two discrete speech communities which bilinguals can mediate between but not cross or transcend. This simplistic model forecloses on the possibility of mutability of group membership and of the formation of a third hybrid speech community.   Socially asymmetrical bilingualism as a conduit for borrowing is also illustrated by the presence of Nahuatl-origin words in other Indigenous languages of Mexico via Spanish. Spanish-speaking Europeans in colonial Mesoamerica were likely neither socially willing nor linguistically able to accommodate to the region’s vast linguistic diversity. Instead, after borrowing Nahuatl terms they spread these loanwords throughout Mesoamerica due to their political and economic dominance. This hypothetical scenario is supported by the fact that contact influence of Indigenous languages on Spanish was historically limited to lexical borrowing (Dakin & Operstein 2017: 7 [Henríquez Ureña 1921]), which suggests lower rates   96 of mutual bilingualism than if structural influence were found (Thomason & Kaufman 1988), such as in recent work on varieties of so-called español indígena emerging in Indigenous communities (e.g., Zimmerman 2004). It has been pointed out that certain segments of the Spanish population in colonial Mesoamerica, namely government administrators and missionaries, capitalized on Nahuatl as a lingua franca to politically control and evangelize Indigenous populations in the region (Dakin & Operstein 2017: 5–6; Dakin 2010). Nonetheless, in general, language contact between Spanish and Indigenous languages historically produced situations of socially asymmetrical bilingualism in which Indigenous language speakers learned Spanish at higher rates than Spanish speakers learned Indigenous languages. This situation continues in Mesoamerica in the present day, with speakers of Indigenous languages experiencing pressure to learn Spanish as an L2, whereas L1 Spanish speakers are overwhelmingly unlikely to learn an Indigenous language.  The adoption of Spanish-origin lexical items into Indigenous languages is but one of the myriad and multivalent dynamics of language contact in Latin America broadly and in Mesoamerica specifically. In addition to the linguistic influence of Spanish on Indigenous languages, Dakin and Operstein identify the following phenomena: contact among Indigenous languages; influence of Indigenous languages on Spanish; contact between different varieties of Spanish, resulting in new American Spanish varieties; contact between Spanish and African languages, resulting in the emergence of contact varieties of Spanish; and contact between Spanish and the languages of other later immigrant communities (2017: 2–3). However, the trajectories of linguistic influence among languages are not always straightforward. Thus, loanwords may spread through multiple points of contact in a process of diffusion. For example, as noted above, a number of words of Nahuatl origin were   97 borrowed into Mesoamerican Indigenous languages indirectly via contact with Spanish, leading Brown (2011) to argue that influence from Nahuatl substantially shaped the Mesoamerican linguistic area. But as with Spanish contact, linguistic influence between Indigenous languages was multidirectional. Researchers have demonstrated that many words that made their way from Nahuatl into other Indigenous Mesoamerican languages in fact have their etymological origins in Mixe-Zoquean languages. Kaufman and Justeson (2007) identify the pre-Columbian Olmec empire as the sociocultural origin for this linguistic influence, which resulted in the eventual diffusion of Mixe-Zoquean words throughout the languages of Mesoamerica. This borrowing occurred through direct contact with Mixe-Zoquean languages, via later contact with Nahuatl and Mayan languages, or via even later contact with Spanish.  Kaufman and Justeson (2007: 199) state that the domains with particular propensity for Mixe-Zoquean borrowing included animals, plants, tools, food preparation, social roles, kinship, and the Mesoamerican ritual calendar. Their discussion focuses on the widespread term cacao, from the Mixe-Zoquean *kakaw(a), which they propose spread mostly through Mayan languages after it was borrowed from a Mixe-Zoque language. Tu’un Savi languages, interestingly, have largely retained a lexeme which Josserand (1983) reconstructs to proto-Mixtec *sɨʔwa ‘cacao’. In some varieties spoken in San Martín Peras Municipality, where the Tù’un Sàjvǐ of Piedra Azul is also spoken, the contemporary term si’và has ‘seed’ as its most basic meaning, but through semantic narrowing also refers specifically to cacao as well as to other types of seeds, such as stone fruit pits and peanuts (si’và ñu’ǔ ‘seed’ + ‘earth’). The latter form is also an example of the widespread Mesoamerican propensity for semantic loans. As Kaufman and Justeson point out, terms for ‘peanut’ throughout Mesoamerica   98 contain the word for ‘cacao’, usually as ‘earth-cacao’ but also simply as ‘cacao’ in regions where cacao does not grow (2007: 195). Thus, the term for ‘peanut’ in the Tù’un Sàjvǐ of Piedra Azul retains a proto-Mixtec lexical item while also illustrating Mesoamerican processes of lexical and semantic diffusion through contact.  Elsewhere, Kaufman and Justeson state, “In Mesoamerica, lexical borrowing among languages occurs at fairly low levels, so its occurrence reflects a serious amount of interaction” (2009: 222). The point of comparison for this claim is not clear. I take the authors to mean not that interaction among Mesoamerican peoples was infrequent or that their languages (or speakers) are particularly resistant to borrowing, but rather that the semantic domains of loanwords in Mesoamerica indicate the social and cultural domains of the most intense contact. Indeed, Kaufman and Justeson subsequently detail several examples of morphosyntactic structural borrowing between Mixe-Zoquean and Mayan languages, stating that this phenomenon reflects long-term mutual engagement and bilingualism.   In fact, lexical borrowing is recognized by linguists as a central characteristic of the Mesoamerican region. A set of 13 widely diffused semantic calques (Smith Stark 1982, 1994) has been argued to be one of the five strongest defining features of Mesoamerica as a linguistic area (Campbell et al. 1986: 555). The full list compiled by Smith Stark (1982, 1994) and Campbell et al. (1986) includes 42 additional semantic calques that are less widely distributed and occur in only a few languages of the area. Similarly, the large number of widespread loanwords of unknown origin throughout Mesoamerica and among languages spoken at its northern periphery (Kaufman 2020) demonstrates the longstanding sharing of lexical items across languages in the region. Hill (2012) even argues that proto-Uto-Aztecan   99 should be considered a Mesoamerican language, presenting evidence of loanwords from an Otomanguean language, possibly proto-Oto-Chinantecan.  In Mesoamerica, loanwords are not confined to linguistic history but are also part of contemporary languages. For example, Smith Stark (2007) provides a summary of documented Spanish loanwords in Zapotec languages in the 16th and 18th centuries, documented Zapotec loans in Spanish in the 20th century, and 25 previously undocumented contemporary Zapotec loans in Spanish from his own contemporary work. Similarly, loanwords of Spanish and Nahuatl origin occur in contemporary Tu’un Savi languages. Tequio, the term used to refer to communal labor in many Mexican communities, including the Ñuu Savi of San Martín Peras, comes from the Nahuatl tequiotl (Hernández 1996). There is some controversy regarding other potential loanwords. For example, in the Tu’un Savi variety of San Juan Colorado, the word for cat, mistu (Stark Campbell et al. 1986), is suggested by Pfadenhauer (2012) to be a loanword from Nahuatl mistonli ‘cat’ or mistli ‘puma’. This seems unlikely given that this term is a known Wanderwort extending beyond Mesoamerica and found in Latin America more broadly. It has been suggested that it is based on the Spanish call for summoning cats (Kiddle 1964), while in the Tu’un Savi variety of Coatzospan the source has been identified as an old Spanish word for cat, mistón (Small 1990: 306). The fact that words for ‘cat’ in Tu’un Savi languages have multiple sources is clear in the work of Josserand (1983), who sets apart forms like mistu, with the phonological shape NVCCV, among several others, as not belonging to the cognate set she reconstructs to proto-Mixtec *wiluʔ. Some of the Tu’un Savi varieties with which the MILPA project works have forms like β̞ilu that are cognate with the proto-Mixtec form, while others have forms   100 like chiti and chutu instead of or in addition to β̞ilu, which are apparently not cognate with it and were not included by Josserand in her reconstruction of this word. In the most recent and most extensive treatment of loanwords in Tu’un Savi, Pfadenhauer (2012) compares the Spanish of Mexico City-based Na Savi migrants from various regions with the Spanish of Na Savi individuals residing in more rural settings around the Costa Chica region and in Santa Cata[l]ina Chinango in the district of Huajuapan de León (“Mixteca Baja”), which Pfadenhauer idiosyncratically spells <Catarina>. In her analysis she discusses several Tu’un Savi and Spanish loanwords both in participants’ speech and in written literary and educational materials. She points out that the Costa Chica Na Savi individuals based in Mexico City do not incorporate many loans from Tu’un Savi into their Spanish. The few that are incorporated are terms for flora and fauna, such as tixinda for ‘mussel’ (2012: 128). She finds that Spanish loans in Tu’un Savi are much more frequent and have even been incorporated into materials designed for the teaching of Tu’un Savi. For example, materials designed for the district of Huajuapan de León (which is based at least in part on the Da’an Davi variety of Santa Catalina Chinango) and produced by several Mexican governmental agencies include the loanwords and loanblends shown in (5). The list is drawn from materials that include several plant types and specific woody and fruit trees, only some of which are referred to with loans.  (5) From Spanish-Da’an Davi bilingual multimedia text reproduced in Pfadenhauer (2012: 128) from Pliego Fuentes et al. (2006) a. estadu   ‘state’  (Sp. estado) b. millón   ‘million’    101 c. kada    ‘each’  (Sp. cada) d. cientu   ‘hundred’  (Sp. cien/cientos) e. región   ‘region’ f. entre   ‘among, between’ g. madera  ‘wooden’ h. ton pino  ‘pine tree’ i. ton cedru  ‘cedar’  (Sp. cedro) j. fruta   ‘fruit’ k. ton mango  ‘mango tree’ l. ton lima  ‘lime tree’ m. ton limón  ‘lemon tree’  In the Tu’un Savi of individuals in the Costa Chica region, Pfadenhauer identifies several lexical loans from Spanish, some which have carried over their discourse functions as well (2012: 177). These include the lexical items violín ‘violin’, escuela bilingüe ‘bilingual school’, primaria ‘elementary school’, and diabeteh (Sp. diabetes) ‘diabetes’, as well as expressions like gracias a Dios ‘thank God’ and Dios mío ‘oh my God’. Loans with specific discourse functions include interjection/backchannel eso (Sp. eso es ‘that’s it), exclamation ándale ‘come on!’, agreement marker (and likely discourse marker) bueno ‘good, okay’, floor-holding device pero ‘but’ (with distinct long intonation contour), and gradation particle nomáh (Sp. nomás ‘just, only’). Pfadenhauer also identifies the following as Spanish loanwords used by Tu’un Savi speakers whom she characterizes as having little to no Spanish proficiency: español ‘Spanish’, campesinu (Sp. campesino ‘farmer, rural person’),   102 historia ‘history’, vitamina ‘vitamin’, cuentru (Sp. cuento ‘story’), güera ‘blonde’, manzana ‘apple’, and papaya ‘papaya’. In line with other research discussed above, Pfadenhauer’s study demonstrates that there are more Spanish loans in speakers’ Tu’un Savi than Tu’un Savi loans in their Spanish. Importantly, even speakers she describes as essentially monolingual use these loans, yet they do not participate in language shift to Spanish. Thus, as I discuss in the next section, loanwords are not necessarily evidence of language shift and may be compatible with language maintenance.   4.1.2 Loanwords and language shift Traditional linguistic research tends to view loanwords negatively rather than positively or neutrally. For example, researchers of language contact and minoritized languages have sometimes used loanwords as evidence of language shift (e.g., Dorian 1980; Myers-Scotton 1992). However, the long history of language contact and mutual influence among the languages of Mesoamerica, as well as the literature on language contact and change (Poplack 2018; Thomason & Kaufman 1988), demonstrates that loanword phenomena are the contact processes that are least disruptive to linguistic structure and language maintenance. Moreover, counter to perspectives of shift, attrition, and obsolescence in linguistic research on Indigenous languages, decolonial and reclamation perspectives on Indigenous language practices emphasize that any use of Native linguistic forms is at odds with pathologizing labels like “endangered” or “extinct” (Leonard 2008, 2011). Analogously, Hill (1989) points out that even in contexts of language shift, it is necessary to examine the social dimensions of language use, as these can explain observed linguistic practices better than vague pathologizing appeals to language obsolescence.    103 A similar trend is found in heritage language research. There is little discussion of loanwords in this body of work, and when the topic is addressed it is generally framed negatively.  Studies of heritage language development sometimes view loanwords as diagnostic of “attrition” or “incomplete acquisition” and as evidence of L2 encroachment (e.g., Montrul 2016; Benmamoun et al. 2013). In critiquing this perspective, Leeman (2012) argues that work on heritage language speakers is over-reliant on standard language ideologies and does not account for the language varieties and practices that are typical in the US. She points out that this limited perspective leaves unexamined much of the variability in language ideologies about heritage language Spanish speakers and their linguistic practices, including code-switching and the use of English loanwords. The long history of linguistic borrowing throughout the languages of Mesoamerica has the potential to calm ideologically motivated anxieties that cast Spanish loanwords as evidence of linguistic demise.  Lexical sharing and diffusion as a result of contact are a central part of Indigenous languages’ histories and a core part of language dynamics in Mesoamerica from ancient times to the contemporary day and thus call into question the notion of a “pure” or unadulterated language. Furthermore, the pervasiveness of this process shows that loanwords are not dangerous or destructive. As I demonstrate in the following analysis, loanwords are an important part of the linguistic practices of Nà Sàjvǐ multilinguals in diaspora regardless of their age or degree of proficiency in Tù’un Sàjvǐ. Embracing such moments of translanguaging without trepidation, multilinguals can draw from their varied linguistic resources, deploying a Spanish word here or there. Ultimately, I argue, this gives their Tu’un Savi room to breathe and thereby supports community language maintenance goals through the active use of the language.    104  4.2 Methodology In this section I describe the tools used to elicit the narratives analyzed below as well as the methods of data collection and analysis.   4.2.1 Narrative elicitation tools in diasporic linguistics The data analyzed in this chapter come from narratives elicited using two classic tools, the frog story task (Berman & Slobin 1994; Strömqvist & Verhoeven 2004) and The Pear Film (Chafe 1980). The frog story task uses a wordless children’s book, Frog, Where Are You?, created by Mercer Mayer (1969), consisting of 26 pictures or storyboards with no accompanying text. The Pear Film, designed by linguist Wallace Chafe in 1975 and filmed in the area around Santa Barbara, is a 6-minute film with no dialogue (Chafe 1975). As a linguistic tool, it depicts a specific sequencing of actions on screen in order to elicit connected discourse that reveals language users’ strategies for tracking referents and marking modality, along with other syntactic and clause structures.  It has been widely used in linguistic research, particularly the documentation of discourse.  These stimuli have the advantage of allowing for the study of naturalistic connected talk while still controlling the content of the discourse to ensure maximal comparability in participants’ linguistic encoding and information management. Introduced at a time when documentary linguistics was primarily elicitation-based, these highly innovative tools facilitated the investigation of linguistic structure in language use. They continue to be used in language documentation, with notable recent work occurring in the documentation of signed languages (e.g., Choubsaz et al. 2022; Noschese 2021; Nishio et al. 2010). The Pear   105 Film has achieved a particularly far reach into various linguistic subfields and has been used in numerous research areas, such as discourse and interaction (Blackwell 2009), co-gesture (Nikolaeva 2017), syntactic typology (Bickel 2003), grammaticalization (Croft 2010), clinical linguistics (Bourdreau & Chapman 2000), and educational linguistics (Dávila-Montes & Rathbun 2020); the latter study, like my own, focuses on bilingual youth. Based on my own survey of the literature, the frog story appears to have become more limited in its application recently, although the storyboard methodology to which the frog story belongs continues to feature in linguistic research (e.g., Burton & Matthewson 2015).  I acknowledge the limitations of this methodology. Although elicitation is a longstanding method of language documentation and continues to have its proponents (e.g., Davis et al. 2014), standard elicitation materials, including discourse-based stimuli such as The Pear Film and Frog, Where are You?, have been criticized as irrelevant to many of the contexts and communities in which documentary linguists work, with respect to both their medium (e.g., DuBois 1980) and their content (e.g., Chelliah 2001, 2021); in the case of the two elicitation tools I use, the characters (animals and apparently non-Indigenous people) do not reflect the identities of the participants in my study. Moreover, in light of the field’s growing recognition of the importance of decolonizing and collaborative methods (e.g., Czaykowska-Higgins 2009; Leonard & Haynes 2010; Cruz & Woodbury 2014; Galla & Goodwill 2017; Leonard 2018, 2021; Sapién 2018; Bischoff & Jany 2019; Tsikewa 2021; Cruz Cruz 2022), more attention is being rightfully directed to the development of linguistic research tools that avoid academic researchers’ cultural biases and the assumption that Eurocentric narrative structures are universally applicable. Cultural relevance is especially important when the data collected for linguistic analysis are framed as an applied research output for community   106 dissemination under the banner of “broader impacts,” which funding agencies and academic organizations increasingly require researchers to demonstrate. If the research data will also be shared with community members as a historical record of their language and ancestors, then it is reasonable to require that community members should minimally be able to see themselves and their culture reflected in the materials beyond the mere linguistic form.  As linguistic corpora have tended to be designed primarily to serve the goals of academic researchers, the shift to centering content and contexts that are relevant and meaningful to partnering communities is one way to balance the multiple needs and applications of language work and create more equitable research relationships. Admittedly, multiple unedited and unrehearsed versions of a story that is not part of the community’s own traditions, such as narratives that comprise the corpus used in this study, are unlikely to be suited for community dissemination. In this respect, the resulting data do not directly serve the purpose of supporting community members’ linguistic self-determination (with one notable exception discussed in the next section). Indirectly, however, the data support community goals by forming the basis of a proposed lesson plan for community youth on the topic of bilingualism, which I describe in Chapter 5.  Despite the drawbacks and issues just described, the use of stimulus materials that are not embedded in a traditional Ñuu Savi cultural and geographic context has at least two advantages in the present study. First, the setting of both stimuli is familiar to the Ñuu Savi diasporic community in California, where the participants have lived for nearly half of their lives or more. The storybook genre centering the adventures of a child as well as most of the depicted animals in Frog, Where Are You? are familiar to members of the diasporic community as well. In addition, the setting, landscape, and material elements of The Pear   107 Film (e.g., a basket, a bicycle, a ladder) are familiar to those living and working in California’s Central Coast region, often in rural areas that resemble the location where the stimulus was filmed. These tools are therefore fitting for investigating how language is used by Tu’un Savi speakers in diaspora in contexts specific to diaspora. This diasporic linguistic perspective acknowledges their present-day identification as members of a transnational Oaxacalifornia community (e.g., Kearney 1995b: 559, Kearney 2020) that centrally includes California, a space where they have a rightful presence. Indeed, it would be inappropriate to relegate the participants in my study solely to Oaxaca, traditional culture, and the historic past. Another advantage of using these materials is that they present the opportunity to examine practices around loanword usage and avoidance that may otherwise have gone unnoticed precisely because they require reference to items that are not a part of traditional Ñuu Savi culture, as discussed below. Additionally, in the present study, controlled elicitation of narrative discourse facilitates the analysis of variation and difference across community members with different linguistic experiences, a key concern to community members concerned about language shift and maintenance. Such analyses are more difficult to perform with the corpora typically created in language documentation research, which focus on traditional narratives and other cultural knowledge. In part, young multilinguals tend to not be privy to this type of knowledge and lack access to the genres included in such corpora. They are thus excluded from participating and their linguistic practices do not make it onto the record. As I argued in Chapter 1, language work in diasporic contexts calls for multifaceted approaches to documentary and applied linguistic research in order to address the myriad linguistic issues intertwined with community goals for language maintenance. Small task-based corpora that facilitate the investigation of specific research questions   108 around multilingualism and language shift are a valuable part of this multifaceted approach alongside broad culturally-relevant multimedia documentation of language use, and it is important to reiterate that the present study is a small piece of a larger project that advances the community’s documentation and reclamation goals. Other work within the MILPA project takes a less structured approach to collecting conversational discourse with speakers using different linguistic repertoires in various dyads and settings. This allows a broader investigation of variation, multilingual practices, translanguaging, and linguistic accommodation (e.g., Belmar Viernes 2024). While the data and materials in the frog and pear stories corpus discussed in this chapter are not culturally relevant in the usual sense and would not be sufficient as a stand-alone study of community language use, they serve a crucial purpose in aligning with community interests in multilingualism, language shift, and language maintenance – a central goal of diasporic linguistics.   4.2.2 Methods of data collection The stimuli were administered to the same participants in the same setting described in Chapter 3. Prior to completing the questionnaires analyzed in Chapter 3, the research consultant briefly introduced the two semi-structured tasks. The consultant explained that following the questionnaire they would be asked to wear a headset microphone and, for the first task, look once through a series of 26 images that tell a story but have no words on the page, and then turn through page by page, using Tù’un Sàjvǐ to narrate the story depicted on the pages as they go. They were told that in the second task, they would be asked to watch a short film approximately 5 minutes in length without any words and then try to remember as much of it as possible and tell the consultant what happened in the film. The consultant   109 feigned naivety about the content, but participants may have either been aware or inferred that the consultant had previously viewed the film. At the very least, they were likely aware that other participants had already explained the events of the film in the same elicitation task.  In previous instructions, explanations, and assistance with forms, the consultant used any language or combination of languages that they generally used with each participant/family member. By contrast, following the completion of the questionnaire in Chapter 3, the consultant used Tù’un Sàjvǐ to introduce the first stimulus material, Frog, Where are You?, in more detail. The shift to Tù’un Sàjvǐ was part of the research design, in order to create the context for the use of the language during the elicitation tasks. Participants viewed either a PDF of the book pages or physical printouts, both in black and white. The title text on the cover was blocked out. The consultant told participants that the book was about a boy, a dog, and a frog, pointing to each character on the cover in turn. The consultant asked participants to look through all of the pictures, paying attention to each one so that afterwards they could go through the pages a second time and tell the story using the pictures to guide their narration. The consultant emphasized that there was no right or wrong version of the story and that participants should just narrate the events from their own perspective. Following this task, the consultant repeated the instructions for the Pear Film narration task in Tù’un Sàjvǐ before opening the video on YouTube in a web browser.  The resulting recordings comprise a corpus of 1 hour 53 minutes and 30 seconds of connected speech, summarized in Table 1. The frog stories account for over an hour of the corpus, while the pear stories account for fewer than 50 minutes. The amount of speech participants produced in each task may reflect their relative engagement and interest in the   110 stimulus materials, as they reported enjoying the Frog, Where Are You? narration more than the film retelling task. Whereas the pear stories averaged 05:18 (mm:ss) in length and ranged between 02:12 and 08:01, the frog stories averaged 07:19, with one narrative as long as 13:59. One outlier among the recordings that skews the range and average length of the frog stories is that of Yìvì Tsióó, who is only recorded narrating the first one or two pages because the audio recorder cut off due to an error. As a result, his recorded frog story is shorter than his pear story, which was also on the shorter end relative to that of other participants. One other participant whose data do not align with the overall group trends is Tsìkiva, whose pear story is about 1 minute longer than her frog story. Everyone else’s frog story was longer than their pear story by at least 1 to 3 minutes, with Ntsìvá’yi’s being more than twice as long (8 minutes longer).  Aside from the issue of the participants’ reported relative enjoyment of each task, the recording length disparity between the two narratives may also be due in part to factors such as differences in stimuli modality (paper/PDF images vs. video) and in the format of the task (preview plus subsequent narration guided by stimulus vs. single viewing followed by retelling from memory) as well as the order in which the tasks were administered, which may have led to more fatigue in the second task. It should also be noted that Itâ Tsìndoo’s frog story in the corpus is her second of two narration takes. Because she is particularly interested in the genre of children’s storybooks and has experience in creating several storybooks in Tù’un Sàjvǐ, the recognizable format of the stimulus inspired her to narrate the story a second time in a manner suitable for storytelling to children. According to her wishes, priority was given to transcribing and including her preferred version of the narrative in the corpus. The version included here is 2 minutes longer than her original telling and may have influenced   111 the data in other ways as well.  Participants Frog Story Pear Story  Name Demogr.  (gender, age) Generation and bilingualism (see Chapter 3) Length (mm:ss) Length (mm:ss) 1 Ntsìvá’yi M 44 Parent generation - Monolingual development  - Some Spanish proficiency 13:59 05:56 2 Itâ Tsìndoo F 41 08:57 05:37 3 Yìvì Tsióó M 36 00:31 02:40 4 Tùtsiayì M 24 Child generation (young adult) - Monolingual development  - Late, sequential, coordinate    bi/multilinguals 07:21 05:25 5 Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ M 22 07:31 06:33 6 Tsìkiva F 21 06:56 08:01 7 Ntsi’ì M 16 Child generation (teenager) - Early, sequential bilingual    language development  - Compound multilinguals 10:56 07:23 8 Kaneki M 16 05:18 02:12 9 Tsǐnâ Yaa M 17 04:22 03:20 TOTAL    01:05:51 47:39 AVG    07:19 05:18 Table 4.1. Length of recordings by participant.  4.2.3 Methods of data analysis Processing the data proceeded in several phases, with research assistants first transcribing the Tù’un Sàjvǐ and translating it to Spanish. Another set of research assistants translated the Spanish to English for half of the recordings. Initial analysis of the data involved reading through each text and arranging them by parallel structure to closely compare how each speaker described the same elements of the story stimuli. The most apparent variation was in the use or avoidance of loanwords, which was immediately evident upon comparing the recordings. The range of strategies that participants used to refer to the same object was striking, as was the apparently problematic nature of these referents for some participants: these points in the narratives were marked with hesitations, false starts, recasts, lexical searches, and circumlocutions. This issue is the focus of the analysis in the following section.    112  4.3 Loanword usage across generations As shown in §4.1, Tu’un Savi languages have participated in broader Mesoamerican linguistic trends of sharing lexical items with other languages. This includes the variety of Tù’un Sàjvǐ of San Martín Peras spoken by the family members who participated in this study. Contrary to the ideologies expressed in Chapter 3, the inclusion of loanwords from Spanish is not restricted to diaspora varieties of Tù’un Sàjvǐ. Several terms were incorporated into the language long before Na Savi individuals began migrating from their home communities in large numbers (see Chapter 2), as evidenced by the degree of phonological adaptation they have undergone. Some Spanish loans that appear in the language work of the MILPA project are provided in example (6). All of the borrowed terms are nouns; I have encountered only a few loanwords in the verbal domain. However, they have been reported to be more frequent in the variety of Ahuejutla, San Martín Peras in what are likely compound constructions formed by the Tu’un Savi stem for ‘do’ inflected for aspect-mood, kasa/kìxa/kíxa, plus a phonologically adapted loan of a Spanish verb (e.g., kantâ from Spanish cantar ‘to sing’) (pc. Ben Eischens).  (6) Loanwords in Tù’un Sàjvǐ  a. nchióxì  ‘God’     (Sp. Dios) b. anìma   ‘spirit’     (Sp. ánimo) c. amáka   ‘hammock’    (Sp. hamaca) d. oficina   ‘office’    (Sp. oficina) e. scuela   ‘school’    (Sp. escuela)   113 f. campo   ‘(agricultural) field’ (Sp. campo) g. computadora ‘computer’   (Sp. computadora) h. fresa   ‘strawberry’   (Sp. fresa) i. libro   ‘book’     (Sp. libro) j. radio   ‘radio’     (Sp. radio) k. tiénda   ‘store’     (Sp. tienda) l. days of the week, months, numerals for dates and clock time  A sampling of loans identified in the corpus of frog and pear stories is provided in Tables 4.2 through 4.6. They consist mostly of nouns for animals and nontraditional items, but also include nouns to approximate Spanish adverbial functions (e.g., ‘as thanks’ with gracia), sequential ordering of events (e.g., primero ‘the first thing that…’), or a similitive function (e.g., modo piscador ‘like a (fruit) picker’). A single adjectival loan was used, preocupádo ‘preoccupied’. Borrowings from Spanish verbs are used both for verbal meaning, such as kìxa límpia ‘cleaned (it)’ (Mx. ‘did’ + Sp. limpiar ‘clean’), and for a certain aspectual function, as in kixa segî ‘still continue to X’ (Mx. ‘do’ + Sp. seguir ‘continue’).  Table 4.2 provides examples of loanwords that appeared only in the narratives of participants in the adult generation. While the research consultant sometimes used the Spanish loanword kwénto (< Sp. cuento ‘story) when administering the elicitation tasks, the participants did not use the word themselves.      114  Pear Story Frog Story a.  parrilla ‘grate’, ‘rack’ c.  cuento ‘story’ b.  kixa segî ‘continue to’ Mx. ‘do’ + Sp. seguir ‘continue’   Table 4.2. Loanwords used only by members of the adult generation, by task.  Table 4.3 provides examples of loanwords that were used by members of all generational groups. Pear Story Frog Story a.  scalera/ escalera ‘ladder’ e.  sápò ‘toad’ b.  pera ‘pear’ f.  ventana ‘window’ c.  canasta ‘basket’   d.  (tun) bicicleta/ biscleta ‘bicycle’ Mx. CL for  tree or machine + Sp. ‘bicycle’    Table 4.3. Loanwords used by members of all generations, by task.  Table 4.4 shows examples of loanwords that were used in the narratives of members of both child generations – that is, both young adults and teenagers – but not in those of the adult generation.      115 Pear Story Frog Story a.  basquete ‘basket’ d.  familia ‘family’ b.  modo similitive Sp. ‘way’, ‘manner’ e.  kámà ‘bed’ c.  gorra ‘hat’ f.  botâ ‘boot’ Table 4.4. Loanwords used only by members of both child generations, by task.  Table 4.5 provides examples of loanwords found only in the narratives of members of the young adult generation of children. The relative dearth of loanwords used exclusively by the young adults, second only to the adult generation, indicates that these language users largely conform to more broadly accepted trends in loanword usage, using only the most frequent types that are shared with other generational groups. Pear Story Frog Story a.  sombrero ‘hat’ b. vúo ‘owl’ Sp. búho   c.  fótò ‘picture’   d.  preocupádo ‘preoccupied’ Table 4.5. Loanwords used only by members of the young adult generation of children, by task.  Table 4.6 lists loanwords found only in the narratives of members of the teenager generation of children. There was only one loanword used by members of both the adult and teenager generation to the exclusion of the young adults, bolsa ‘bag’ in reference to the large bag-like pocket of the apron appearing in the beginning of The Pear Film. Because there was a single form from just one text type overlapping exclusively between the adult and teenager   116 group, it is not provided in a table. No examples of loans shared only between adults and the young adult children to the exclusion of the teenagers appeared in the corpus. Pear Story Frog Story a.  video ‘video’ j.  historia ‘story’ b.  campo ‘field’ k.  cuárto ‘room’ c.  caja ‘box’ (ref. to basket) l.  bósque ‘forest’ d.  cachucha ‘hat’ m. problémà ‘problem’ e.  gracia (n.) ‘thanks’ (n.) n. ave ‘bird’ f.  guava ‘guava’ (ref. to pear) o. ratôn ‘mouse’ g.  sonido sound p. venádò ‘deer’ h.  primero ‘the first thing’ q. ruídò ‘noise’ i.  kìxa límpia  ‘cleaned (it)’ Mx. ‘did’ + Sp. ‘clean’ r. kìxa scuchá-rà  ‘he heard’ Mx. ‘did’ + Sp. escuchar ‘hear’ + Mx. ‘he’   s. ládò  ‘place’ Sp. ‘side’   t.  nido abeja ‘beehive’ Sp. ‘nest’ + ‘bee’   u.  hoyo ‘hole’ Table 4.6. Loanwords used only by the teenager generation of children, by task.   Not all of the loans in each table were used by all speakers in the specified generation(s). The inclusion of a loanword in a particular table indicates that at least one person from that generation used the term. In fact, it was rarely the case that everyone in the same generation used the same loanwords. While a few were widely used across all groups, much of the loanword usage in the data was highly idiosyncratic. Even for words that were used across all generations (those in Table 4.3), not all members of all groups utilized them. Some speakers consistently used a loanword for a given referent while others used a native word, and still   117 others alternated between a native and a borrowed lexical form. For example, the only loanword that Itâ Tsìndoo used in her frog story was ventana ‘window’. Similarly, while Ntsìvá’yi in the parent generation used sápò (< Spanish sapo ‘toad’) to refer to the frog, other participants, including some in the teenager generation, referred to the animal with the native lexical items sá’và ‘frog’ or síkui ‘toad’. Throughout their narratives, two participants shifted between referring to a hat with ixìjnǐ and either gorra or sombrero, two Spanish words for ‘hat’. While all participants used at least one loanword type (with multiple tokens), some used more loanwords than others.  4.4 Strategies of reference While all participants used loanwords to some extent, the youngest, most multilingual generation used the most loanword types in their narratives. This generation was also more likely to linguistically index loanwords as problematic through hesitations, false starts, lexical searches, recasts, and circumlocution. This tendency suggests either a sensitivity to expectations of monolingual performance, particularly in the context of a linguistic elicitation task, or a dispreference for noticeable Spanish loanwords, but regardless of the motivation, it demonstrates speakers’ linguistic adeptness in managing and navigating these pressures. In this section, I turn to a particularly illustrative example of this phenomenon. On page 1 of the frog story stimulus, the child protagonist’s presumed pet frog is depicted in a large glass container, and on page 2 it is shown crawling out of the container. Page 3 shows the empty container (Figure 4.1). This sequence in the stimulus elicited reference to the container from the participants in a variety of ways. This particular type of container does not prototypically fit any available lexical item in the participants’ Tù’un Sàjvǐ, whether a   118 native lexical item or a common loanword, as evidenced by the range of strategies they used to refer to it (p.c. Inî G. Mendoza). High-frequency Spanish loanwords for containers in Tù’un Sàjvǐ include váso (‘cup’, ‘glass’) and botéllâ (‘bottle’). In the native lexicon, the most frequent term for smaller vessels is yaxǐn, a small shallow jícara gourd bowl for drinking. Conceivably, the container could be referred to as a ‘pitcher’, tsinto’ǒ, but no participant did so. Suitable English words to describe the vessel include jar or canister., which may have been available to some participants due to their experiences in diaspora in California. Because no clear semantic match exists for this referent in the native lexicon, the task required participants to make linguistic decisions that highlighted the linguistic creativity involved in diasporic linguistic situations.       Figure 4. Storyboards from three pages of the frog story tool showing the problematic referent, the glass container.  References to the container can be divided into three types: 1) direct references, utilizing a range of native and borrowed lexical items; 2) circumlocutionary references using a relative clause; and 3) references to the presumed contents. Additionally, one participant simply   119 referred to the frog at this point in the narrative, which I count as a reference to the contents of the jar. In the following analysis, I examine the use of these strategies by participants within each generation.   4.4.1 Reference strategies of the adult generation Adults used two primary strategies to refer to the container. In example (7), Ntsìvá’yi, a member of the adult generation, refers to the container with the loanword váso (Sp. vaso ‘cup’), adapting it to Tù’un Sàjvǐ phonology by mapping the tone melody of HM onto the Spanish penultimate stress pattern: the stressed vowel is assigned a H tone, and the following syllable is assigned a M tone.3 In example (8), Itâ Tsìndoo, another member of the adult generation, refers to the presumed contents of the container rather than the container itself, using the native lexical item tsikuǐi ‘water’.   7) Spanish loanword váso ‘cup’ (Ntsìvá’yi, 44) chìkaa-rà-rí inî váso lo’o  PFV.put.TR-3M-3ANML inside cup small ‘he put it in a small jar’ [01:13]     3 The orthography used here differs from the IPA as follows: v = [β̞], kuV = [kwV], r = [ɾ], tsiV = [tsjV], ch = [tʃ], x = [ʃ], ñ = [ɲ], y = [j], ’ = [ʔ], j = [h], Vn = nasal vowel, V́ = high tone, V = mid tone, V̀ = low tone, V̌ = rising tone, V̂ = falling tone, ‘-‘ = clitic boundary.   120 8) Presumed contents tsikuǐi ‘water’ (Itâ Tsìndoo, 41) Inî míí tsikuǐi naka sá’và sànà-rà. inside FOC water DEM frog POSS.ANML-3M ‘Inside the water is his frog.’ [01:00]  These strategies were also used by the youngest generation, the teenagers, but this group drew on additional strategies as well. I discuss these strategies below.  4.4.2 Reference strategies of the teenager generation Compared to the adults, the teenagers exhibited some hesitation and uncertainty about how to refer to the container, evident in their restarts and repetitions as well as in the use of different lexical items for the container at each mention. In example (9a), Tsǐnâ Yaa first refers to it with the Spanish loanword kájà (caja ‘box’), but as shown in (9b), later in his narrative he uses the loanword vídriò. This loanword is based on the Spanish word for the material glass (vidrio ‘glass’), but it extends the semantics to include cup-like vessels, likely based on the polysemous English form glass, which refers both to the material and a type of vessel.   9) Spanish loanwords caja ‘box’ and vidrio ‘glass’ (Tsǐnâ Yaa, 17) a. ñuù ikan ra kixaa ntsinata míí sápò inî kájà ñà’a-rí ra sa’ night LOC DM start exit FOC frog inside box POSS.INAN-3ANML DM TAG ‘in the night the frog got out of its box’          121 b. xítsie’e-rà inî vídriò kǒñà’a-rí nákaa look-3M inside glass NEG.EXIST-3ANML DEM ‘he [boy] looked in the glass, it wasn’t there’  [00:49]  Ntsi’ì exhibits similar hesitation in example (10) but resolves the difficulty with a different strategy. He restarts his utterance twice, pausing for 2.4 and 1.2 seconds respectively before producing a lengthy relative clause. Choosing to produce a relative clause structure at this point suggests that his previous restarts accompanied a lexical search that he ultimately abandoned. As Hill (1989) points out, relative clause usage is impacted by social dimensions of language use. In the present context, I argue that Ntsi’ì’s use of a relative clause is influenced by social dynamics, namely his attentiveness to ideologies of language purism and his reluctance to reach for even a well-established loan like váso, which members of the parent generation use, as shown in example (7) above. It is also worth noting that Ntsi’ì unproblematically uses a loanword, sápo, alongside the relative clause to refer to the container. His different treatment of these two referents appears to be due to the special status of animal loanwords, as also illustrated in Table 3 above, which shows that speakers of all ages use sápo.   10) Relative clause (Ntsi’i, 16) kùní nàkasi-nà míí ñà (2.4, door closes) kùní   nàkasi-nà   míí  ñà PFV.NEG  PFV.close-3PL  FOC DM   122  kùní nàkasi-nà míí ñà (1.2)  kùní   nàkasi-nà   míí  ñà PFV.NEG  PFV.close-3PL  FOC DM  kùní nàkasi-nà míí ñà’a [chìkaa-nà míí ñà  kùní   nàkasi-nà   míí  ñà’a  [chìkaa-nà   míí  ñà  PFV.NEG  PFV.close-3PL  FOC  thing  PFV.put.TR-3PL  FOC  DM  sápo lo’o yó’ò __ ] nì sápo  lo’o  yó’ò]  nì toad  small  DEM  DM  ‘they didn’t close the…they didn’t close the…they didn’t close the thing [they put the little toad in]’ [01:27]  Given that relative clauses are more syntactically complex than bare nominal heads, in opting for this strategy Ntsi’ì simultaneously avoids a potentially problematic loanword and wields complex clausal syntax. As this example shows, relative clauses in the Tù’un Sàjvǐ variety include an external head and use a gap strategy in the relativized position. Verbs are finite, as they are marked for tense-aspect as well as person, so long as the subject is not being relativized. This is similar to Zenzontepec Chatino (Campbell 2021) and other   123 Mesoamerican languages (Palancar et al. 2021). While this example demonstrates that at least in some cases overt relativizers are optional, relative pronouns occur frequently, as in the somewhat closely related variety of San Martín Duraznos (Ventayol-Boada 2021).  4.4.3 Summary  Table 4.7 provides a summary of the strategies used by all participants to linguistically navigate the reference to the container portrayed in the stimulus. # Participant Referent Strategy Item 1 Ntsìvá’yi (44) container loan, Sp. váso ‘cup’ 2 Yìvì Tsióó (36) container loan, Sp. váso ‘cup’ 3a Tsǐnâ Yaa (17) container loan, Sp. kájà ‘box’ 3b Tsǐnâ Yaa (17) container loan, Sp. vídriò ‘glass’ (material) 4a Tùtsiayì (24) container loan, Sp. váso ‘cup’ 4b Tùtsiayì (24) container native yaxǐn ‘jicara gourd cup’ 5 Kàjvǎ Tsìkǒxìjǐ (22) container native kǎ à ‘steel’ as though a tank 6 Ntsi’ì (16) container relative clause, native and Sp. loan material ñà’a [chìkaa-nà…sápo lo’o yó’ò__] ‘thing [they put the toad in __]’ 7a Tsìkiva (21) container native nchìxa’àn ‘ceramic cooking bowl’ 7b Tsìkiva (21) contents native tsikuǐi ‘water’ 8 Itâ Tsìndoo (41) contents native tsikuǐi ‘water’ 9 Kaneki (16) contents native síkui ‘toad’ Table 4.7. Strategies for referring to the container in the frog story task.  Three participants referred to the container twice, making a total of 12 references. Of those, nine were references to the container, while three referred to its contents. The container references include eight direct references to the container and one circumlocution in the form of a generic relative clause with ñà’a ‘thing’. Most direct references involved Spanish loanwords, and three of those five loanword references used the borrowing váso. One of the mentions was later recast by the participant, Tùtsiayì, using the native lexeme yaxǐn. None of the native lexemes used in direct reference to the container was repeated by another participant, highlighting the linguistic creativity exercised in applying native lexemes   124 to the container. All three references to the contents of the container used native lexical items: two were to the water, tsikuǐi and one was to the frog (síkui ‘toad’). A striking fact that emerges from the data is that several speakers who experienced monolingual language development, including Ntsìvá’yi in example (7) above, unproblematically use the loanword váso. This suggests that younger speakers’ hesitation in their lexical search is unlikely solely attributable to the novelty or odd shape of the container. Instead, I posit that ideologies of linguistic purism (see Chapter 3) and the experimental setting made them hyperconscious of avoiding Spanish loanwords as a consequence of the observer’s paradox (Labov 1972). In the next section I turn to stylistic repetition as an example of loanword integration into a language without diminishing valued discourse practices and verbal art. This part of the analysis provides counterevidence to widely held beliefs that loanword usage signals the loss of a language. Thus, the following examples and discussion hold important lessons for multilingual translanguaging youth to claim space for their languaging practices, expressiveness, and creativity in language maintenance efforts.  4.5 Stylistic repetition Stylistic repetition is a feature of traditional, elaborated discourse styles and verbal art (e.g., Epps et al. 2023); its presence in the dataset indicates that such styles can be maintained in diaspora. Further, the incorporation of loanwords in such high registers of discourse practice highlights that loanwords do not necessarily undermine language maintenance or lead to language loss. As I discussed in §4.1.1, language contact and the resulting practice of   125 mutually sharing lexical items have been defining features of the Mesoamerican linguistic area stretching back to pre-Columbian times.  Example (7) is repeated here as example (11) with its larger discourse context to show Ntsìvá’yi’s stylistic repetition in his frog story.    11) Stylistic repetition (Ntsìvá’yi, 44) [01:13] Tsiaa ika tsiin-rà-rí nì.| Tsiin-rà-rí ra, |chiika-rà-rí inî váso lo’o, chiika-rà-rí inî. ‘Then he grabbed it (the frog). He grabbed it and he put it inside a small jar. He   put it inside’. 1  tsiaa  ika  tsìin-rà-rí     nì then  there  PFV.grab-3M-3ANML  DM ‘then he grabbed it’ 2  tsìin-rà-rí     ra PFV.grab-3M-3ANML  DM ‘he grabbed it and’ 3  chìkaa-rà-rí    inî   váso  lo’o PFV.put-3M-3ANML  inside  cup  small ‘he put it inside a small jar’ 4  chìkaa-rà-rí    inî PFV.put-3M-3ANML  inside ‘he put it inside ___’    126 Ntsìvá’yi’s repetitions in this example differ from those of Ntsi’ì in example (10). The intonation units, pieces of information contained within identifiable prosodic contours (Chafe 1994), of Ntsi’ì’s repetitions are marked by truncated boundaries and long pauses, indicating a lexical search before committing to a relative clause. Ntsìvá’yi’s repetitions, on the other hand, are stylistic in nature. He repeats each clause with slight syntactic variations, providing cohesion to his narrative by adding coherence to referents and event progression. Lines 1–2 in particular are similar to head-tail linkage (e.g., Obert 2021), but unlike that phenomenon these lines do not alter the syntactic roles of constituents. Instead, Ntsìvá’yi varies the discourse markers in each repetition to establish an event and then indicate its sequencing with respect to subsequent events or actions.  Lines 3–4 bear the markings of what has been called a “frame tag” in another related Mesoamerican language, San Juan Quiahije Chatino (Cruz 2014). In these constructions, a clause is repeated except for a final constituent. This can be seen in line 4 when Ntsìvá’yi ends by saying chiika-rà-rí inî ‘he put it inside__’, omitting the NP váso lo’o ‘small jar’ that was mentioned in the original iteration of the clause in line 3. As in San Juan Quiahije Chatino, this style of verbal art is used in formal as well as everyday speech. Example (12) illustrates a frame tag in San Juan Quiahije Chatino (Cruz 2014: 181) in the form of a triplet, the last line of which is the frame tag. Following such a sequence, the blank tag indicates ‘many different types’ of the category established by the preceding elements listed in the focus of the construction.       127 12)    Frame          Focus   Frame   Focus   1 qne42-kqu2 wa42   [kweq42],  We raised  [pigs], COMPL-care we(EXCL)  pig 2 qne42 kqu2 wa42    [pi20],   We raised  [turkeys], COMPL-care we(EXCL)  turkey 3 qne42 kqu2 wa42    [______].  We raised  [______]. COMPL-care we(EXCL)   ‘We raised all sorts of domestic animals’  While Ntsìvá’yi’s repetitive structuring of his speech does not perfectly match either head-tail linkage or a frame tag, it resembles formal and/or functional aspects of each.  It is also part of a broader repertoire of verbal art practices utilizing repetitive structures that have been noted in other Tu’un Savi languages, such as the parallelisms and difrasismo lexical pairs in the tsa’vi ritual speech of San Juan Mixtepec (Nieves 2012). Taken as a whole, Ntsìvá’yi’s stylistic repetition is a form of verbal art that highlights his narrative performance as an example of skillful Tù’un Sàjvǐ use. This skilled performance is carried out by a member of the adult generation who experienced monolingual language development and continues to speak Tù’un Sàjvǐ in most contexts, and strikingly, this performance includes loanwords. This example thus demonstrates that linguistic borrowing is compatible with the maintenance of highly elaborate traditional discourse genres in Tù’un Sàjvǐ.  4.6 Discussion   128 The previous section illustrated the range of strategies that participants used to refer to the container depicted in the frog story stimulus materials. Importantly, in one of these examples Ntsìvá’yi, a member of the adult generation, unproblematically used the loanword váso, while younger speakers treated the referent as problematic. By embedding this loanword in a stylistically elaborated discourse register, Ntsìvá’yi demonstrated that the loanword is solidly incorporated into his lexicon. Either the word’s Spanish origin was opaque to him or he was not particularly concerned with conforming to ideological standards of language purism, at least with respect to this lexical item. Younger multilinguals, on the other hand, appeared acutely aware that the word originates from Spanish and demonstrated some uncertainty about using it in this discourse context. Ntsìvá’yi’s hybrid performance demonstrates that Spanish loanwords are not incompatible with skilled use of traditional Tù’un Sàjvǐ registers. In doing so, it problematizes the belief that loanwords and translanguaging practices necessarily call into question an individual’s language proficiency or validity of their language. Thus, these examples can provide multilingual youth with an alternative narrative that affirms their speakerhood, assuages potential linguistic insecurity, and supports them in developing their multilingual practices with creativity, agency, and confidence.  4.7 Conclusion This chapter has presented a qualitative study of variation in the use and avoidance of loanwords in Tù’un Sàjvǐ discourse across nine individuals within an extended family who represent different age groups, immigration generations, multilingual experiences, and proficiencies. The elicited narrative discourse analyzed here focuses on moments in which   129 participants encounter an opportunity to use a Spanish loanword. The linguistic patterns of younger participants in particular reveal strategies for managing competing expectations and pressures around linguistic purity, speakerhood, and language mixing. The ideologies examined in Chapter 3 illustrate the ideological backdrop against which these moments of translanguaging play out and shed light on the ways in which loanwords can be conceived as problematic, particularly in contexts interpreted as having an expectation for monolingual performance. As opportunities to engage in translanguaging practices, these moments in the stimulus materials present participants with a decision of whether or not to draw upon linguistic resources from a language other than Tù’un Sàjvǐ to refer to objects without a native name. In the instances presented here, even established loanwords unproblematically employed by members of the adult generation are not taken up by members of the teenager generation. This demonstrates a sensitivity to widespread ideologies according to which language mixing invalidates a speaker’s Tù’un Sàjvǐ and, more drastically, even contributes to language shift and language loss. Moreover, participants demonstrate deep linguistic knowledge and creativity in navigating these linguistic decisions.  Furthermore, adult use of loanwords has the potential to problematize the belief that loanwords necessarily lead to language shift. As shown when a member of the adult generation used a loanword in the context of skillful narrative performance, loanword usage does not endanger Tù’un Sàjvǐ use or structure. Tu’un Savi languages have been in contact with Spanish for hundreds of years and with numerous Indigenous Mesoamerican languages before that. Language contact and lexical and structural borrowing are not unique to the US context in which transnational diaspora community members find themselves. In fact, evidence of language contact is a defining feature of Mesoamerica as a linguistic area.    130 The diaspora linguistics framework that I proposed in Chapter 1 calls for a holistic approach to understanding people’s languaging practices, drawing from multiple linguistic subfields. Instead of pathologizing perspectives that focus on difference and deficiency, diaspora linguistics views variation as communicative richness and acknowledges the sociocultural, linguistic-structural, and historical factors that underlie it. In doing so, diaspora linguistics embraces agency and creativity in multilingual and translanguaging practices in language reclamation, focusing on language vitality and identity maintenance as part of pursuing social justice (e.g., Uliasz 2018) and wellbeing (e.g., Taff et al. 2018), which go hand in hand with linguistic and cultural robustness.  As an example of integrating research with the applied outcomes called for in a diaspora linguistics approach, the following chapter describes a potential lesson plan for multilingual community youth. As I discuss there, the data and analysis in the present chapter can be useful tools for valorizing the linguistic practices and proficiencies of youth, supporting their linguistic self-determination, and furthering community-wide goals of language maintenance in the United States.  The findings and implications of the analysis presented in this chapter is but one use for this corpus of frog and pear stories. Additional discourse-level features and phonetic, phonological, and morphosyntactic variation present themselves for future investigation. These include referent tracking, information structure, clause types, verbal inflection, number and transitivity distinctions on verbs, and discourse markers in event structure, progression, and cohesion. More detailed analysis of these features can shed further light on the linguistic variation within the Ñuu Savi diaspora community and support pedagogical and instructional aspects of language maintenance efforts being undertaken by community member linguists.    131 CHAPTER 5 Conclusion: Using diaspora linguistics to support the linguistic self-determination of youth in the Ñuu Savi diaspora  In the preceding chapters I have outlined a diaspora linguistics framework for research within Indigenous diaspora settings (Chapter 1) and described the ethnographic context and language situation in which California Ñuu Savi language maintenance goals emerged, which in turn motivated the diaspora linguistics framework (Chapter 2). I analyzed open-ended responses to a large community language survey to illustrate ideologies about multilingualism that circulate in the wider community and then connected them to individual linguistic experiences and migration histories within an extended family in the diasporic community on California’s Central Coast (Chapter 3). Against this ideological backdrop, I analyzed variation in loanword usage across generations of the same family (Chapter 4). The present chapter summarizes and draws upon the findings of the previous chapters to outline a hypothetical lesson plan designed for multilingual Indigenous youth in a community setting to explore ideologies about loanwords and language mixing. The broader goals of this lesson plan are to valorize young people’s linguistic proficiencies and to support their linguistic self-determination. In describing the lesson plan, I reflexively consider the role of non-community member academic researchers and educators like myself in making recommendations about language maintenance in a community-centered research collaboration.   5.1 Main findings   132 This section summarizes the main findings from Chapters 2 through 4 before turning to the sample lesson plan in the following section.   5.1.1 Survey findings In Chapter 2, I shared some preliminary results from a recent large community language survey carried out by the MILPA research team in 2018-2020 that illustrate aspects of the demographic makeup and language situation of the Indigenous diaspora community in the Central Coast region of California. Out of 484 interviews, around two-thirds were conducted in Spanish. Nearly one-third were conducted in a Tu’un Savi language, while fewer than 5% contained any English. Multiple languages were used in a small number of surveys, either Tu’un Savi and Spanish or Spanish and English.  The results of the 424 coded surveys show that multilingualism is prevalent, with 92.69% of respondents indicating that they speak Spanish. Another 74.76% report speaking a Tu’un Savi language. English is less commonly spoken, at 30.42%. Otomí is spoken by 2.59% of respondents and Zapotec by 2.36%. An “other” category accounts for 3.54% of the respondents, with languages including P’urhépecha/Tarasco, Nahuatl/Mexicano, Mixe, and Huave. The 60 uncoded surveys were conducted in Tu’un Savi and would likely have the effect of raising the percentage of Tu’un Savi speakers while slightly decreasing the percentages of other languages, including Spanish and English. When interviewees were asked about the languages spoken within their households, most of the percentages stayed the same, with the exception of English. Whereas 30.42% of respondents reported speaking English, 56.84% reported that English was spoken within their home. This suggests a much greater degree of contact with English in the home than   133 anticipated by the research team. I hypothesize that this increased frequency of English can be attributed to younger children. As language shift from an Indigenous language to Spanish and then to English takes place in an age-graded manner, younger children become more likely to communicate with one another in English (e.g., Fishman 1991). It appears that respondents interpreted the question to refer to the languages used in the home and not just languages that are known by household members but used in other contexts. This inference is suggested by the fact that respondents reported speaking some languages that were not reported among the languages spoken in the home (e.g., Mixe). Similarly, a higher percentage of respondents report knowing how to speak Spanish than report Spanish being spoken in their home. Thus, it appears that community members may use languages outside of the home that they do not speak with members of their household. Of the 484 survey respondents, 432 are Na Savi (372 based on self-identification plus 60 uncoded interviews conducted in Tu’un Savi). Of those, 377 identified themselves or can be classified as current speakers of Tu’un Savi (317 through self-identification in coded surveys plus 60 uncoded surveys in Tu’un Savi). Respondents specified a geographic affiliation for their Tu’un Savi variety in 321 cases (out of 372). These represent at least 60 towns within 27 different municipalities, corresponding to 6 of the Tu’un Savi subgroups proposed by Josserand (1983). Varieties from the municipality of San Martín Peras account for almost half of self-identified Tu’un Savi speakers (139). The next most frequently mentioned variety was San Martín Duraznos, with 23 responses. Of the seven most frequently spoken varieties, five are in Josserand’s (1983) Southern Baja subgroup and range from 139 to 8 respondents.  Responses also show that Ñuu Savi community members consider it very important to maintain their language. When asked how important it was to them personally to speak   134 Tu’un Savi, 85.53% indicated a high level of importance. When asked how important they felt it was for their current or potential future children to speak Tu’un Savi, 70.98% again indicated a high level of importance. While the frequency of “high level of importance” responses was lower for children’s language maintenance than for respondents’ own language maintenance, the figure is still quite high. Additionally, people without children may not have responded regarding hypothetical future children as the format of the question intended, because the “no answer” responses grew from 5.97% to 20.82% when respondents were asked about themselves compared to their children.  5.1.2 Ideologies of multilingualism My analysis of open-ended responses from the community language survey revealed ideologies circulating within the community about youth language practices, speakerhood, and language mixing. One key ideology that emerged was the association of youth with speaking English and Spanish, but not Tu’un Savi. When youth do speak Tu’un Savi, it is perceived as different or deficient, although the nature of this difference or deficiency is not specified in concrete terms. Overall, the open-ended survey responses reveal an expectation of monolingual-like linguistic performance underlying notions of speakerhood and Tu’un Savi proficiency. I built on these findings by analyzing responses to a family language questionnaire administered to nine members of an extended family in the community. The analysis indicated a connection between migration history, language development, language use, and ideology. In particular, I showed that the point along a family’s migration trajectory in which a child is born as well as the child’s own migration experience emerge as important factors in   135 the child’s language development and linguistic repertoire. Moreover, participants’ linguistic experience informed the ideological stance from which they reported their language usage and assigned speakerhood to others.  Those who experienced monolingual language development, including adults and late sequential multilingual children, demonstrated coordinate multilingual behavior and were less likely to acknowledge the Tu’un Savi proficiency of younger multilinguals who experienced bilingual development at an early age. On the other hand, the teenager group within the child generation experienced early sequential bilingual development and fit a compound multilingual profile. This group assigned Tu’un Savi speakerhood to the youngest children in their family (who did not participate in this research) and reported being more likely to use their full linguistic repertoire with interlocutors. The youngest children experienced early simultaneous bilingual development and were not acknowledged to have any Tu’un Savi proficiency by family members who had experienced monolingual language development. Importantly, these factors are dependent on individual experience. The preceding findings are based on a single extended family, and every family has a different history and experience of migration. While the repertoires and ideologies represented in this family are likely to be fairly representative of the broader community, they may not be comprehensive of all experiences, and the specific ways in which they stratify across generations may not look the same in every family. Furthermore, the community of origin from which the first generation migrates is likely to influence how factors of age, migration, language, and ideology play out, based on their language experience and the status of language shift and maintenance in that community.    136 5.1.3 Loanwords My final set of findings concern loanword use among the nine extended family members, based on a corpus of semi-structured narratives using a storyboard methodology with Frog, Where Are You? and the Pear Film. My analysis of loanword usage showed that participants in each age group (parent generation, young adults in the child generation, and teenagers within the child generation) used at least one loanword type and multiple tokens in their narratives, but that the frequency of loanword type and token was inversely correlated with the age of the participant. Some loanwords were used by members of every group (e.g., pera ‘pear’, sápò ‘toad’, ventána ‘window’), but none were used by every participant. Similarly, none of the loanwords occurring only in the narratives of one group were used by every member of that group. Thus, loanword usage is a shared but largely idiosyncratic practice. Loanwords used only Spanish lexical material, but one case, vídriò, also involved semantic expansion on the basis of English glass to refer both to glass material and to a cup-like container. Verbal loans were overall infrequent but occurred most often among the teenage generation of children. The only construction using a verbal loan in a narrative of a member of the parent generation filled an aspectual rather than a predicative function (kìxa segui ‘still continuing to X’, formed by Tù’un Sàjvǐ kixa/kasa ‘do’ and Spanish seguir ‘continue’).  The example of the jar depicted in the storyboards for the frog stories highlights the range of strategies that participants used to refer to objects without a clear conventionalized name. The 12 references to the jar fell into two broad groups: references to the jar itself and references to its presumed contents. The references also varied in whether they used native lexical material or Spanish loans. Nine of the instances were in reference to the container. Of those, five were Spanish loanwords, three of which were instances of váso (Sp. vaso ‘cup’).   137 Three of the nine references to the jar applied native lexical items for various types of containers or dishes. The final reference to the jar was a circumlocution using a relative clause, in which native lexical items were used for the nominal head and most of the lexical material within the relative clause. The borrowed form sápò (Sp. sapo ‘toad’) was also used in the relative clause. All three references to the presumed contents of the jar used native lexical items: tsikuǐi ‘water’ twice and síkui ‘toad’ once. I also showed in my analysis that some of the participants in the teenager generation of children treated the referent as problematic, as evidenced by pauses, repetitions, and recasts. This was not the case for members of the parent generation, who unproblematically deployed the loanword váso. One of these instances occurred within the context of stylistic repetition, a type of verbal art which bears similarities to other forms of verbal art throughout Mesoamerica (e.g., Cruz 2014). These findings demonstrate that loanwords and translanguaging practices do not necessarily correspond to low linguistic competence. Such insights are important in applying diaspora linguistics research to language maintenance initiatives.  5.2 Applying research: A lesson plan for multilingual youth Diaspora linguistics develops from a community-based framework of collaborative language work. Thus, a central tenet of diaspora linguistics is pursuing relevant applied research and avoiding extractive data collection practices intended only to answer theoretical academic questions without addressing community goals for their language. In this section, I describe one example of such an applied research outcome: a proposed lesson plan for the youth-focused component of MILPA, Tequio SKILLS, an educational program designed for   138 community youth. The lesson plan draws on several of Wyman’s (2012: 274–275) guidelines for working with youth in Indigenous communities experiencing language shift. These include 1) pushing back on ideologies that position youth as speakers only of either the heritage language or the colonial language(s) rather than both; 2) highlighting multilingual practices, multiple generations, and young people’s relationality in their local family and community contexts; and 3) relating historical and contemporary language practices to forms of linguistic survivance within critical language pedagogies and imagining potential futures for the exercise of linguistic self-determination (see also Wyman et al. 2013). It is important to emphasize, however, that these orientations may not align with the ideologies and goals of all community members and that great care should be taken to consult with partners and constituencies involved in collaborative language work. Having previously taught a sociocultural linguistics curriculum to community youth as a graduate teaching fellow in UCSB’s sociolinguistic and educational justice program, SKILLS (Bucholtz et al. 2014), the lesson plan I discuss is based in the SKILLS program’s philosophy of culturally sustaining pedagogy (Bucholtz et al. 2017). Some of the principles that the SKILLS program is rooted in include accompanying youth in drawing upon their linguistic and cultural expertise in research and action projects, valorizing their linguistic practices and knowledge, and supporting them to agentively make their own decisions about their linguistic practices (Bucholtz et al. 2018). This hypothetical lesson plan is not the only way to approach youth-centered research applications for language maintenance in a diaspora context. It is first and foremost a conversation starter for young people and is designed to inspire students’ curiosity about language and confidence in their linguistic practices. Care should be exercised to avoid imposing the facilitators’ language ideologies into the language   139 maintenance agenda of the community, especially if the instructors are not themselves community members. To do so would be at odds with the principle of self-determination and may cause conflict, which may in turn impede the development of community-wide language maintenance initiatives. Although the lesson plan is designed with youth in mind, it may be a useful conversation starter in MILPA’s workshops with community linguists and community members as well. This tool can facilitate ideological clarification around maintenance goals and ideals (Dauenhauer & Dauenhauer 1998), and can shed light on these issues for lesson plan facilitators so that points of disagreement or contention can be navigated with due care.   5.2.1 School Kids Investigating Language in Life and Society (SKILLS) School Kids Investigating Language in Life and Society (SKILLS) is an academic outreach and educational justice program jointly directed by UCSB faculty, Mary Bucholtz, Jin Sook Lee, and Dolores Inés Casillas, in the departments of Linguistics, Education, and Chicana/o Studies, respectively. Teams of graduate students design and teach college-level sociocultural linguistics curricula in area schools and after-school programs. In some iterations, the program provides free units of college credit and opportunities to visit a local university; all versions of SKILLS include opportunities for students to present their original research in a university or community forum. In the 2015-16 school year, SKILLS was taught for the first time with Indigenous Mexican youth as part of MILPA.  In the Santa Barbara area, SKILLS predominantly serves students who are Latinx and speak Spanish or have Spanish as a heritage language. Thus, the curricular focus on youth-centered research and language valorization has tended to address the following issues in a Spanish-English bilingual framing: language mixing, Spanglish, youth linguistic innovation   140 and slang, linguistic standardization and power, educational contexts, language brokering, linguistic insecurity, language and identity, linguistic racialization, heritage language, and language ideologies. In the context of the Indigenous Mesoamerican community in Ventura and Santa Barbara counties, many of the topics remained the same but shifted to encompass a multilingual experience that included Indigenous languages, colonialism and decolonization, power dynamics between Spanish and Indigenous languages in the broader community, Indigenous pride, the structure of Mesoamerican languages, and language shift and maintenance. I co-taught in the SKILLS program three times: once in a Santa Barbara-area high school in 2017 and twice with the MICOP-affiliated youth group in 2018 and 2019. When I taught SKILLS at MICOP, my teaching team and I developed additional curricular emphases on orthographic practices and visibility for Indigenous languages in online spaces (see, e.g., Lillehaugen 2016), intervarietal communication and intelligibility, collaborating with family members on language projects, as well as survey methods so that youth could participate in data collection for the community language survey (see Chapter 2).  A core pedagogical principle of the SKILLS program is centering youth researchers as linguistic and cultural experts as they develop and carry out their own individual research and action projects. The teaching team avoids engaging in models of unilateral knowledge delivery and instead practices accompaniment (Bucholtz et al. 2016), engaging with students in a discovery-based learning process in which students participate in knowledge creation by making connections between social processes and their own observations of linguistic phenomena. This approach is especially important from my position as an instructor who is not a member of the community and who does not share the linguistic or lived experience of   141 students. While some may find it validating to receive positive messages about their languages from a university-affiliated language researcher, there are potential problems with top-down teaching about students’ own languages and linguistic practices. In addition to this being at odds with my teaching philosophy of student-led discovery and knowledge production, my ideological and analytic stances may be an imposition upon students that de-centers them and their expertise. Worse yet, if my statements are at odds with students’ own experiences, they may feel alienated from their languages or from the classroom. Both of these latter issues are common experiences of racialized students in educational contexts that SKILLS seeks to redress. Furthermore, ideological clarification and language planning are matters for community-level negotiation and self-determination. It would be wholly inappropriate, and frankly ineffective, for me or any other outsider to suggest that certain beliefs about language are better than others. Thus, the following discussion aims to provide starting points for student-led discussion while avoiding ideological or analytic imposition.   5.2.2 Lesson plan components The learning goals of the proposed lesson plan are to address potential negative ideologies about code-switching and loanwords and to create the opportunity for students to generate alternative framings of these linguistic phenomena within a justice-centered perspective. Multiple forms of disciplinary and community knowledge are interwoven in language work with youth in Indigenous language shift contexts (Wyman 2012). Highlighting the linguistic skill and creativity found in such practices may alleviate potential linguistic insecurity and build linguistic confidence. In a semester-long course or other educational context, addressing affective and motivational concerns can be an important step   142 in preparing students to undertake a language-related project. Validating students’ linguistic knowledge and expertise may encourage them to use their language with a broader range of interlocutors, including in public and online spaces, to increase the visibility of the language and the Indigenous community. Whether or not students experience linguistic insecurity, the following examples and discussion prompts surrounding language and ideology are an important starting point for inviting young people to explore how they use and think about language. As part of a semester-long course, this lesson builds on earlier class meetings about Tu’un Savi language maintenance; linguistic structure, especially phonology (both segmental and tonal); and the development of orthographic conventions.  There are six phases of the proposed lesson plan: 1) a warm-up activity; 2) a discussion of loanwords  and their functions; 3) an activity about loanwords, language ideologies, and linguistic knowledge, illustrated by the frog story data from Chapter 4; 4) histories of language contact in Mesoamerica and in English; 5) a closing reflection or free-write, generating ideas for the final action project.  In the first phase, the lesson begins with open-ended questions to prompt student conversation and brainstorming (Figure 5.1). If undergraduate student mentors are part of the teaching team, they can facilitate, join groups to help stimulate conversation and provide examples from their own experience, or contribute to an open discussion. In recapping students’ ideas with the whole class, it may be useful to keep on the board a list of loanwords and Spanglish forms that class members mention, or have students write them on the board themselves.   143 Figure 5.1. Warm-up discussion prompts for phase 1 of lesson plan.   The second phase of the lesson plan introduces several groups of loanwords that students may not recognize as such (Figures 5.2 through 5.4). Many of these words have multiple levels of borrowing. It will depend on the facilitator, the students, and the discussion activity how much detail to go into.        Discussion starters   ● Do you ever hear people use more than one language at the same time? Do you ever do this yourself? ● What does this sound like? Can you think of any examples? (Students can combine any languages: English and Spanish, Spanish and Tu’un Savi, English and Zapoteco, etc.) ○ Switching between languages in an utterance ○ At sentence boundaries ○ Incorporating single words from one language into another ○ Spanglish, pero like, … ● What do people say about this way of talking? Do the opinions of elders, adults, young people, teens, or children differ? ● What do you think about this practice? Why do you think people do this? ● If you personally engage in this practice, how do you feel when you do it? Do you change this behavior or the languages you mix depending on the setting and the person you’re talking to? ● How do the opinions people voice about this practice make you feel about your language abilities? Do you ever experience linguistic insecurity or avoid using a language with certain people (or anyone) because of this practice? ● (Instructors introduce the terms code-switching and loanword)    144  Figure 5.2. Examples of loanwords in English for phase 2 of lesson plan.         Figure 5.3. Examples of loanwords in Spanish and Spanglish as well as loanwords shared between Spanish and English for phase 2 of lesson plan.     English  • Art • Canyon • Breeze • Ranch • Vanilla • Barbeque • Salsa • Beef • Kindergarten • Psychology • Long time no see • Schmutz • An apron (< a napron) • Alligator (<el lagarto) Spanish, Spanglish  • Ojalá • Parquear • Lonche • Pero like  Shared Spanish and English  • Café/coffee • Té/tea • Azúcar/sugar • Computadora/computer    145                               Figure 5.4. Examples of loanwords from Indigenous languages for phase 2 of lesson plan.   After sharing these examples with students, the instructors invite students to begin thinking analytically about them by asking the questions in Figure 5.5.       Indigenous languages  Into Spanish (and many from Spanish into English)  • Tequio • Cacao, chocolate • Mapache • Coyote • Jalapeño (<Xalapan) • Aguacate, guacamole, mole • Mezcal • Nopal • Chili, chipotle • Tomate • Barbacoa • Canoa • Hamaca  Into English  • Chipmunk • Moose • Possum/opossum • Hominy • Pecan • Squash • Powwow • Many place names (e.g., Port Hueneme, Ojai, Anacapa Island)   146      Figure 5.5. Analytic discussion questions for phase 2 of lesson plan.  The third phase of the lesson plan opens by introducing the storybook Frog, Where Are You? and showing students the storyboard pages that depict the jar discussed in Chapter 4 (Figure 4.4). Have students work in narrator-transcriber pairs to experience the frog story. One student narrates the frog story while the other takes note of the way the narrator refers to certain objects on a worksheet guide. The instructors then ask students the brainstorming questions in Figure 5.6 and report on what they noticed during their paired activity.      Figure 5.6. Introductory brainstorming questions for the jar in the frog story in phase 3 of the lesson plan.   Next, the instructors show the list of examples from Chapter 4 of all the different ways people referred to the object (Table 4.7) and play the audio clips of several examples. The instructors may need to ask students to volunteer to explain the examples, as some students Analytic discussion Questions  • What are some reasons that speakers of different languages might borrow each other’s words? What kinds of words are borrowed in each of the sets? • What are some words from other languages that you hear people use in ___ (Tu’un Savi, Otomí, Zapoteco)? Brainstorming questions  • As we just saw, some things don’t have a name in one language and so speakers may borrow a word from another language to talk about it. Look at this object in this story. What would you call this or how would you refer to it? • How would you refer to it in the context of speaking each of your languages?    147 may not understand Tu’un Savi or the specific variety in the recording. Then students are asked to answer the questions in Figure 5.7. As students describe the different reference strategies in the data, the instructors group their responses by strategy type (reference to the container or to its contents, using loanwords or native material, etc.). In reflecting on speakers’ motivations for these strategies, students may refer to ideological concerns of linguistic purism or infer uncertainty from some speakers’ pauses and restarts.         Figure 5.7. Analytic and reflection discussion questions for phase 3 of lesson plan.  Regardless of whether students display openness to rethinking the function or purpose of code-switching and loanwords, instructors should highlight the linguistic aspects of each type of strategy and point out the knowledge, skill, and creativity that it requires (Figure 5.8).    Analytic and reflection questions  • What strategy did each narrator use? • For each strategy type, ask why they think that person used that strategy. • Considering all of these different ways to refer to this one single object (9 examples from Chapter 4, plus those that students brainstormed), is it realistic to expect everyone to use the same word for things all the time? Do you think there are better or worse word choices in this case, or are they just different? • What do you think about the idea that bilingual people should speak each of their languages like a monolingual (the two monolinguals in one brain model)? Is it realistic to keep your languages separated at all times? When is it useful to mix your languages?    148             Figure 5.8. Points of linguistic knowledge in reference strategies to highlight in phase 3 of lesson plan.   The fourth phase of the lesson returns to the list of options for referring to the container in the frog story. Instructors ask students why they think some people used loanwords and others did not (Figure 5.9).       Figure 5.9. Questions to reflect and reorient to age-based ideologies of linguistic difference and variation in loanword use for phase 4 of lesson plan.   Instructor key points  • Drawing on loanwords requires linguistic knowledge and proficiency of each language system o Knowledge of word classes and appropriate morphology in each language o Knowledge of phonology to make a Spanish word sound Mixtec (some sounds aren’t used in Tu’un Savi, need to fit syllable structure and account for tone) o Semantic mapping, expansion • Applying existing native words in novel ways o Semantic expansion and linguistic creativity § E.g., neologisms and coining new words with native lexical material § Mandarin: diànhuà (electric + speech) ‘phone’ § Mandarin: diànnǎo (electric + brain) ‘computer’ § Ask students to share examples from languages they know • Relative clause o Syntactically complex with more structural rules than other types of clauses o Requires a lot more words to stand in for a single noun  Reflection questions  • What kinds of people in general are considered more likely to use loanwords and combine their languages? • Why do you think adults used similar words to refer to the container more than other people? • What do you think are some possible explanations for this pattern?   149 Instructors then call attention to Ntsìvá’yi’s narrative from Chapter 4, example (12) and ask students about the stylistic repetition he uses (Figure 5.10).      Figure 5.10. Discussion questions about stylistic repetition for phase 4 of lesson plan.   The instructors explain in simple terms that Ntsìvá’yi is using a form of stylistic storytelling and verbal art that provides discursive cohesion by clarifying how events relate to one another temporally. They tell students that this style resembles the everyday and formal verbal art of Mesoamerica and is found in other languages as well. They then ask students the following questions:       Figure 5.11. Discussion and reflection questions on loanword usage in verbal art for phase 4 of lesson plan.   To close this phase of the lesson plan, instructors should share some details from Chapter 4 about the Indigenous languages of Mesoamerica constituting a linguistic area and Discussion questions  • What do you notice about Ntsìvá’yi’s style of speaking?  • Have you heard this style of speaking before?   • Who do you know who speaks this way?  • Do you recognize the function of this style of speaking? Discussion and reflection questions  • What does it mean for someone like Ntsìvá’yi to use a loanword in this respected style of speech? • Does using a loanword make his speech style less skilled or less authentic? • How do you feel about incorporating loanwords and code-switching practices into Indigenous language usage? Are there cases when you think it is okay and not okay?   150 what this means. In this discussion, it should be highlighted that one of the main criteria supporting this proposal is the abundant sharing of lexical items and semantic calques across languages, which reveals that linguistic contact and word sharing lie deep in the linguistic history of Mesoamerica.         Figure 5.12. Discussion questions about loanwords from the perspective of historical language contact for phase 4 of the lesson plan.   Finally, in the fifth phase of the lesson, instructors open up a space for reflection and brainstorming, either as a discussion or free-write activity. Some potential prompts for inspiration are included in Figure 5.13. Instructors end the lesson by emphasizing that mixing languages does not invalidate one’s linguistic knowledge and proficiencies, that it can be part of a rich multilingual repertoire and skill set, and that ultimately each individual can have their own stance on these practices and decide for themselves how they want to use their languages, whether separately or together.      Discussion questions  • Considering that language contact and lexical borrowing run deeply through the linguistic history of Mesoamerican languages and have contributed to what they are today, what do you think the role of language contact and lexical borrowing is in the contemporary phase of these languages? • Do you feel differently toward borrowing words from other Indigenous languages vs from Spanish?   151              Figure 5.13. Example final reflection prompts for closing phase 5 of the lesson plan.   The lesson plan described in detail here is an example of how to mobilize the tools, methods, and insights of diaspora linguistics in order to center the perspectives and goals of multilingual youth. Designed in the context of the SKILLS curriculum, the lesson plan seeks to valorize young people’s language use while raising critical awareness about language practices and attitudes related to multilingualism. The lesson plan also seeks to advance the goals of language reclamation; that is, individual and community assertion of the right to claim, learn, and speak their languages (Leonard 2011: 141, 154, 2012: 359).    5.3 Conclusion Final reflection prompts  • Has your opinion about loanwords and code-switching changed from the beginning of today’s class to the end? How so? Why or why not? • What do you think about people’s ideas and statements about what makes some speech/language “good” vs less good? • Do you enjoy code-switching and combining your languages? Do you enjoy it when others do so? Why or why not? • What do you think it means for language to be authentic? Can language change and borrow words from other languages and still remain authentic? How does this connect to your experience with language in various contexts (California, Mexico, home, school, with friends, and any others)? • Do loanwords harm language maintenance? Is it possible for loanwords to help someone maintain their language? • What actions can you take to make space for multilingual practices in your community? Is there a way that you want to incorporate this into a project? • If you have observed any of these multilingual phenomena among younger family members, what message do you want them to know about their language practices? Are there ways you can validate their linguistic skills and encourage them in language maintenance?   152 As illustrated by the lesson plan described in this chapter, diaspora linguistics is an orientation to reciprocal, applied, and ethical research that emerges from years-long ongoing community-centered research collaboration between academic and community linguists (some of whom are both academic and community linguists). As such, it is anchored in a sustained relationship that is interdisciplinary and inclusive, in which academic researchers engage with community collaborators as equal partners in setting and pursuing the research agenda around their goals for and about their language. In doing so, the approach aims both to generate insights in areas that community team members identify as relevant to their language-related goals and to apply linguistic data and methods in service of those goals (e.g., orthography and literacy development, translation and interpretation, language visibility, education, cultural and ethnobotanical documentation). The applied focus of this research orientation seeks to mobilize both the tools of linguistics and the resources of the university to serve marginalized communities that the discipline has historically relied on for data but has often not treated ethically or equitably (e.g., Auderset et al. 2021). Applied community-centered collaborative research is an important part of reciprocity in research relationships and it has the potential to support language maintenance and linguistic diversity and to advance social justice. By more closely building research agendas around direct community outcomes, the field of linguistics can align with the goals of community collaborators rather than imposing its own agenda.  It is within this broader relational research framework that I have proposed diaspora linguistics in this dissertation and have illustrated its potential in the preceding chapters. This approach emphasizes the role of multilingual youth in language maintenance goals and takes a holistic approach to understanding linguistic structure, variation, ideology, and   153 sociolinguistic context. Taking into account the linguistic practices of multilingual youth and the ideologies that circulate about them and that they hold themselves can inform the focus, development, framing, and delivery of outcomes that are intended for them in a more relevant, accessible, and culturally sustaining way than traditional documentation outputs that represent a purist form of the language based on a monolingual style of speech. Being able to replicate monolingual styles may very well be an objective of some community members, including multilingual youth. But even in such cases, understanding the specific differences in the linguistic practices among community members can form the basis of scaffolded approaches to language development, whether through formal instruction or less formal approaches.  By combining perspectives, methods, and approaches from multiple subfields, diaspora linguistics aims to holistically support language maintenance work within Indigenous diaspora settings. The research and applications presented in this dissertation is motivated by the specific context and goals of the Ñuu Savi community members with which I collaborate in California, but the framework is flexible enough to adapt to the goals and preferred processes of different communities and agendas. The particular subfields I bring together under diaspora linguistics address a range of topics relevant to language maintenance work, but the approach is not rigid or deterministic in how this work is carried out. Additionally, this project has focused on one variety, but is designed to efficiently address a range of issues in language work and applied linguistic outcomes. In this way, it will hopefully serve as a useful framework for approaching work in the local community with other varieties.  While this dissertation proposes diaspora linguistics in the specific context of the Ñuu Savi diaspora and community goals, the framework can be applied to many contexts of   154 language shift and/or language documentation (e.g., Yamada 2007) to promote language maintenance and reclamation. These include contexts of non-Indigenous immigration (e.g., Fishman 1991) as well as Indigenous diaspora (e.g., Pérez Báez 2013, 2014), refugee communities (e.g., Delsooz & Temkin Martinez 2023), situations of urbanization (e.g., Camacho-Rios 2022), and language shift in the homeland of an Indigenous community (e.g., Wyman 2012). As forced migration becomes increasingly common across the world due to massive and ongoing environmental, economic, and political upheaval, it is incumbent upon linguists from all subfields to support displaced communities in their linguistic self-determination and other goals. 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For each level of your education, were you in the U.S. or Mexico? [ ] None [ ] Some primary school [ ] Completed primary school  [ ] Some secondary school [ ] Completed secondary school [ ] Mexican primary equivalency  [ ] Mexican secondary equivalency [ ] GED [ ] Some college (2-year or 4-year)  [ ] Completed community college (for example, Oxnard College or Ventura College) [ ] Completed 4-year college [ ] Coursework for advanced degree  [ ] Completed advanced degree  [ ] Professional or vocational classes  3b. Are you currently in school or taking any classes? If so, what kind of schooling or classes?  3c. What type of work do you do? [ ] Agriculture  [ ] Secretarial [ ] Retail   [ ] Managerial [ ] Food service [ ] Clerical/office work [ ] Construction [ ] Religious [ ] Education  [ ] Interpretation [ ] Child care  [ ] Unemployed [ ] Medical/Health [ ] Other (please specify)  4a. Approximately how often do you attend church or other religious services? [ ] Never      [ ] At least once a month [ ] Hardly ever     [ ] Once a week [ ] Religious holidays only [ ] More than once a week  4b. Which best describes your current religious preference? [ ] Baptist     [ ] Pentecostal [ ] Catholic    [ ] Other Protestant [ ] Charismatic Catholic [ ] Other non-Christian (please specify) [ ] Evangelical Christian [ ] No religion [ ] Jehovah's Witness     177 5. In general, how would you rate your overall quality of life during the last six months?  [ ] Very bad, my life could hardly be worse [ ] Pretty good, most things are going well [ ] Pretty bad, most things are going poorly  [ ] Very good, my life could hardly be better [ ] The good and bad parts are about equal     6a. In what village or town were you born? [Please ask for each level of political organization: U.S.: city, state; Mexico: pueblo, municipio, estado]  6b. If you grew up somewhere other than where you were born, where was it? [Please ask for each level of political organization: U.S.: city, state; Mexico: pueblo, municipio, estado]  7. What other places have you lived, and for how long? [Please ask for each level of political organization: U.S.: city, state; Mexico: pueblo, municipio, estado]  8. How long have you lived in the United States?  9a. Which of the following groups do you consider yourself to belong to? Choose as many as you identify with. You can choose more than one.  i. Mixteco    v. Oaxaqueña/o ii. Zapoteco    vi. Guerrerense iii. Otomí   vii. Poblano iv. Triqui   viii. Indigenous/Indígena  9b. What about the following groups?  i. Mexican   v. Chicanx/a/o  ii. Mexican American  vi. American/estadounidense  iii. Latinx/a/o   vii. Other(s) (please specify)  iv. Hispana/o  10a. What language(s) did you mostly speak as a child? Choose as many as apply.  i. Mixtec (from what village/pueblo and municipio?) ii. Zapotec (from what village/pueblo and municipio?) iii. Otomí (from what village/pueblo and municipio?) iv. Triqui (from what village/pueblo and municipio?) v. Spanish  vi. English  vii. Other(s) (please specify)  10b. When you were a child, with what member(s) of your family did you speak each language that you mentioned?   10c. If you have lived in different places, did you learn to speak the variety or language that was spoken in that place? Please tell me about that.    178 PART 2: LANGUAGE USE  11a. Are you married or do you live with a partner, boyfriend, or girlfriend? 11b. Do you have children? How many? 11c. Without mentioning their names, what are your children's ages? 11d. Do you currently live with one or more of your parents?   12a. What languages do you speak? (If an indigenous language, what pueblo and municipio is each language from.)  12b. At what age did you learn each of these languages, and where?   12c. Do you know how to read or write in any of these languages?  13. Are there any languages that you understand, but can't speak very well? Which ones?  A. Language Use in the Home  14. What languages are used in your household to any extent?  (If an indigenous language, what pueblo and municipio is each language from.)  15a. Who in your household can speak each of these languages?  15b. Who in your household can read and write each of these languages?  16a. What language or languages do you speak with your spouse or partner (if applicable)?  16b. Why do you choose to speak that language with them?  16c. What language or languages do you speak with your parents (if applicable)?  16d. Why do you choose to speak that language with them?  16e. What language or languages do you speak with your children (if applicable)?  16f. Why do you choose to speak that language with them?  16g. What language does your spouse or partner speak with your children (if applicable)?  16h. Why does your spouse or partner choose to speak that language with your children?  16i. What language or languages do you speak with other family members with whom you live currently?    179 17. Do any of the members of your household speak a different language to each other than they speak to you?  18a. Are there any languages that you used to speak (for example, when you were a child), but today you do not speak them very well or at all?   If the answer is “yes”, continue with question 18b. If the answer is “no”, jump to question 19.  18b. Why do you think you stopped speaking this language?   18c. How do you feel about not speaking this language anymore?  19a. Do you ever help other household members with a language they don’t know well by interpreting spoken language or or translating written language for them?  If the answer is “yes”, continue with question 19b. If the answer is “no”, jump to question 20.  19b. Please tell me the following: i. Who do you help with interpreting or translation? ii. What language(s) do you interpret or translate from? iii. What kinds of materials or interactions do you interpret or translate? iv. In what places does this interpreting or translation take place?  (For each language that they report speaking in their home.)   19c. How do you feel when you interpret or translate for this person?  20a. Does another household member ever help you with a language you don’t know well by interpreting or translating either spoken language or writing for you?  If the answer is “yes”, continue with question 20b. If the answer is “no”, jump to question 21.  20b. Please tell me the following: i. Who helps you with interpreting or translation? ii. What language(s) do they interpret or translate from? iii. What kinds of materials or interactions do they interpret or translate? iv. In what places does this interpreting or translation take place?  Don’t forget to ask the interviewee about interpretation or translation in each language that they report others helping them with in their home.   20c. How do you feel when this person interprets or translates for you? 	  180 21a. What languages do you use in each of the following contexts. [List each of the options one at a time.]  In Schools [See 3a to see if this applies]  i. (If applicable) In the classroom, with friends. ii. (If applicable) In the classroom, with teachers.  At work [See 3c to see if this applies]  iii. With your boss. iv. With your coworkers.  In the community v. With friends your age. vi. With older members of the community. vii. With younger members of the community. viii. At church or community events. ix. While shopping. x. While dealing with official matters, such as legal or financial documents. xi. While dealing with health professionals.  Other contexts xii. Are there other contexts in which you change your language use? (please specify)  21b. Do you think that there are other people that have similar experiences to your own, people that live here in Ventura County?  B. Language Use in the Community   22. If I say “your community here in Ventura County”, who do you think of?  [ ] Everyone     [ ] People from the same municipio/pueblo as you [ ] Just family     [ ] Other (please specify) [ ] People who speak the same language as you  23a. Do you know many people from your same pueblo who live here in Ventura County?  23b. Do you know many people from other Mixtec/Zapotec pueblos or other indigenous pueblos who live here in Ventura County?  23c. If the answer is “yes”, can you understand these people when they speak?  Older people  24a. For the majority of older indigenous people in your community here in Ventura County, what languages do they speak or understand?   24b. How well do they speak each of these languages?   181 [ ] Do they understand it, but can’t speak it?  [ ] Do they understand and speak it a little? [ ] Do they understand and speak it very well?  24c. How have most of them learned each of these languages? Have they learned each of these languages as children or as adults?   24d. How does speaking each of these languages affect their everyday life in the community, if at all?  24e. How does speaking each of these languages make their lives easier, if at all?  Adults  25a. For the majority of indigenous adults of working age in your community here in Ventura County, what languages do they speak or understand?   25b. How well do they speak each of these languages? [ ] Do they understand it, but can’t speak it?  [ ] Do they understand and speak it a little? [ ] Do they understand and speak it very well?  25c. How have most of them learned each of these languages? Have they learned each of these languages as children or as adults?   25d. How does speaking each of these languages affect their everyday life in the community, if at all?  25e. How does speaking each of these languages make their lives easier, if at all?  Young people  26a. For the majority of indigenous young people in your community here in Ventura County, what languages do they speak or understand?  26b. How well do they speak each of these languages? [ ] Do they understand it, but can’t speak it?  [ ] Do they understand and speak it a little? [ ] Do they understand and speak it very well?  26c. How have most of them learned each of these languages? Have they learned each of these languages as children or as young adults?   26d. How does speaking each of these languages affect their everyday life in the community, if at all?    182 26e. How does speaking each of these languages make their lives easier, if at all?  26f. Do you think it's different for young people who are born in the US and young people who are born in Mexico?  Children  27a. For the majority of indigenous children in your community here in Ventura County, what languages do they speak or understand?  27b. How well do they speak each of these languages? [ ] Do they understand it, but can’t speak it?  [ ] Do they understand and speak it a little? [ ] Do they understand and speak it very well?  27c. How have most of them learned each of these languages?   27d. How does speaking each of these languages affect their everyday life in the community, if at all?  27e. How does speaking each of these languages make their lives easier, if at all?  27f. Do you think it's different for children who are born in the US and children who are born in Mexico?  PART 3: LANGUAGE ATTITUDES  28a. Do you yourself or do you know other people who mix two or more languages or varieties at the same time? For example, Spanglish, or a mix of Mixtec and Spanish, or of two different varieties of Mixtec?  If the answer is “yes”, continue with question 28b. If it is “no”, skip ahead to question 29.  28b. Who does this, and what languages or varieties do they mix? Can you give me an example?  28c. Why do you think they do this?  28d. Do you think mixing languages is a good thing, a bad thing, or neither?  29a. How important is it to you personally to speak [Mixtec/Zapotec/Otomí/Triqui/other Indigenous language]? Why?  29b. How important is it to you personally to speak Spanish? Why?  29c. How important is it to you personally to speak English? Why?   183  30a. If you have children or plan to have them someday, how important is it to you   personally for them to speak [Mixtec/Zapotec/Otomí/Triqui/other Indigenous language]? Why?  30b. How important is it to you for your children to speak Spanish? Why?  30c. How important is it to you for your children to speak English? Why?  31a. How important is it to you personally for other people from your community here in  Ventura County to speak [Mixtec/Zapotec/Otomí/Triqui/other Indigenous language] now that you all live in the United States? Please explain your answer.   31b. How important is it to you that other people from your community here in Ventura County speak Spanish? Why?  31c. How important is it to you that other people from your community here in Ventura County speak English? Why?  32. Generally, what languages are important for indigenous people in Ventura County to speak now that you all live in the US? Why? What is each language important for?  PART 4: WORDS IN THE INDIGENOUS LANGUAGE  33. Which variety of the language will your answers be from? If you provide answers in more than one variety, please note which variety each word comes from. 	1 tortilla 2 bean / frijol 3 squash / calabaza 4 bird / pajarito 5 tree / árbol 6 water / agua 7	 sky / cielo	8 egg / blanquillo 9 salt / sal 10 griddle / comal 11 river / río 12 rabbit / conejo  13 deer / venado 14 ant / hormiga 15 vulture / zopilote 16 corn dough / masa 17 honey / miel 18 seed / semilla 19 sandal / huarache   184 20 gourd / jícara 21 green bean / ejote 22 bone / hueso 23 sun / sol 24 nopal (prickly pear cactus leaf) / nopal 25 dew / rocío, sereno 26 smoke / humo 27 word / palabra 28 cold / frío	29 raw, unripe / crudo 30 sweet / dulce	31	 brother (of a man) / hermano de hombre	32 skin / piel 33	 illness / enfermedad 34	 eyebrow / ceja 35 hand / mano 36 your hand / tu mano 37 my hand / mi mano 38 his hand / su mano de él 39 her hand / su mano de ella 40 (all of) our hands / nuestras manos (de todos) 41 our hands (of me and other(s), excluding you) / nuestras manos (de mí y otro, no de ti) 42 you all’s hands / sus manos de ustedes 43 their hands / sus manos de ellos 44 (the dog’s) paw / su pata (del perro)		PART 5: LINGUISTIC ISSUES  34a. What do you think are the most important linguistic issues facing your community?  34b. In what ways would you like to see MICOP and UCSB help your community solve these issues?  34c. What else should I have asked, or what else would you like us to know?

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