Author Archives: Katarina ODette

Helmet Up, Logo Out–Football Gesture at Loyola Academy

“I was on the Loyola Academy—that was my high school—football team, the Ramblers. At the end of the national anthem, we would always raise our helmets with the Loyola Academy logo out. We would turn our helmets so they were pointing at the American flag. We would also do it at the end of the game. Even when we weren’t in the group, before the game, we would raise our helmets on the sidelines. That was our mantra. That was a tradition that was passed down from previous players. I think it came down originally from one of the original head coaches. He was there for thirty or so years, and after he passed away of a heart attack, it was something that the kids kept going. The coaches go along with it and do it, but it’s really more something the kids keep up.”

 

As my informant said, this started as a gesture created by the coach for use at the end of the national anthem. After his death, the players adopted it and kept it going as a tribute to him. It has since evolved to become player-driven. Rather than being taught by a coach, it is the players who have already been on the team for a while and are familiar with the team’s customs to pass this gesture on to the new players. Its use has expanded–rather than only being used at the end of the national anthem, it is now also performed at the end of the game and even at various spontaneous, unplanned points during the game. Rather than being a tribute to the former coach, it is now a way for the team to bond. It fosters a unity between them, as they are the only people at a game performing the gesture. When one player uses it, all the others follow suit. It also allows the players to demonstrate their unity to both their fans and the other team, suggesting that they will be more successful on the field because they are working together.

Hawaiian Pidgin English by Non-Speakers

Informant: In Hawaii, if you go there, you might find that some people speak… well, not hugely different. It’s still English. But it’s a local slang kind of English. So, like, instead of “hello, how are you doing?” it’s “hey barada, howzit?”

Me: So is it an accent or a dialect?

Informant: It’s just… so unique to Hawaii. Like, there are certain words that are borrowed from some different languages. Because when all the immigrants arrived in Hawaii… there were a lot of immigrants, especially from Asia. Obviously, they don’t know English. They have to find a way to communicate with each other. As they live there, they grasp English, right? But they’re still not good at it. So, words were combined. People started using other cultures’ words, and then it all started getting meshed together, so even when it’s not grammatically correct…

Me: Is it a language you learn or a language you pick up?

Informant: Yeah, if that’s how you grew up. Like, if your family speaks Pidgin English, then you probably grow up speaking it. It’s not spoken by a particular group or anything. I mean, people my age who speak it are usually third generation immigrants. Fourth generation. Cause that means they’re from a line of early immigrants. Or if you’re from a neighborhood where a lot of people speak Pidgin English, then you probably speak Pidgin English. If you wanted to.

Me: Can you slip in and out? Are there people who speak both “proper” English and Pidgin English, and switch between them?

Informant: Yeah, yeah, I know some people like that. Not me, obviously. I mean, I don’t speak Pidgin English. My parents don’t speak it.

Me: Are there different kinds of Pidgin English depending on where you are?

Informant: … I don’t think so? There’s this one phrase, “hey barada, you know da kine?” Even for us, it’s hard to explain what “da kine” is. It’s so generic. We use it… I guess when we want to say, “you know about that thing?”

Me: So, do you use that expression sometimes?

Informant: Yeah.

Me: So even people who don’t speak Pidgin English, they’ll use phrases? They kind of get adopted by non-speakers?

Informant: Yeah, I guess it’s like that.

Me: Do you remember where you learned that phrase?

Informant: I never learned it. That’s the thing. It’s just something people know. They say it all the time. I guess it means “the kind.” It’s just been localified. So it’s “da kine.”

Me: Do you use it in any specific contexts? You know, when would you use that instead of the “proper” English version?

Informant: Oh, I mean, it’s very interchangeable. Sometimes people go into Pidgin English and that’s totally okay. It’s not like “what the heck? Why are you talking like that?”

Me: Do you have any idea why those kinds of expressions are popular? Why do you use it?

Informant: I have no idea. Honestly. I mean, obviously, it’s specific only to Hawaii because of its history and roots. That’s why it’s stuck around this long.

Me: So you use it, even though you don’t speak Pidgin, and it’s just accepted.

Informant: Yeah. I mean, obviously you wouldn’t use it in a school paper. It’s just heard a lot. I guess that’s why people use those phrases. It’s definitely really saturated, and it’s not looked down upon. It’s definitely not a pretentious way of thinking. It’s so casual that it… I guess, because it’s not “proper” English, some people may perceive it as lower.

Me: Is it done mockingly, when you use Pidgin?

Informant: Oh. Well, sometimes, it’s funny. If you don’t talk like that regularly, like me, we’ll use it to be funny. But we’re not mocking it or anything.

Me: Do you use it completely seriously, or when non-speakers do it, is it always to get a laugh?

Informant: It’s not really either. It’s just, sometimes something randomly will just come out.

 

The adoption of select Pidgin phrases by non-speakers suggests close contact between the immigrant and non-immigrant populations in Hawaii. The fact that most non-Pidgin speakers in Hawaii are familiar with certain phrases indicates that they are frequently and broadly exposed to Pidgin throughout the state. Rather than being kept sequestered in their own communities, Pidgin speakers are accepted and integrated into society, at least enough so as to have been able to pass on these phrases. The way the phrases are used is particularly telling. They are used by non-speakers to be funny, but not to mock. Instead, it is funny because the non-speaker is pretending to speak a language he does not. The non-speakers acknowledge what they consider to be the silliness of the sound of the language, but do so by making fun of how they themselves  make it sound. They are not rejecting the language, but their own inability to speak it. Therefore, it comes across as teasing the Pidgin language to prove their acceptance of it. Rather than making the Pidgin speakers the outcasts, the non-speakers are proving themselves the outcasts and attempting to integrate themselves with the Pidgin speakers. Overall, this indicates a general acceptance of Pidgin speakers and the Pidgin language. My informant mentioned several times that the Pidgin language is uniquely Hawaiian. Hawaiians seem protective of that label; not only do they accept the language, but they want it to be identified with their state and its culture. It is a point of pride for them, even if it is not their language.

Taking off your shoes–Hawaiian custom

Informant: Although it’s just an Asian thing in general, to take off your shoes before you enter a house, everyone in Hawaii does that. It’s second nature. Even Caucasian people who have been living in Hawaii for a long time, or for their whole lives. They’ll automatically take off their shoes before they come in the house.

Me: Does anyone not do it?

Informant: No, no. You just… do it. It’s just a thing we’ve always done. That’s why, when I moved to northern California in seventh grade, I was so shocked. I thought everyone did that. I thought it was just a universal thing. I didn’t realize it was just us. I was so shocked when my friend came into my house with her shoes on. I said “oh my gosh, what are you doing!?” and she asked what I was talking about. We were both so confused. And I told her to take her shoes off and she asked me why.

Me: Do you know why? Is it to be polite, or is it related to superstition?

Informant: I don’t know about superstition… Yeah, it’s politeness. It’s just how we are. We don’t want to make our house dirty. Have you ever gone into an Asian person’s house and had it be dirty? No! It’s always clean. (laughing) So I guess that went from being part of Asian culture to being in Hawaiian culture.

 

At other points during our interview, my informant talked about the large number of Asian immigrants in Hawaii. These immigrants maintaining the custom of taking off their shoes before entering a house makes sense; these traditions were held onto to counteract against losing what they considered to be their former, or maybe even “true,” cultural identity. What is interesting is that it spread to non-immigrants as well. While my informant did not know why this was, it suggests that there is respect among Hawaiians for these immigrants. They not only respect the custom enough to practice it in Asian immigrant homes, but also to adapt the custom in their own homes. It could also speak to the proximity of immigrants and non-immigrants. Non-immigrants may be in such close quarters with Asian immigrants that they are constant observers to these customs, eventually causing them to absorb them as their own. In general, it suggests that native Hawaiians have a welcoming attitude toward immigrants and immigrant culture.

Smacking for Luck–Magic and Football

“Outside the Loyola Academy locker room, in the hallway, they have one of those motivational signs that saya, you know, ‘Play Like a Rambler Today’ (the Rambler is the football team name) and it was just put up there in the locker room, but kids took to pounding it as they walked out before the game. When we walked in the hallway, there was the sign at the end. No one would think about going by it without smacking it. If you all smacked the poster, then the game was going to go well. If you didn’t, well…”

 

This practice probably started as one player just deciding to smack the poster once for fun and then being mimicked by the other players on the team. However, it has since evolved into a form of folk magic. By smacking the poster, the players are hoping that their opponents will also be smacked down. Because so much of the outcome of a football game is the result of chance (if the wind was blowing right at the right moment, if a player was left unguarded at the perfect opportunity to score, etc), the use of folk magic allows the players to act as though they have control over these moments of chance. If the entire Loyola Academy team smacks the poster, they have ensured that those moments of chance in the game will go well for them. It also provides them with a scapegoat in the event that the game does not go well. “Well, x wasn’t here today, so he didn’t smack the poster. That’s why we lost.” Any failure on the field, whether it was something that the players could have controlled or not, is now attributed to whether the poster was smacked by the whole team. It releases the team as a whole from blame and culpability.

The Slick

“One of the things you have to do as a freshmen, no matter what section of [the University of Southern California’s Trojan Marching] band you’re in, that has been done for twenty or thirty years, is that you have to eat this thing called the slick. At its most basic, it’s chili, French Fries and root beer all put in one cup and mixed together. In a lot of sections, the people who are graduating get to put whatever they want in there, like peppers, oatmeal… just really gross things. They say that if you don’t finish it, then you’re still a freshmen. It’s supposed to signify that you’re done with your freshmen year, and you’re now an older member of the band. The gist of it is that you have to finish it, and that’s just that. But this past year, there was a senior in one of the sections who just didn’t want to do it because he didn’t want to get in trouble and he thought it was just mean. It was interesting to see how that was such a huge deal. People in other sections were really angry. I was angry. ‘We had to do it when we were freshmen. Why don’t those freshmen have to do it?’ It was so scary, the mob mentality we had. ‘No, we’ve all done it! You all have to do it! It’s a ritual!’ We didn’t stop to even think about the logic of it.”

 

What I find particularly compelling about the slick is that it represents the last band event before a liminal period for both the freshmen and the seniors. Over the course of my interview with my informant, she mentioned several instances of freshmen hazing. The slick is the last of these. Every freshmen who eats the slick is then considered to be no longer a freshmen. They cannot actually be called sophomores until the next fall. Eating the slick is their initiation to that liminal stage where they are no longer freshmen, but not yet sophomores. They are no longer subject to the hazing of the older band members, but they are also not yet allowed the status or perks of being a sophomore and older band member. For the senior band members, this represents the end of their domination. While they will still be seniors for the remainder of the year, they have lost the ability to haze the freshmen because there are no longer any freshmen (assuming all the freshmen eat the slick). They are allowed the final gesture of putting whatever combinations of food and drink they find most disgusting into creating the slick. But that large part of their identity as seniors in having that domination over the freshmen is now gone. After all the freshmen have eaten the slick, the band no longer has freshmen and also, in some ways, seniors.