by Kyle Martin and Arielle Pinto
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​Kyle is a senior at Strath Haven High School looking forward to choosing a college major in the coming year.  Arielle is a junior at Haverford College, where she is a Philosophy major. Listen to their #LanguageStory here, which includes a contribution from Swarthmore College junior Erick Gutierrez.

What began as an attempt to research the semiotic landscape created by these trucks turned into an investigation of the use of the Arabic language in Philadelphia, following an interview with Mr. Amine Helali (an operator of one such truck). From here, we spoke with Professor Benjamin Smith, an Arabic professor at Swarthmore College. We asked them questions about the languages they use in different contexts, and they told us about what they gathered from their own experiences. From both of these interviews, it seemed to us that English has a considerable importance in this community.

Amine Helali is an Algerian food truck vendor who works on the Avenue of the Arts, a largely cosmopolitan, dynamic and artistic neighborhood in Center City. After reading about the French street artist JR’s mural of Ibrahim Shah, a Pakistani food truck vendor,  whose image formerly stood on one of the facades of the Graham Building in Center City[2], one of us got inspiration, and decided to further investigate the people working in this business. Amine told us about his multilingual background in Arabic, French, Spanish and English. In his work, he uses all of those languages, but for different purposes...

by Hayden Kesterson, Jessica Lewis, and Will Marchese

​Laura greeted us at the door with her display of knitted earmuffs and head-warmers. Three words described her emotional journey of finding a community of HIV and AIDS awareness and support: "I have arrived."  

​Language followed us wherever we went after that. Exclamations about unique finds, instructions from senior volunteers and employees to newer co-workers, transactional exchanges, song lyrics from an in-house soundtrack, and casual small-talk between friends.

Everyone we approached was eager to share the story of how they ended up coming to the space. Our general questions were nearly always met with a mention of how a common vocabulary of HIV testing and AIDS awareness, and social practice of sharing, giving, health, and survival was important to the collective space of Philly AIDS Thrift.

We were there simply to learn, at a place we had only heard mentioned by various friends. Having studied sociolinguistics all semester, we were especially interested in how language use can produce locality and build community in Philadelphia. 

​Located just off of South Street in center city, Philly AIDS Thrift is equal parts thrift store, philanthropic organization, and community center. Founded in 2005, the space sprawls over two floors, each crammed with donated clothing, furniture, toys, books, and most anything else one could imagine. Meandering through this eclectic assortment is a constant flow of local shoppers and volunteers.

The three of us visited on a Sunday, their busiest day of the week, with a limited set of questions, a videocamera, and a stack of release forms. Without any prior contact with store personnel, we had set out to boldly improvise in our field research. In the end, we discovered that a flexible method of participant observation and interviewing worked wonders. Exploring the store for ourselves at first, our initial questions became more specific as we looked through the dizzying array of merchandise and decorations.  

Across our interview conversations, as well as printed signs adorning the walls, a common theme emerged: everyone was there, in whatever capacity they could, to give back to the Philadelphia community.

The store is as effective in its mission of giving back, as it is zany in its decor. Being a thrift store, the affordability of the items is highlighted, though some rooms such as the vintage room offer a slightly more expensive selection. Because of this wide pricing, people of vastly different income levels are able to shop, with an estimated 95% of profit redirected to a panoply of Philadelphia organizations that assist those affected by HIV and AIDS.​

Language informs and shapes Philly AIDS Thrift both as fun shopping destination and as philanthropic organization. On the most basic level, language is informative – here are the men’s shirts, here is the $1 room – but, going further than that, it is what undergirds the sense of local community shared by those in the space.
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As we headed home from Philly AIDS Thrift, the many words of our volunteers and shoppers rang in our heads, encouraging us reflect on how we came to interact with the space. Our video essay is, ultimately, a product of this – what our interlocutors shared, and what we gleaned from our own observations, all through the lens of how language is used in this downtown Philadelphia monument to community.

• Hayden Kesterson is a Haverford College sophomore with plans to major in Linguistics and minor in Anthropology & Sociology.
• Jessica Lewis, a sophomore at Swarthmore College, plans to major in Neuroscience.
• Will Marchese is in his first year at Swarthmore College, where he plans to double-major in History and Anthropology & Sociology.

by Amanda Izes, Melanie Kleid, Elyse O'Bannon, and Ryan Sheehan
​Watch their exciting video essay below.

In center city Philadelphia, down 11th and Arch Street and to the right of a small doorway, a string hangs connected to a rusted bell and a sign that reads “Please close le door.” At the top of a steep flight of stairs, the scent of just-painted walls lingers in the air. The sound of footsteps crossing creaky wooden floors echoes through the narrow hall. Within these vibrantly abstract walls, the inhabitants of Space 1026 quietly wind down for the night.

Space 1026 is an artistic community defined by its creative and linguistic richness, opportunity for collaboration, and connectedness. During our November 29th visit we had the opportunity to speak to both old and new members of Space 1026, or “Space,” for short. Through interviews, these community members described what Philadelphia and its art culture means to them as creators. Our short documentary provides a look into the real and imagined communities of Philadelphia’s art scene as detailed by local creators.

Artists Justin Cipa and Troy Taylor helped us understand that Space 1026 is much more than just a second-floor gallery/studio complex, an art supply storage space, or a 9-to-5-internship opportunity. Rather, Space is a fluid collective of artists and audiences, a community of sharing, inspiring, and listening. As illustrated by the drawings, stickers, and hand-written phrases that decorate its walls, Space is a constantly evolving art project representing each and every voice of its participants.

It is a physical place, but it is also an imagined community and social network of connectedness among people of all identities from all parts of the city.  It is not only an enclosed studio but also a starting point for ideas and projects to expand into new places. What happens at Space doesn’t stay at Space.

Space 1026 members suggest that social media, particularly Instagram (@Space1026), is among the most impactful and useful tools in their growth as artists and their exposure to the creative world around them. The ease of tagging a creator in a post, sending a message, searching a username, and scrolling through hundreds of images and clips of others’ artwork makes social media outlets--even the Google images page--incredibly beneficial to developing artists looking for inspiration, constructive criticism, or simply a place to visibly document their progress.

Physically and virtually, Space 1026 provides a platform for community-building and a safe place for self-expression. Space is also constantly opening new doors for its members and audiences to explore Philadelphia’s creative culture.
 
Thank you for watching!

• Amanda Izes is a sophomore from Ambler, Pennsylvania. She plans to study Linguistics and Peace and Conflict Studies at Swarthmore College.     
• Melanie Kleid is a sophomore from Litchfield, Connecticut. She plans to major in Sociolinguistics at Swarthmore College.  
• Elyse O’Bannon is a freshman from Dallas, Texas. She is a prospective Political Science major at Swarthmore College and enjoys producing films in her spare time.  
• Ryan Sheehan is a senior at Strath Haven High School. Ryan hails from Wallingford, Pennsylvania, enjoys computer science, and is thinking about pursuing it in college.

by Michael Broughton II, Natalie LaScala, and Daniel Wallick
Watch their exciting video essay below.

A ghastly warthog looms above the cluttered front desk. Countless paintings, road signs, and nostalgia cover the walls. A lighted stage, decorated with knick-knacks, gives an indie-rock feel to the back of the room. These features mark the particularly striking interior of waR3house3. 

​Hidden in an alleyway, the store's entrance is marked by only a small sign. We visited this unique shop and music venue to learn about the space’s contribution to the local Swarthmore community. Though we initially knew very little, aside from what we gathered from an earlier visit, an interview with the owner, Rob Borgstrom, and his friend Paul, helped us to understand the space as a linguistic landscape, or intentional dialectic of language use and imagery.

When we began our interview, Rob called the design of the store “reactionary.” We asked him to elaborate, and he explained how he wanted people to “feel something” in response to the items in the shop, although this reaction could vary widely. The store owner also explained that he tries to distance his store from a traditional “antique shop.” To him, the word antique indexes negative stereotypes about shops selling vintage goods. (Rob had no problem using this idea to poke fun at his buddy’s age, and used the word antique to describe Paul!)

Instead, what counts as an antique, according to Rob and Paul, depends on one’s perspective. Paul noted that the difference between an “antique” and an “old piece of junk” is what someone is willing to pay for it, again emphasizing the role of perspective and notions of value and prestige. 

The linguistic landscape that Rob has constructed inspires many stories, some of which we learned through our interview. Even the chairs we were sitting in had a backstory. Paul bought the chairs at an auction, and they sat in his house for two years or so. When Rob opened waR3house3, he realized the chairs would be useful for live music performances, and now they have a second life. 

While we focused on the shop element of waR3house3, the space also doubles as a music venue for up-and-coming bands. These Saturday-night performances implicate different rules and expectations of language use and communication, or interactional regimes, than when the space is in use as a store.

When Rob described about these performances, he began using different wording. “Magical” and “mystical” featured in his talk, helping to highlight the transformational quality of the space as a music venue rather than a simply a store. Still, these two functions of the space are closely intertwined: Rob views music as an important part of waR3house3, even when performances are not occurring.  He insisted on streaming music from Pandora during the interview, “because it’s waR3house3!”

We were particularly struck by how the multifunctionality of the space serves eclectic participants in the local Swarthmore community, across both the college and Borough. Although, waR3house3 finds the majority of its support among Borough residents, the store owner intends the space to bridge the gap between the the college and Borough communities.  

• Michael Broughton II is a sophomore studying Linguistics and Arabic at Swarthmore College. He lives near Detroit, Michigan, and greatly enjoys playing with his dog.
• Natalie LaScala is a sophomore from Long Island, New York studying Biology and Environmental Studies at Swarthmore College. She’s pre-vet and loves dogs the most.
• Daniel Wallick is a freshman at Swarthmore College who plans to study some combination of Physics, Biology, and Chemistry. He is also from Long Island, New York, and he is more of a cat person than a dog person. 

by Jamie A. Thomas

Though many of us feel there's something deeply wrong about denying opportunities to girls and women, we are okay with demanding that women be judged by their femininity, hairstyles, and nail polish, or lack thereof. Even though we acknowledge that it takes the involvement of men, along with women, to stop sexism, how many of us readily understand that the burden of dismantling racist thinking and practice lies not primarily with marginalized groups?

Just two days after the presidential election result, and students in my regularly scheduled classes seemed lifeless and downtrodden, defeated and deflated. They had no questions, no thoughts for discussion, because their world had let them down. Somehow they had thought one vote would do it all, but I told them that it was never just about this election.

The dog whistles coming from Clinton's opponent (and his tacit supporters) were sounding the very racialization, sexist anxiety, and empowered prejudice that has festered in the U.S. since before its founding. It's a fundamentalist voice that hides behind economic anxiety and patriotism, while minoritizing, marginalizing, and dehumanizing many of the very people who seek to make this union more perfect. Hate speech and its accompanying mob violence, vigilante aggression, structural injustices, and covert, normalized language of biological inferiority have never been fully denounced in this country, and that is the true shame of this moment. 

Anyone clambering to declare "I am not a racist", has likely been unwilling to examine their participation in and benefit from structural inequity. For those of us who think we couldn't possibly be racist, sexist, ableist, class-ist, or otherwise, how do we treat people who (don't) look or sound like us? How much are our lowered expectations, dismissals, fears, and misunderstandings communicated in words like minority, wife, gay, ugly, unattractive, ghetto, poor, weak, foreign? What behaviors do we need to change, along with our language? How can we encourage each other to change?

My students looked so dejected, some close to tears. But this wasn't the time to tap out, I insisted. Now, more than ever, we needed to learn from this election, and from each other. We need to listen, reach out, and work together for social and structural change. And with that, I began preparing us for a visit to Serenity House, a community house and support center in North Philadelphia, where we would have a conversation with community partners about neighborhood activism and identity.