Written by Karen Huang
Image credit: Suming@The Wall by square(tea)/Flickr, license CC BY 2.0
In 2020, Paiwan singer Abao (阿爆) became an overnight sensation at the 31st Golden Melody Awards (GMA) when her Paiwan album ‘Kinakaian MOTHER TONGUE’ brought home multiple major awards, including the ‘Album of the Year’ and ‘Song of the Year’. The awards surprised many, as Mandarin popular music usually dominates these two cross-language categories. It was the first time an Indigenous-language singer had won both categories simultaneously.
Under the YouTube comment section of Abao’s award-winning song ‘Thank You’, many listeners admitted that they did not know the song before the GMA and were amazed by how powerful and ‘international’ it is. Abao also knew her music sung in Paiwan might not have been as popular. In her acceptance speech, she urged the audience to ‘try’ to listen to her music so people could understand Indigenous Taiwanese more.
Abao’s message indicates that her music is more than just singing in another language. The title of her album also exemplified her intention to promote Indigenous languages. The 16 Indigenous groups in Taiwan comprise only 2.5% of the Taiwanese population, and the Indigenous languages are in danger due to language shifts caused by decades of Mandarin-only policies. The question is, can singing in their ‘mother tongue’ revitalise endangered Indigenous languages? If so, how?
Singing as a Way to Language and Culture Revitalisation
There has been no shortage of Indigenous talent in the popular music industry in Taiwan since the late 90s. Many well-known Mandopop singers are Indigenous Taiwanese: A-Mei (張惠妹), Tai Ailing (戴愛玲), Chang Chen-yue (張震嶽), A-Lin, Power Station (動力火車), just to name a few. At the same time, more and more Indigenous musicians started to create popular music sung in their Indigenous languages (Indigenous pop). Biung (王宏恩)’s Bunun album ‘The Hunter’ (獵人) in 2000 was perhaps the first notable attempt to combine an Indigenous language with mainstream popular music, with ‘Ana tupa tu’ (Moonlight) being one of the most well-known Indigenous pop songs. Before that, songs sung in Indigenous languages aimed at the mainstream market were mostly traditional folk songs marketed as World music. In the past two decades, the Indigenous pop scene has gradually flourished with a variety of genres, such as Suming (舒米恩) in electronic dance music (EDM)/Pop, Ilid Kalao (以莉·高露) in Bossa Nova, Sangpuy (桑布伊) in Folk, Abao’s in R&B/EDM, Kasiwa (葛西瓦) in Hip Hop and so on, becoming increasingly recognised by Taiwanese listeners.
For musicians, writing in their mother tongue is a way to (re-)connect with their cultural heritage. Their Indigenous language constitutes an indispensable part of their culture and identity. Therefore, creating and singing in the language is an intuitive way to express themselves. These musicians also understand that they face the serious threat of language loss. As minorities in Taiwan, there are few opportunities to use Indigenous languages outside the Indigenous communities. Therefore, Indigenous pop creates an arena to practise their languages. It is noteworthy that most Indigenous singer-songwriters are not proficient speakers. Many require linguistic help from elders when writing lyrics. For example, Abao has always been very open about the fact that she is not a fluent speaker. She referred to her two Paiwan pop albums as ‘Indigenous language workbooks’ because her mother co-wrote the lyrics with her and coached on her pronunciation in recording sessions. Abao said that creating Indigenous music is an opportunity to learn the language: ‘Opposed to the public’s belief, I don’t speak my language very well—that is exactly why I work on Indigenous music’. Urban Indigenous people like Abao are away from their cultures and languages. Creating Indigenous music is, therefore, a way for them to learn the language and reconnect with their culture.
Singing as an Act of Community Empowerment
Indigenous pop also has a considerable impact on their communities, particularly on the younger generation. Abao’s song ‘1-10’ was widely played in the Paiwan primary schools. Amis singer Ilid Kalao also recorded children’s songs for her daughter’s Amis preschool. In the case of Amis singer Suming, he strategically adopted EDM in his songs because he saw how popular EDM was among young people regardless of the language; they just wanted something they could dance to. After seeing the youngsters in the Indigenous villages commit themselves to dancing to K-pop music or even learning Korean, he wrote ‘Kayoing’ (and made an MV with the help of the teenagers in his community). The Amis EDM became a massive hit among the Amis communities and was danced to at harvest festivals. We can see that Indigenous pop contributed to the language maintenance in the Indigenous communities as they were actively practised.
The impact of Indigenous pop on Indigenous youths is more than creating something to sing or dance to; it also further develops their confidence. As a minority, Indigenous Taiwanese have endured racism for a long time. By singing Indigenous pop, the musicians hope to instil pride in the youths for their culture and language. Like Suming said in an interview, ‘If the young people in the Indigenous communities now are proud of speaking and singing in their Indigenous languages, the future of the communities would be promising’. As a result, many singers, such as Abao and Suming, often bring youngsters from their communities to perform with them. As Abao explained in an interview, ‘(I) need to show (young people) their possibilities. Otherwise, they will keep thinking that Indigenous people are inferior.’ Abao has also established Nanguaq, which records songs by talented amateur Indigenous Taiwanese and distributes them. Singing, for many, is an act of empowerment.
Normalising the Indigenous Languages
Aside from reaching the Indigenous communities, the musicians hoped their music could influence non-Indigenous Taiwanese. Many Indigenous singers often shifted between Mandopop and Indigenous pop for market considerations. However, some insisted on only writing in Indigenous languages. For example, Puyuma singer Sangpuy only sings in Puyuma because he believes that ‘(not listening to something because of its) language is just an excuse… all listeners need to do is feel the music.’ Many Indigenous pop singers also emphasise that songs reach beyond words—if one can listen to K-pop without knowing Korean, why not listen to Indigenous pop?
The transcendent nature of music makes Indigenous pop an ideal instrument to change how non-Indigenous Taiwanese view Indigenous language. When revitalising minority languages, it is recognised that the negative attitudes of the dominant language speakers might discourage the use of the minority language. Therefore, it is important to promote the image and prestige of the minority language to the dominant language speakers. While more and more Taiwanese have started to learn about Indigenous cultures and people, the public discourse still often focuses on the traditional heritage, the connection to nature, or being helpless from social injustice. While the intention is benign, the discourse also reinforces a stereotype of Indigenous people as primitive, simple, or vulnerable. The musicians hoped that presenting Indigenous languages in a modern cultural context could change the Taiwanese’s view of them. They hoped to make the Indigenous languages more prevalent and to recreate contemporary, hip, and cool images of the Indigenous languages. Like Suming said, ‘Don’t you think Indigenous languages sound like French, quite elegant sounding?’ By analogy to a highly regarded foreign language, the musicians hope to shape a new perspective on how non-Indigenous Taiwanese view Indigenous languages.
Although the Taiwanese government has implemented language policies to revitalise Indigenous languages through language classes, benefits tied to proficiency tests and other measures, revitalising Taiwanese Indigenous languages remains an uphill battle. Until Taiwan becomes more inclusive with less discrimination against Indigenous people, it will remain a hostile environment for Indigenous languages. What Indigenous pop singers did was normalise the use of the Indigenous languages and normalise diverse cultures. With more songs sung in Indigenous languages, it is hoped that Taiwan will become a welcoming place where Indigenous languages are used. It might be difficult, but just like the lyrics from Suming’s award-winning song ‘Aka pisawad’ (Do not give up),
‘Ano tala’ayaw, mafohat ko lalan a misi’ayaw.’ (If life continues to move forward, you will always be able to see that the road ahead will open up.)
This article was published as part of a special issue on Pop Music, Languages, and Cultural Identities in Taiwan.
Taiwan Insight 