In this reflective essay, 15-year old Sojoud Al-Hjouj interrogates the intimate relationship between language, identity, and authenticity in contemporary life. Framed through the evocative figure of the “Ajji”—the individual orphaned from their mother tongue—the piece argues that abandoning one’s native language entails a deeper estrangement from the self. Moving between personal memory, cultural critique, and existential inquiry, Al-Hjouj shows how performative speech, social expectation, and fear of misunderstanding erode sincerity and belonging. Language, she contends, is not merely a communicative tool but the homeland of the soul, the medium through which memory, emotion, and identity are formed. Loyalty to language thus emerges as an existential act: a form of resistance, self-recognition, and true civilization.
By Sojoud Al-Hjouj
Speaking of one’s identity has become everyone’s business. Consequently, the intellectual and the eloquent no longer dare to oppose others’ opinions—not for a lack of argument, but because their tongues itch with truth. So, we let them speak like a burning fire that craves more wood to blaze higher.
As one philosopher once said: "Man was created with two eyes and one tongue." One must realize that what the first eye might miss, the second will surely notice in the words we utter.
By nature, humans love to speak and learn, like a child learning the alphabet. However, one often stops at the boundaries of their own language, which separates them from the world—and other languages they must discover. Here, the story begins.
It is a story unlike any other; it is a reality we live and evolve through. But why? Humans have started expressing their feelings in a language that consumes their very thoughts and emotions. It does not allow them to honestly convey what burns in their hearts or what occupies their minds. They live beautiful moments under a self-invented illusion: "We are ashamed of our feelings."
When will man realize, in this vanishing world, that his life will not happen twice? When will he realize that loved ones are like drifting dust, lost at any moment without permission?
But most importantly: Why? Why doesn’t man use the language he was raised with, the one he mastered since childhood? Instead, he abandons it, deceiving himself into becoming an "Ajji" (a person orphaned from their mother tongue) in this life.
We live in a world that values appearance over essence and the surface over the depth. Thus, many choose to hide their true voices behind carefully filtered words, as if truth itself has become a danger, and sincerity a rare currency. Man fears showing weakness or love, dreading being misunderstood, forgetting that language is the bridge between his heart and the world. To abandon it is to abandon oneself.
In the silence of the night, when one sits with themselves, they remember the first word they spoke, the first letter they drew, the first story they heard from their mother. The image of their inner child appears, fascinated by the alphabet, with boundless curiosity, without fear or shame. This child is the essence of freedom and the core of belonging to a language that both protects and reveals. If this child loses their language, they lose the deepest part of who they are.
How often do we see people choosing a language their hearts do not understand? A language that pleases others but suffocates their souls? How often do they laugh while their hearts weep? This is the tragedy of the modern human: to be a stranger in their own language and an alien to their own feelings.
Language is the homeland of the soul; it is where memories are stored and identities are built. Whoever leaves their language leaves their internal home and becomes homeless. Each forgotten word and each suppressed feeling is a step toward loss.
The concept of the "Ajji" here is not just a poetic image; it is a reality. If language is the mother, then abandoning it leaves one as an "Ajji"—orphaned and vulnerable before the noise of the world. Anyone who does not realize this will never know the meaning of loyalty or what it means to be true to oneself and others.
In every moment, we face choices: Do we speak what we feel or what people expect? Do we write what reflects our essence or what pleases those around us? This constant struggle is what makes life real, but also what makes it bitter. Silence is sometimes more dangerous than speech, for speech at least proves your existence.
Loyalty to language, identity, and true feelings is an existential necessity. Your language is the first mirror in which you see your true self. To ignore it is to lose the most profound thing you own.
And here, we return to the story: a reality lived moment by moment. The story that doesn’t repeat, made of our words, hearts, and minds. It makes us faithful to the child we were—to the "Ajji" within us who still seeks his mother’s embrace, his internal home, and his true self.
Woe to the man who abandons his language to please another. True civilization is to stay faithful to one’s roots, for if the language withers, the soul follows. This is true loyalty.
Sojoud Al-Hjouj is an award-winning young writer and thinker from Jordan, recognized as a "World Youth Essay Ambassador. She possesses a literary voice that blends philosophical depth with social critique. Her work focuses on themes of identity, the sanctity of the mother tongue, and the emotional challenges of the digital age and she is 15 years old.
