Welcome to Untranslatable!

The beauty of words that don't quite translate from one language to another.

Hey there! Welcome to Untranslatable, a newsletter that explores the beauty and complexity of words that don’t quite translate from one language to another. These “untranslatable” words offer a window into different cultures and ways of thinking. They help us understand our own experiences. They can even help us understand each other.

I've wanted to launch this newsletter project for a while, and I'm excited to finally bring it to life. If you subscribed to my old newsletter, Sidebar, you've been automatically transferred to this one (but don't worry, you can unsubscribe anytime). Sidebar will be archived for now, which means old posts will still be searchable, but I won’t be writing new ones. And like Sidebar, this newsletter will include quick updates, recommendations, and short personal notes. I hope you'll join me as we explore the magic of untranslatable words!

M SE DAK FAN (Cantonese)

Since this newsletter was inspired by an essay about my mother, I thought I’d start with an untranslatable word I learned from her. “M se dak fan” is a Cantonese phrase that translates to something like, “not yet ready to give in to sleep.” But its true meaning is something more like, “revenge sleep procrastination.”

It’s when you refuse to go to bed because you want the day to last longer—a way of protesting your tasks and obligations. As a kid, I’d catch my mom dozing on the couch on Friday nights, her body contorted in all sorts of weird ways to prop herself up in front of the television. “Why don’t you just go to bed?” I’d ask. She’d smile and say, “m se dak fan.” 

Like a lot of untranslatable words, this phrase describes something I think many of us have experienced, and naming an experience seems to make it more powerful. It’s also a phrase that says a lot about how we fight for our happiness — and the irony of doing that. My mother is a woman who values hard work but refuses to let it constrain her. She finds small ways to experience joy, even when joy comes at the expense of her own comfort.

What’s new?

• In 2022, I became a mom! It’s been a beautiful, terrifying, exhausting, joyful, and wild ride. And while that didn’t leave much time for writing, I’m proud of a few things I published this year, including a poem in the Pinch, this essay for the Atlantic about pregnancy anxiety, and this episode of Hidden Brain.
  

• Come Write With Us is a course, community, and platform I co-created to help writers get paid and published. In January, we're launching a workshop (for the first time in two years!) where writers will get weekly support and guidance on all things freelancing, pitching, and media. Don't miss out — registration ends on Friday. Learn more here.
  

• This piece on why we need awe really resonated with me. “Through many activities that give us goosebumps — collective rituals, celebration, music and dance, religious gatherings and worship — awe might help shift our focus from our narrow self-interest to the interests of the group to which we belong.”

To me, awe feels a lot like creativity in that it’s not something you can force. You can’t say, “you know, I’d really like to feel moved by the weight of the universe right now,” and then *BOOM* two seconds later, you feel moved by the weight of the universe. Same with creativity. When I force myself to, say, go for a walk with the purpose of sparking creativity, it feels, well, forced. Which means it almost never works. Both creativity and awe feel like something that happens to you, rather than something you can force to happen. But I think there are ways to make our lives more inviting to both. So I’m curious. What are some ways you find awe in your everyday life?

Happy 2023, 

Kristin