It's a well-known fact that language can shape how we think, categorise, and navigate the world.
The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis suggests that the structure of a language influences its speakers' worldview. One commonly cited example comes from Russian, a language I'm familiar with: Russian has different words for “light blue” (голубой, goluboy) and “dark blue” (синий, siniy), which appear to affect Russian speakers’ ability to differentiate shades of blue faster than English speakers.
As a translator, language teacher, and mum of trilingual kids, I find this idea fascinating because I see it in action all the time. One area where it becomes particularly obvious is kinship terms and categorisation differences between very different languages like English and Chinese.
In this blog post, I'll explore some of these differences with examples.
The Challenge of Translating Kinship Terms
If you've ever tried translating kinship terms between English and Chinese, you'll know it’s not a straightforward task!
Translating from Chinese to English is relatively easy: the English system is much simpler, using broad terms like "brother," "sister," "uncle," and "aunt."
But translating from English to Chinese? That’s where things get tricky.
Take the seemingly simple word "brother." In English, this term applies to both an older and a younger male sibling. In Chinese, however, these distinctions matter, so we have separate words:
哥哥 (gēge) for an older brother
弟弟 (dìdi) for a younger brother
While there is an umbrella term for "brothers" (兄弟, xiōngdì), it doesn’t sound as natural in casual conversation. For example, consider this English sentence: “Peter's brother ate the cake." Without knowing whether it's an older or younger brother, we translate it as "彼得的兄弟把蛋糕吃了。” ， the literal back-translation of which reads: "Peter's older brother/younger brother ate the cake".
Yes, very awkward indeed!
It gets even more complicated when we move beyond the immediate family.
Consider the term "brother-in-law". In English, this could refer to multiple people, but in Chinese, precise kinship matters. If Peter has a brother-in-law, who exactly are we talking about?
姐夫 (jiěfu) – Peter’s older sister’s husband
妹夫 (mèifu) – Peter’s younger sister’s husband
大伯 (dàbó) – Peter’s wife’s older brother
小舅 (xiǎojiù) – Peter’s wife’s younger brother
To translate accurately, we almost need access to Peter's entire family history!
What This Says About Cultural Priorities
It can be argued that these linguistic differences reflect cultural values.
Traditionally, Chinese society has been highly family-oriented, with extended family relationships playing a key role in social structure. The specificity of kinship terms reflects this historical emphasis on family roles and hierarchy.
In contrast, English's more general approach to kinship suggests a lesser emphasis on familial distinctions, aligning with a more individualistic cultural focus.
But in other areas, the reverse is true. There are instances where English is far more precise than Chinese.
Sheep or Goat? That Depends on Context
Take the Chinese word 羊 (yáng). If you look it up in a dictionary, you’ll find two English translations: "sheep" and "goat." In everyday Chinese, 羊 is frequently used without specifying which animal is being referred to. If someone says 吃羊肉 (chī yángròu), are they eating lamb or goat meat? Context matters.
In English, however, we are much more specific:
绵羊 (miányáng) – "sheep"
山羊 (shānyáng) – "goat"
This difference highlights how Chinese tends to favour broader categories over precise distinctions in certain contexts. This is also evident in the naming of animals—many small mammals in Chinese contain the character 鼠 (shǔ), which means "rodent", even if they belong to different species. One example: 袋鼠 (dàishǔ) - kangaroo. Not really a rodent, is it?!
The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis in Everyday Life
These examples support the idea that language is not just a reflection of reality—it actively shapes how we perceive it.
When we think in a language that makes fine distinctions (like English in the case of sheep vs. goat), we are more likely to categorise these animals separately.
When we think in a language that prioritises broader categories (like Chinese in the case of kinship terms), we naturally develop a mindset that places importance on relational roles rather than individual identity.
For me, as a translator and a multilingual parent raising my kids in Russian, Mandarin and English, these nuances are endlessly fascinating.
Every time I myself switch between languages, I find myself shifting perspectives—sometimes thinking in broader categories, sometimes in finer distinctions.
And that, perhaps, is the beauty of being multilingual: the ability to see the world in multiple ways, shaped by the words we use to describe it.
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