Displacement owing to climate change is quickly outpacing conflict, political oppression, and other sociopolitical forces from which people flee the states in which they habitually reside. However, at present, most ongoing state-based programs to admit displaced persons explicitly address themselves to people displaced by conflict and human rights abuses. One notable exception is Temporary Protected Status (TPS) in the US. Nationals of countries experiencing “natural disasters” can be designated for TPS while in the US. Recipients often renew these twelve- to eighteen-month visas for many years, meanwhile putting down roots in the US and forming mixed status families. Such relief is episodic, insofar as it treats natural disasters as discrete and unpredictable events, and discretionary, insofar as it depends on the judgment of the United States Attorney General. This chapter raises questions about whether such an approach is a good model for future programs that will be needed to support people seeking refuge from uninhabitable or inhospitable environments.

This chapter explores the connection between informality, migration, and precarity and how urban villages are formed in China. It discusses the contribution of the book and the fieldwork methods and introduces the readers to the structure of the book.

Violence that enters the lives of precarious subjects exists in the form of insurgency, rebellion, and even roguery. The chapter opens with a reading of two texts: Michael Peel’s A Swamp Full of Dollars, about a real-life journalist with a penchant for literary devices, and Helon Habila’s Oil on Water, about a fictional journalist with social realist proclivities. By employing literary devices charged with concealed violence, both texts reveal that precarity breeds insurgent violence. Each treats Delta militancy as a metaphor – a symptom of inequalities crystallized into insurgency – and traces other absent metaphors, including naturalized violence, that are laden with militancy: area boys, urban gangs, and precarious ecologies. This is followed by a reading of the “subterranean violence” in Tony Nwaka’s Lords of the Creek: rather than addressing the root cause of insurgency, Nwaka’s novel reveals how the oil fraternity and power elites manufacture a false sense of emergency to crush militants. Thus, the real emergency concealed under the second order of diegesis implodes into insurgent violence. The play of the militant tropes in the three texts is complemented by the “routine violence” in Tiny Sunbirds Far Away, where militancy becomes a response to violent disruption of the daily routines of Delta populations.

This section thinks about the relationship between compositional creativity, labour, and money. It outlines how artistic freedom and agency have often been inversely related to stable income, and suggests some ways that composers today might navigate these elements in order to monetise their work.

A current prominent translingualism strand in sociolinguistics has started paying increasing attention to linguistic ‘playfulness’. When language users are involved with translingual practices, they may often be identified through the ‘playfulness’ of their interactions and dialogues (commonly a euphemism for creativity, innovativeness and fluidity), where one’s repertoire is deeply connected with forms of playful exchange to create alternative linguistic lives and identities. Yet, this extensive spectacle of ‘playfulness’ seems to dwell more on conviviality than potential ‘precarity’, overlooking the fact that precarity has arguably always been a condition of human life and norm for most language users, who are deeply embedded in local economies of uncertainty, marginalisation and vulnerabilities. In this chapter, we aim to re-visit two key notions that are core to translingual experiences: ‘precariousness’ and ‘playfulness’. The key implication of this chapter, therefore, is that the next generation of sociolinguists needs to focus more on the precarity of the translingualism trend, not just the playfulness. The two concepts need to be treated with caution, so as not to assume that we understand too easily what is ‘precarious’ or ‘playful’ for whom. In so doing, we re-navigate the jubilant scenes of ‘playfulness’ and move towards the centrality of ‘precariousness’.

While much attention has been paid to the creativity surrounding translingual practice, there has been little focus on the underlying politics behind such practice in periphery or precarious contexts. This chapter explores the political underbelly of translingual practice in the under-researched Muslim world through two case studies in English-medium instruction (EMI) universities in the United Arab Emirates and Bangladesh. Online and offline data are analysed through the lens of critical social inquiry. Ethnographic observations and metapragmatic reflections revealed that translingual practice is a key element of students’ identities with varying ideologies attached. The chapter explores the micro and macro relations influencing ideologies, such as linguistic and symbolic distances between languages, monolingualism, linguistic imperialism, neoliberalism, secularization and sacralization. The chapter specifically investigates how translingual practice problematizes dominant monolingual biases in higher education and monolithic approaches to social, political, and religious realities. The chapter also analyses internalized mainstream monolingual ideologies in some students, leading to feelings of unworthiness and shame over translingual practices. Thus, the chapter sheds light on sociolinguistic complexities of translingual practices in two under-investigated Islamic countries. Suggestions are made as to ways in which the current gap between complex sociolinguistic realities and monolithic policies can be bridged.

In order to explore translinguistic precarity in greater depth, we need to do three things: First, move towards a sufficiently complex understanding of what precarity means (and does not mean). Is it a general condition of our times, a longstanding effect of capitalist exploitation or an emergent property of unequal social relations? Second, we need to think through ways of relating precarity to language. It is not enough to predefine precarious lives in terms of marginalisation, poverty, struggle or discrimination and then to assume that the language used by or towards such speakers is necessarily precarious or produces precarity. We need instead to understand the co-articulation of translingual practices and lived experiences of precarity, asking how one informs the other. So third, it is important to understand the dynamic interactions among material relations, language ideologies and linguistic resources, where precarity may be an emergent feature as much as a pre-condition, of a local assemblage. Drawing on data from our longitudinal metrolingual project we make a case for understanding translanguaging and precarity in relational terms, entangled with family and friendship support structures, contingencies of the local economy, gender norms, cultural and religious practices, and local language policies and possibilities.

Women from circumstances of displacement and precarity are often considered from perspectives of postcolonial subalternity and suffering. Their linguistic versatility is understood as emerging from conditions of hopelessness, poverty and vulnerability. In this chapter, the authors bring vignettes of conversations with southern multilingual women living now in Australia, who at different stages of their lives and despite circumstances of precarity, exhibit ingenuity in survival through dextrous translingual and transknowledging practices. More than this, they demonstrate how their multilinguality is integral to their potential to thrive in hope. In the three small stories offered in this chapter diverse women of Australia – Anangu women from remote central Australia, young displaced women of extraordinary resilience, and women who escaped violent conflict in East Africa – reveal their strategies of self-efficacy in conversations of complicity and trust, and in processes of telling and retelling with the researchers. Mindful of ‘decolonising methodologies’, ‘southern epistemologies’ and ‘epistemic reflexivity’ , the authors recognise their limitations and privileges as researchers in the south, hopeful that in stepping lightly towards spaces that are at times private and at others, public, they can turn the lens towards playful and purposeful southern multilingualisms.

Translingual users recruit diverse linguistic and non-linguistic resources in fluid and playful ways within their daily linguistic and communicative repertoires. In so doing, they are often involved with ‘playful naughtiness’ that is marked by exuberant banter, mockery, jokes, and travesty. Yet this ‘playful naughtiness’ should not necessarily be the main focus of the analysis, as translingual repertoires may also be linked to precarious conditions of life through the multifarious politics of precarious reality. Translingualism can be fundamentally identified through the failing social, political, academic and economic networks that expose language users to varied critically precarious settings. First, translingualism may be linked with precarious working conditions, particularly for south-to-north migrants or international students who are situated in the Anglophone world. Second, in the precarious world of translingualism, one may find a ‘safe space’ with those who share a similar translingual space. The chapter concludes that understanding the social, political, emotional and ideological conditions for translingual precarity, and the effects of these on translingual users’ own subjectivities, social positions, language ideology and policy, is essential.

Much translanguaging and translinguality scholarship focuses on defending and celebrating recognizable forms of language difference – e.g., “Chinglish” – as creativity and agency by the socioeconomically precarious manifesting a micropolitics of resistance. This focus obscures the concrete labour of all utterances, whether deemed conventional or not, by all language users, whether “native” or not, contributing to maintaining and revising language as practice, and, hence, obscures the dependence of dominant culture’s continuity on such labor and, hence, its precarity. Samples from the assigned writing of a bilingual (French/English) student attending a required US undergraduate writing course are shown to exhibit a mix of conventional and unconventional linguistic forms and, more importantly, writerly agency in the writing’s manifestation of criticality toward dominant views of first-year undergraduate writing students as mere recipients of others’ knowledge and its deft deployment of language to produce knowledge. Shifting to a focus on language users’ contribution of their labor to maintaining and revising language and knowledge can bring out the agency of all utterances, the status of criticality and creativity as the norm of language use, the emergent character of language, and, thus, the precarity of dominant culture.

In this Afterword, I provide additional comments on Sender Dovchin, Rhonda Oliver, and Li Wei’s edited book’s central argument, namely that a rather romanticized view of translingualism as the celebration of playfulness despite the precarious conditions of life of translingual users needs to be addressed. The chapters in this book do an interesting reading of precarity in terms of ontology, social practices, and the conditions of inequality in today’s world. To further enrich the response to the critique that translanguaging scholarship ignores the actually existing conditions of precarity and suffering under neoliberalism, I draw on my own experience as an editor of an applied linguistics journal in Brazil and on the (in)securitization of everyday life experienced by interlocutors in my fieldwork in Rio de Janeiro favelas. I conclude that imagining forms of life that do not surrender to or freeze in the face of precarity seems to be an urgent task for sociolinguists.

Nearly three decades since democracy, equitable land reform and redistributive justice continue to elude most South Africans – especially rural women. This chapter argues that traditional leaders’ disproportionate powers account for this failure in ‘traditional areas’. Substantial data and research evidence address (1) how land is a primary site of contestation over traditional leaders’ powers and (un)accountability; (2) how traditional leaders use powers and unaccountability afforded by the apartheid government to stand in the way of democratic governance and economic progress; (3) the citizenship implications of rural people’s subjection to leadership without consultation or choice, and dispossession of ‘informal’, ‘communal’ land rights without consultation or consent, and (4) the direct tie between the impoverished systems of rural democracy and the continued and deepening impoverishment of the people (mostly women) who live in these areas. Analysis of the Itereleng Bakgatla and Ingonyama Trust cases shows how the opportunities and objectives that the Interim Protection of Informal Land Rights Act 31 of 1996 (IPILRA) presents for inclusive land reform remain unrealised.