When You Don’t Have the Words (Yet)
How would you describe mac-and-cheese to the Japanese?
Posted December 3, 2025 | Reviewed by Kaja Perina
A recent large-scale study showed that speaking more than one language can protect the brain for age-related changes. Although the study did not directly examine brain mechanisms, scientists have long theorized that managing multiple languages develop extra language centers, engages the brain’s executive system, and may even be associated with larger hippocampus volume.
I grew up in Japan, so English (what I currently use daily) is my second language. Perhaps these findings should make me a bit happy, but there are downsides to being bilingual. I have not fully mastered English, and I am now forgetting some of my Japanese. My Japanese friend tells me that my Japanese sounds a bit strange. I often now struggle to find the right words in both languages. Especially, when I try to think and speak, my speech becomes halting, full of pauses. It is a bit embarrassing, and as I became more self-conscious, I also grew more reluctant to speak my mind.
Yet after reading this study (and after pondering this issue for a long time), I’ve come to a different conclusion: it is okay not to be eloquent. It is okay not to dazzle anyone with effortless oratory.
One of the founding figures of structuralism, linguist Ferdinand de Saussure, argued that words and language are not as neutral or objective as we assume. Language is a system of symbols, and its meaning is culturally shaped. In English, the word sheep refers to the animal, whereas in French, the word mouton includes both the live animal and its meat. (English uses a separate word, mutton, for the meat). So when a French speaker hears the word mouton , they might imagine a savory dish; but when an English speaker hears sheep , they’re more likely to picture a soft, woolly animal. The closest translational word can evoke entirely different associations. Saussure’s point was that language is arbitrary—what a word means depends not on some inherent truth but on how that society uses and interprets it.
Building on this idea, the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis (linguistic relativity) proposes that the structure of a language influences how its speakers perceive and interpret the world. For example, in English, we have distinct words for “blue” and “green.” In Korean, a single word can cover both. This doesn’t mean Korean speakers can’t see the difference, but they may see blue as a shade of green. In contrast, Russian distinguishes between light blue ( goluboy ) and dark blue ( siniy ), and studies show that Russian speakers can more quickly differentiate between those two shades. Language, in other words, shapes perception.
Before moving to the US, I was first exposed to American culture during my internship at the U.S. Naval Hospital in Okinawa. The American staff, far from home, welcomed me warmly and delighted in cultural exchange, especially swapping food traditions. One day, they offered me something called mac-and-cheese — they could not believe I never had it in my life, and I suddenly became the center of attention as I lifted my fork.
I was a bit skeptical of its bright orange color, but I decided to plunge in. As the creamy, cheesy soft pasta melted in my mouth, I screamed,
“This is the best food I’ve ever had in my life!”
Later, they even delighted more in showing the box, and I could not believe it came from a box, which only costed 79 cents! Needless to say, after moving to the US, I often served my daughter and her friends quick mac-and-cheese dinners (with broccoli, of course).
Later, I tried to describe mac-and-cheese to my Japanese friends but found it almost impossible. Sure, I could translate the ingredients, even describe the taste and preparation. But the idea of mac-and-cheese didn’t exist in Japanese. There was no cultural reference point for the nostalgic comfort, the bright orange color, the childhood memories that Americans attach to it. The word mac-and-cheese carries not just its technical meaning, but a shared emotional and cultural experience. Without the word, the world it represents also doesn’t fully exist.
Reaching for the "Right" Word
Beyond physical things like animals or food, language also shapes how we understand abstract concepts—like freedom, justice, kindness, and morality .
“We have the right to be free.” “War is bad.” “We need to respect the law and the constitution.”
When these phrases come out of our mouth smoothly with conviction, we think we’re expressing our own values. But are we?
We like to imagine that our thoughts come from a stable, inner self—that we use language as a tool to express our minds. But is that sequence, correct?
What if language doesn’t just express thought, but actually creates it?
When we speak fluently and confidently, we assume we are articulating deeply held beliefs. But often, we’re repeating words and phrases we learned from others, from TV, in books, in school and at home. We don’t invent our own language; we inherit it. And in borrowing words, we may also be borrowing the thoughts, perspectives, assumptions and values embedded in them.
Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote that “what we find words for is already dead in our hearts.” In other words, by the time we articulate something, it has already passed through filters—of memory , of interpretation, of culture. He believed that the spoken word was already one step removed from the living experience it tried to capture. The moment we give something a name, we freeze it in place, stripping it of its fluidity. In that sense, a spoken word is already dead.
Ironically, the moments when I struggle for words—when I pause, repeat myself, stammer and try to reach for the right words maybe the time when I am most authentic. The hesitation is not a failure of language; it maybe evidence of that I’m actually thinking.
I used to see my speech hesitation as an embarrassment . Now I accept it as who I am. Perhaps it is a sign of honesty: when the words come slowly, at least they are truly my own. And maybe, in turn, that is also helping the brain. So here is to embracing the hesitation, the stumble, and grasping to find our words.
Amoruso, L., Hernandez, H., Santamaria-Garcia, H. et al. Multilingualism protects against accelerated aging in cross-sectional and longitudinal analyses of 27 European countries. Nat Aging 5, 2340–2354 (2025). https://doi.org/10.1038/s43587-025-01000-2
Voits, T., Robson, H., Rothman, J. et al. The effects of bilingualism on hippocampal volume in ageing bilinguals. Brain Struct Funct 227, 979–994 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1007/s00429-021-02436-z
de Saussure, Ferdinand. Course in General Linguistics. Trans. Wade Baskin. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1959 (orig. Cours de linguistique générale , Lausanne & Paris: Payot, 1916).
J. Winawer et al., “The Russian Blues Reveal Effects of Language on Color Discrimination,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 104 (2007): 7780–7785.
Whorf, Benjamin Lee. Language, Thought, and Reality: Selected Writings of Benjamin Lee Whorf. Edited by J. B. Carroll. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1956.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. Twilight of the Idols . In The Portable Nietzsche, edited and translated by Walter Kaufmann. New York: Viking Press, 1954.
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Michiko Kimura Bruno, M.D., is a Movement Disorder Neurologist, practicing in Honolulu.
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This article is part of the Bringwise Psychology Journal — daily insights on human behavior, mental health, and personal growth.