Photo credit: Poldavo (Alex)
As the rapid influx of Spanish speakers transforms the American populace, I stand between two cultures, two languages, two peoples, simultaneously grateful for and bitter about the prejudice that grows with the numbers.
I think it is important that everyone experience being a member of the minority. Speaking Spanish has provided me this opportunity: under the guise of my gringa appearance, I carry around a sensitivity for and understanding of Latino culture that others don’t expect me to have. I am often the ethnic minority in a group of Latinos and the linguistic minority amongst my own family and friends. Although I do not deal with discrimination as do minorities who physically stand out, I frequently feel isolated and preoccupied with the image I am projecting with my words.
When Spanish speakers hear me saying “¡cuídate!” instead of “careful!” to Isaiah, they seem taken aback. Instead of a friendly reaction, I usually get questions or stares first. Occasionally, I have a positive experience, such as when Isaiah finds a Spanish-speaking amiga at the playground and I have a friendly conversation with her mother. While I feel completely comfortable conversing, reading, and singing in Spanish at home, I am reminded of how out of place my language use seems when I interact with my son, and try to interact with others, in public.
The situation is reversed when my English-speaking neighbors hear us speaking Spanish while we’re playing in the driveway or walking the dog. We receive questions and stares, and only rarely an encouraging comment. I wish I didn’t feel the need to justify an ultimately personal choice by explaining that Isaiah is of Hispanic descent, but I often catch myself doing just that. His heritage is only part of why I speak Spanish with him, but it is the easiest answer to the quizzical frown on someone’s face. Language is perhaps the most blatant ingredient in communication, and makes it difficult to ignore even implied questions.
No matter the ways in which my immersion in various traditions directs my life, it will never produce quite the level of confusion for me as it likely will for my son. I grew up in upper-middle-class white America, and never questioned who I was (at least from an ethnic perspective). I worry that I may not be able to guide my son through any future identity crisis because I never struggled with this type of complexity. Not only does he know two or more words for every thing in his world; he has two names (Isaiah and Isaias), two immediate families, and distinct facial features that prompt bold assumptions from strangers. I can only imagine what difficulties these factors will present for him when he starts school and, worse, enters adolescence. The days of moving effortlessly from one group of kids to another on the playground may very well disappear.
Still, I am optimistic about the potential that being in-between may afford my child in the long run, because no amount of self-conscious worry could make me decide to stop hablando español.
This is a really great post! My friend and I had a talk about this a while ago because I am very Mexican-looking and in Chicago, people often assume that I don’t speak English. I also look very young and when I’m out by myself with my son and stepson (and I’m currently very pregnant) people give me glares and looks that scream: “I’m judging you.” Once a man even told me that I was “nothing but a Hispanic breeder, probably with no education.”
On the other hand, my friend’s mother is Mexican and her father is an upper-middle class anglo college professor. She has light brown hair and blue eyes and the father of her children is Mexican, but refuses to speak Spanish to them. So she pretty much does what you do and tries to speak Spanish to her son and daughter as much as possible. Instead of glares, she gets approving nods and looks and people say, “Wow, she’s speaking Spanish to her kids!” So, whereas, people assume that I’m choosing to hinder my children’s development by speaking to them in Spanish when we live in the USA, people also assume that she is expanding their horizons and learning abilities by introducing them to Spanish at such a young age. It’s such a conundrum.
For the record, when people start giving me disapproving stares, I start speaking to my kids in French. Take that, judgmental strangers!
Yes, this is an awesome post. Not only because it’s eloquently written, but because it’s such an interesting perspective of what it means to be bilingual and bicultural.
I know I’ve told you this already, but I really admire what you do, Chelsea! Gracias por compartir esto!
@Elizabeth, bravo!! Excelente! We all have such different stories! Would love to hear more!
Chelsea, thanks very much for this thought-provoking post. My son is also “mixed” and I also am a “gringa” who came to the Spanish language by choice. Once, when I was obviously pregnant, a contractor in my office said “Congratulations! At least there will be ONE more Anglo baby in Houston.” (Apparently he never noticed the family photos on my desk showing crowds of pale blue-eyed blonds and crowds of brown Mexicans as well.) So far, whether someone says Mark, Markie, Marco, Marcos, Marquis… my son answers. I do worry about what happens inside him when my son notices there’s sometimes real conflict and tension in this country and yes sometimes between individuals, with two groups of people who are basically equal parts of him. We deliberately chose a specific neighborhood to live in where there are immigrants from everywhere. It allows me to be a little lazy because Marco finds by chance some other kids who don’t fit neatly into categories. A lot of people are creating new combinations, figuring out what traditions to keep, what they’d love to but can’t really manage, and sometimes, what they’d just as soon get rid of. I think all the young people with immigrant parents feel pulled by two worlds. I’m not suggesting you move just that you intentionally find experiences for Isaiah where there are a few other “odd fish” around, and people are positive. My (white) daughter was 14 when I met my husband, and we moved right into the city, from the suburbs. I noticed she did kind of gravitate to kids who were “different” somehow. It’s hard to explain but I believe in a way she and the mixed Pakistani-Puerto Rican girl, or the girl whose parents were from Haiti (just examples), had a shared understanding. Like you I’ve often wished I had known anyone who’d done something like what we were doing, and been painfully aware my child must go through many experiences in the middle-school / high-school world without me alongside, that would be difficult for even a very emotionally strong adult to weather with calm. My daughter told me she likes it when I just listen, and try not to analyze it on her behalf unless she actually asks for intervention or is really in trouble, but just knowing I’ll always be there, always ready to listen. I think this is going to help me with my son. It’s all uncharted territory. I really believe that it means the most for kids to see the example of what people are DOING in their lives. It certainly sounds to me like Isaiah will know for sure that he is very, very important to both his father and his family, and to you and your family… and he will see how everyone tries to move toward each other, and compromise. Personally, my goal for my son is just to avoid him feeling like there is some kind of divider between his two “halves”, as much as we can make it be so. We’re blessed to have family that really wants to work together, and we try to surround Marco as much as we can with people who are positive about it. We go to a church on Sundays where they are intentional about being welcoming to different types of people. When we’re out & about, though, if someone asks me why I speak to him in Spanish, I just say “because it’s important” and leave it at that. If they’re not supportive, they’re not worth any further explanation from me.