It’s October 15th (at the time of this writing)! And that means it is the last day of Hispanic Heritage Month in the US! I am very proud to be Hispanic. I am proud of what being Hispanic means to me. As a daughter of two different backgrounds, there has always been a struggle to accept what it means to identify as “White” or “Hispanic.” Unfortunately, there are so many expectations about WHO I must be or HOW I must act to be considered either one. It’s an unfair reality to put on a person- especially when I was a young kid.
From an early age, I always felt a little different. In first grade, my teacher asked all students up to her desk (individually) to discuss different things about our home life and our progress at school. When asked if English was the only language spoken at home, I answered no. Sure, everyone spoke English but my mom ALSO spoke Spanish. That evening my mom received a phone call asking about her Spanish speaking and if it was often, in front of the kids, if it would affect the family, and how long she had spoken it. Spanish was my mother’s primary language for a very long time. She learned English as a young kiddo and as an adult spoke with absolutely no accent when speaking English. She was, what we sexily call today, bilingual. Yup, I said it, sexily. Being able to speak two languages is super appealing to employers, colleges, friends, etc. I might also add that in my experience, it is more sexy if you are White and speak two languages. It’s a privilege whereas if you are me, it is an expectation and not something to be proud of because it is an inherent part of who I am supposed to be. Here’s the kicker- I don’t speak Spanish. Latinos everywhere are divided on if this makes me “less” of a Hispanic. Questions have risen over the years that totally shamed me and made me question my own identity.
After that first phone call home from my first grade teacher, my mother told me to not tell anyone that she spoke Spanish. She didn’t want me to be treated differently. It wasn’t until middle school that I began taking Spanish and, by then, it was really hard. I never did particularly well in Spanish class. I had a great accent but was terrible at learning the proper grammar of Spanish. My grandparents (who are fluent Spanish speakers) would help me with my homework and I wouldn’t pass my assignments because while my Spanish was “technically” correct, it wasn’t proper. From a sociological perspective, I sort of followed the course of assimilation without trying. I am a third generation Hispanic woman and, sadly, around that time language is often lost within families. It wasn’t intentional on my part. The language was just never the most important part of being Hispanic. I learned how to make Mexican Christmas cookies from a young age and make Cascarones at Easter. I can proudly down a plate of pan dulce by myself- which I really shouldn’t brag about. I loved learning the different genres of Mexican music that my grandparents introduced me to. My husband has continued my education of music and is always introducing me to new Latino artists and sounds. Growing up, family was the most important thing and being part of the collective was paramount. Yet, I was not enough. I was different because I was proud of my family’s heritage yet I wasn’t “Hispanic enough” for others. Talk about a mind f^#k.
When my husband and I moved to Spain in 2016, I was sort of thrust into HAVING to learn Spanish. I learned the basics and could get by! Spain Spanish is muy diferente than what I grew up with so it took some time to adjust to the beautiful accents, rhythms, and tones of my new home. I was able to shop, give directions, dine, and muddle through conversations with friends and neighbors (with loving help). Heck, I even had to go to the ER by myself when my husband (a Spanish fluent, Mexican-American, first generation, handsome devil) was on TDY (that’s military for temporary duty) in Norway. That’s when I knew I could survive by myself! But it was still hard.
My daughter is ¾ of legitimate Hispanic beauty. We are trying our best to teach her Spanish but it is not easy. It requires a lot of consistency and repetition. I can do a little bit of that but it mostly falls on my husband to do the real work of it. My hope for her is that she embraces her ethnic identity on her terms; that she decides what it all means to her. There is no one right way to be anybody! Therefore, she has the right to define her life on her terms. All we can do is show her who we are in our identities.
As I said at the beginning, I am proud to be Hispanic. I am proud of my own understanding of my culture and the things that matter to my Hispanic part of the family. I am sure someone might see me as “less” or “inauthentic” and that’s fine- that’s a reflection of them and how they understand they need to live their culture. I can’t shame them for not seeing life the way I do- they haven’t lived my life! I am usually pretty envious that people are better Spanish speakers than me or know these amazing things about the culture that I don’t! I wish I was better at actively living some parts of the culture that my blood belongs to. I am always looking for ways to connect with that (literal) half of myself. I am thankful to belong to two different cultures- it’s a privilege that I thank the universe for. Happy Hispanic Heritage Month, all!
The Salty Exchange 