As I find myself seated in Spanish class every Wednesday evening, accompanied by a supportive friend, it may seem surprising given that Spanish was my first language from birth. However, this class is far from the basics; it’s focused on “Spanish Film and Conversation.” Despite my upbringing, I feel the pangs of guilt as fluent Spanish speakers point out my shortcomings. It’s not merely laziness that has led me here, but rather a complex mix of cultural and geographical influences that many of us from diverse backgrounds can relate to.
Cultural Context
In the 70s and 80s, speaking any language other than English was not just socially unacceptable; it was perilous. My father often recounted tales of his immigrant father facing harsh punishment for speaking Spanish in school. At that time, the Latino population in the U.S. was only about 9 million, a mere fraction of the demographic landscape we see today, where it has surged to nearly 60 million and is expected to double by 2060. Back then, assimilation was the name of the game for all immigrant families, and Spanish was often pushed to the sidelines. Today, even with the rise of U.S.-born Latinos who primarily speak English, embracing Spanish is increasingly recognized as a vital aspect of American identity.
Geographical Shifts
The decline of my bilingual fluency began when we left our vibrant Hispanic community in upper Manhattan, where Spanish was omnipresent. My brother and I relocated to New Hampshire, a stark contrast where Spanish was met with confusion, often leading to questions like, “Do you speak Puerto Rican?” As we adapted to this new environment, my language skills began to fade. To add to the irony, I ended up attending a French-Canadian Catholic school that offered only French classes. During my first Spanish lesson in years, my brain mixed up languages, causing me to mistakenly say “gateau” instead of “pastel.”
In my early twenties, I regained some of my linguistic prowess while living in Santiago, Chile, and Mexico City. Upon returning to the U.S., I was thrilled to converse with my mother in our native language. However, after her passing a decade ago, I noticed a significant withdrawal from Spanish in my life. The memories of our shared moments—dancing to salsa in the kitchen, listening to Julio Iglesias, and enjoying Abuela’s tostones—were too poignant, and I distanced myself from the language that held our history.
Now, as I commit to improving my Spanish skills, I realize that my motivation extends beyond practicality. It’s also a journey of healing. My daughter is now learning Spanish at school, and she doesn’t mind when I play my “Rev Up Latin” station; instead, we dance together, bridging our cultural heritage.
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In summary, my journey to rediscovering my first language is not just about language acquisition but also about reconnecting with my roots and healing from loss. The challenges of language and culture are intertwined in our identities, and embracing them can lead to profound personal growth.