First To Not Know Spanish

As mentioned in a previous article, communicating in Spanish was difficult for me. I could not read, write, or speak fluently in Spanish (more was discussed in the previous article: First Accent). I was so annoyed when people noticed my accent whenever I spoke. I got tired of getting bullied for not speaking Spanish well in Mexico by family members that I began to dislike the language. When I spoke Spanish, it sounded choppy, and I would often mispronounce words. When I spoke English, people would notice my accent and assume that I was born in Mexico or that Spanish was my first language.

I began this constant battle in my head where I blamed the language for causing me more harm than good. There were also moments where I blamed myself for not knowing it. This language is supposed to open opportunities for me, but it is actually doing the opposite. This language felt like my weakness. I decided at a young age that I would not speak the language anymore. If there were no benefits of knowing it, why should I bother learning it? Why should I care?

I began to speak less Spanish with my family members in Mexico. I started thinking of ways I could change my speech to hide my accent. I began recording myself and looking in the mirror to see and hear what others heard when I spoke English with an accent. I started avoiding certain words in my day-to-day speech. I began to avoid words that ended with "-tion." I tried my hardest to not say words like "position" and "situation." Once I started removing those specific words, people did not recognize my accent right away anymore.

I thought that if I could not do well in Spanish, then I must do my absolute hardest to become perfect or advance in the English language. Since I did not speak much in Mexico because of the language barrier, I made up for it in English. I felt free and powerful speaking and expressing myself in the language that I knew better. English felt safe and comfortable. I felt unstoppable using my words to communicate with others and let people into my world.

I was a chatterbox when I was a kid. I loved expressing myself so much that I wanted to become an actress. I wanted to become an actress because I would get paid to talk! I would get paid to memorize lines, act them out, look good, and share with the audience the words I rehearsed. Being an actress was one of my top four professions I wanted to pursue when I was older.

I always counted English as my native language; it was the language in which I felt accepted. It was the language that never betrayed me when I wanted to convey an emotion. It was a language where I could protect the ones I loved, and I could also cause pain to the people around me. I understood the importance of language and words; I understood that words had meaning. I knew I had to learn and grasp the language well so I could help my parents communicate with others.

At an early age, I became my parents' interpreter whenever they had difficulty speaking English. When I was a child, I thought my parents did not want to learn English because they had us, their children, to translate for them. I would joke and say the only reason they had us (my siblings and me) was because they wanted slaves. Both of my parents laughed and brushed it off. There were times when I felt like I was the parent, and they were my children, oblivious to the world around them. Sometimes, I was glad that they did not understand the language because that meant they would not hear the rude comments we would receive from others. I would try to soften or hide some of the unkind words people would say about us in my translation that I would give to my parents.

I give props to my parents, especially my mom, for coming to America at a young age without knowing the language. I felt weak compared to other people; they fought and continue to fight in a land that is foreign to them to build a better life for themselves and their families. I chose to hide parts of who I was to “fit in” because I could, but not my parents. I chose to stay quiet whenever I went to Mexico and use my siblings as interpreters, so when my parents needed me to interpret for them, I was more than willing. I know how hard and frustrating it is to be misunderstood, discriminated against, and unseen. I knew that knowing the language would be helpful to others around me because that meant that the sacrifices my parents made were not in vain.

I decided that English would become my weapon, and I would use it to my advantage to do good in this world. I decided that I would become the voice for my parents and for myself. I decided that I needed others to hear and listen to what I had to say. Words have value. I was put in situations where I knew I had to defend myself and fight for what I believed in. There were times that I had conversations with my mom’s clients and even our landlord, where they assumed I could be pushed around or silent because I was young. They did not take me seriously. So I learned early on that I had to make my presence known. I did not enjoy having conflict in my life, but I welcomed it when it was necessary and productive.

This is why I have so much respect for my parents and why I consider my mom a hero in my book. When I go to Mexico, I deal with the language barrier on weekends, but my mom deals with it almost every day. My mom is the hero here, not me.