I'm Sorry I Don't Speak Spanish

 

Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash.

My maiden name, which is now my middle name, is Ramirez. My dad is from Guadalajara, Mexico, and my mom studied Spanish extensively to the point at which she was almost fluent. I cannot speak Spanish. I understand some of it and I can say a few words and phrases, but I have only scratched the surface. My mom used to tell me that my dad was worried that my sister and I would become confused if he tried to teach us. I wonder if there was something deeper than that: I wonder if he, a Mexican immigrant, was trying to assimilate into American culture and teach his children to be American. 

When my dad took my sister and me to Mexico one year, I found myself apologizing to my family for not speaking Spanish. 

I have worked in meetings for over a decade, and conference attendees would approach me and fire off questions in rapid Spanish, to which I would apologetically answer "no habla español." They didn't try to hide their disappointment and, in some instances, disapproval. I was either trying to be white passing or I was feeling shame for not speaking my father's first language (or both at the same time).

I grew up in a very white school in a mostly white community where I was, to them, clearly not white (you know by the number of times people ask "what are you?"). I was never offered the role of Mary in the Christmas pageant at church; it always went to the blonde-haired blue-eyed girl, because that's what a Middle Eastern female looks like, right? As I grew older, people stopped me in stores to ask me a question, assuming I worked there. A former boyfriend once joked that he figured my dad worked in construction since he was Mexican. A college friend lamented to me one day how her boyfriend thought Shakira was attractive and she felt Shakira had far too many curves; then, upon realizing she was speaking to a curvy Latina, she said something along the lines of "no offense." I straightened my hair for years and it took me over 30 years of my life to embrace my curls.  

America, despite the melting pot that it is, can strip away a big piece of our identity. Our land was stolen from Native Americans and Europeans decimated their culture. Theirs is the most ignored genocide in history. African slaves were forced to adopt white names and stop practicing their tribal customs and traditions. We have lost such incredible culture and continue to try and stamp it out. In my opinion, too many people tell other people to "speak English (because this is America)" in a supermarket, on a bus, in the street, etc. As my sister-in-law would say: find your own business and mind it.

I'm currently attending the Naturally Latino Conference hosted by the Audubon Naturalist Society. Today during the Cafecito Chat, I spoke with another Latina who is mixed and had a similar experience as me growing up. She went to a mostly white school. She wasn't taught Spanish. She felt too white for the Latinx community and too brown for the white community. (We actually had more in common than we realized: we both did conservation work in Australia when we were in college!). What this tells me is there are more people in this country who are growing up confused about which box(es) to tick off, which group to sit with at the lunch table, and how to identify within and outside of their different families. 

I don't think I have a big takeaway or profound thought here; I just hope that there is change. I hope parents embrace giving their children a bilingual childhood. I hope that others like me can embrace all of their rich heritage earlier in life. I hope that we stop whitewashing our history and our culture and start embracing and promoting diversity (and not because it's hip to do so at the moment or a company needs to meet a quota for hiring). There's work to be done.

Today, when I say "I'm sorry I don't speak Spanish," I'm not apologizing to relatives or to a conference attendee. It's a personal statement of regret. But you're never too old to learn something new...there's hope down the road.