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By Araceli Arroyo — With a name like Araceli I should know how to speak Spanish. Since my mother went through the trouble of giving me such a “Spanish” name she should have had the follow through to teach me the language. (Madeline and Gloria my younger sisters I feel cannot share in my distress) My cheeks flush when confused Spanish-only speaking people as me for directions or something in the street and I can only shake my head no and say,” Sorry, no hablo espanol,” and leave them in my shadow as I walk away. My grandmother used to only speak English to me as a child, now she goes back and forth, sometimes speaking at length with so many words, so many sounds and thoughts but I stop her with my look of complete ignorance and she rephrases her statement to a simple sentence with harsh consonants so unnatural to her.
The 2000 U.S. Census reported about two thirds of the U.S. Latino population, then about 36 million, speak Spanish frequently and with “some degree of fluency”. One-half said, “very well.” Other studies have noted that the immigrants or first-generation of Latinos communicate largely in Spanish. Only 35 percent of second-generation Latinos speak Spanish and the third generation communicates primarily in English. I am part of that third generation and I can feel the gap between the generations. What’s happening here? Have parents forgotten the importance of learning the language they used to communicate with their own parents? Did being successful in America mean trading one language for another? Or are we simply and truly American now? I live, eat, and sleep here in America and the “homeland” is my grandmother’s memory not my own.
Is assimilation a choice or inevitable? There are many people living in the United States who I think qualify as those who choose not to assimilate into American culture. My Mexican grandmother lived in Chicago for 27 years and she does not speak English at all. She had six children and they all can speak Spanish and English. They had to speak Spanish in order to communicate with their parents and they had to learn English to succeed in school. Assimilation is the act of becoming part of something bigger, so in this case it means becoming part of the United States for my grandmother, which she didn’t do.
My mother however I think had the choice of how far she wanted to become part of that something bigger. I asked my mother something about Pancho Villa and when she didn’t know I became angry with her. “ Aren’t you Mexican?” I said and she replied “ I’m not Mexican- Mexican, I’m Mexican- American,” with a huge emphasis on American. I’m sure there is a huge difference between Mexicans in Mexico and Mexicans here in the United States but I wonder how vast those differences have to be until she just says I’m American and leaves out the mention of Mexico all together. What does it matter then if I don’t speak Spanish or know the culture or history. I was born here wasn’t I? But then I’m always reminded when I mispronounce a Spanish word or my dad says some word I have no clue as to what it means and then my family laughs at me and calls me gringa. That’s why it’s important because I’m not a white girl.
My father is very different from my mother. He proudly yells,” Boricua!” ( Word for Puerto Rico) with his fists in the air at any given time. But he is intrinsically all-American. He grew up playing football, his favorite song is “Free Bird” by Lynard Skynard, he was a Green Beret in the Army, and he is a firefighter. (Although Puerto Rico is a part of the United States it is still a place full of its own people, own cultures and traditions and language. Many people want the island to become part of the United States and many people think it should be independent. Alas, it is a commonwealth.) The difference between these two is that my father does no act like there is a huge difference between Puerto Ricans here and Puerto Ricans in Puerto Rico. They are still his people and he embraces it, he loves it.
Mexico is an afterthought to my mother. Whenever her employer calls they ask for Theresa? There is no Theresa here, my mother’s name is Teresita. Why does she change her name? To make it easier for other people?
No matter how much I complain about my name I could never imagine changing it in order to make life easier in this Anglo culture. My name is butchered everyday, some people cannot roll that “r” or let that “a” last a little longer like my grandmother but I would never change my name to something English.
My mother had a choice in whether or not speak to her children in Spanish and through the experiences she had as a child she decided not to speak the language. My mother had a terrible time in school, while I hid a part of me she was always confused for something she was not. She went to an all black school and in those days if your weren’t black you were white. She used to tell my sisters and I about when those kids would pull her hair and call her names and how everything was so backwards to her. She had no help from her mother and I doubt in the public school system even then teachers really cared if their students learned or not. I can imagine my mother sitting in class and having trouble understanding what was going on. Completely confused as the rest of the class surpassed her.
In the fifth grade a new student from Mexico entered our class and only spoke Spanish. She was tall, pretty and had long frizzy hair that went all the way down to her butt the teacher instructed me to help this girl. I immediately told the teacher I could not and the job was given to someone else. Sometimes in class I watch this girl ask other students questions and they would shoo her away by quickly allowing her to copy their answers. Most of the time I’d catch her pouring white glue into the palm of her hand. She’d sit there with a hand full of glue and when I’d look again she would peel away the paste like a second layer of skin. She wasn’t trying, I concluded. I wonder if I were in the same situation if I would be any different.
The English language is my friend. I have no qualms about speaking English, the fact that I only speak English is my problem and although it would appear I am apart of the crowd and not different from any other American girl in her twenties out there the fact that I am feeling a sense of a loss of culture is vital. My sense of a private individuality is something that is missing, something that is extremely important. I think just because the fact that name is Araceli Arroyo should mean that I speak Spanish. That’s the language my identity is wrapped up in, that’s the way I will be marked for the rest of my life.
First of all, let me say that I am very grateful to have come across your article. I too am a 3rd generation Mexican-American who doesn’t speak Spanish and feels more assimilated into “White America” than integrated. My mother was never taught Spanish because in the 1960s and 1970s, it was seen as nearly an abomination to speak any other language than English in the public school system. My father speaks a very slang form (but nonetheless) of Spanish, but was too busy working to nuture my bilingual linguistics. As a result, the only competency of Spanish I have obtained can be attributed to my secondary and college education which by no means, creates a setting that fully immerses a student to become a fluent speaker.
I was born and raised in Utah (90% white.)Both of my parents are college educated, have earned their masters degrees, and made successful careers in the Public Education system. For Utah Hispanics, that is an extremely rare case. My surrounding community was of white middle-class upbringing, so the only other Latinos I felt I could relate to, were my family who were in the same situation as I. I never listened to mariachi, had a quincenaria, or watched telemundo. Instead, most of my habitual norms were of “American” cultivation; my public media figures white. Could I or my parents changed this? Or is it just a part of this so called “melting-pot” where assimilation into American conventions is an integral part of becoming a productive and accepted citizen. (As seen with the European immigrants in the 19th and 20th century)
At times, I feel that this detachment was inevitable. My circumstances to engage myself in the Chicano culture were few, if any. Now, as a result of this, I have a fear of even attempting to interact with members of the Mexican-American community for fear of rejection and dismissal of what limited amounts of the Latino culture I have been able inherit.
Yes, my parents’ house has a series of Diego Rivera paintings and other pieces of art that speak the voice of Chicano culture. Yes my family makes homemade tamales every Christmas. Yes, we have mariachis at all of our family weddings. But there are so many more essential elements that compose a member of a culture: both objectively and subjectively.
The definition of Mexican-American will undergo changes once generations start to build in families. If circumstances play out as it did in the past, Mexican-Americans will undergo the same cultural transition as European immigrants.
Seeing as the Latino population is increasing in the United States, how long before integration eventually turns into assimilation? Why must one no longer retain their original identity in order to create an accepted public image?
The dilemma continues.
It’s so funny as I read this I related on so many levels. All of my close friends speak Spanish and I am the only one out of the 6 of us who doesn’t speak Spanish. I have tried but my own self-consciousness on how I sound overwhelms me and I find myself not even trying to speak Spanish. I took four years of Spanish in high school and passed with an A and the same for my college course where I placed in intermediate spanish. Although I understand Spanish and can speak it, not fluently at all, i still can’t get over the fact that I know I will say something wrong so instead of sounding like an idot miss pronouncing and using the wrong form I unfortunately decided on several occasions just to speak English and hope that the person who is speaking to me in Spanish will understand what I am saying.