"Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá"
Hispanic Heritage Month Speaking Event

If my Spanish isn’t the best, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s a bit of a complicated relationship between Spanish and I. But I’m learning to be okay with that.

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Being Latina used to be something I was afraid to say, not ashamed, but afraid. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to use that label: I didn’t have a huge community where I grew up, I didn’t understand the stereotypical jokes about things Latino families did, and I didn’t speak Spanish. That last always made me feel the guiltiest about calling myself a Latina. What kind of Latina couldn’t speak Spanish? 

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I had grown up hearing Spanish. I could understand it enough to follow, (which was a feat in and of itself with how fast my grandparents talk) but never knew the exact words to respond. I always thought I was a bad Latina because of this; my parents, my Titi, my Tita, my grandparents, they ALL can speak Spanish, but not me. Not exactly a “no sabo” kid but not fluent enough when it mattered. 

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I thought I was bad at being a Latina. I exist, but somewhere in between. Somewhere here but not there. Both my parents are bilingual Latinos; Puerto Rican on my dad’s side and Cuban on my mother’s. Here’s how the story goes: He was born and raised on the island. She immigrated to the US as a child. Despite being from two islands with close proximity, it took college in California to meet. And the rest is history (well their history at least)

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My history, well….

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I was born in San José, California (remember I said that my parents met in college?) and I started to be taught English and Spanish. I could speak it, I've got the home videos of me asking for ¡Agua! ¡Agua Mamá! To prove it. But then, I moved to Virginia when I was three. When my parents moved us in they saw kids in the cul-de-sac and decided that they would stop teaching us Spanish, to not confuse us, to help us fit in. Which worked, I guess, but not without a trade off. 

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I’m fortunate that my family is bilingual, so language barriers never really prevented me from interacting with my family. But it would be wrong to say that the barriers weren’t there. Everyone could also joke and laugh with each other in Spanish and there I would sit, on the outskirts. Not purposefully excluded, but it still hurt. I felt like there was an invisible wall between us.

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My (Cuban) grandparents moved to VA when I was in the second grade and I spent many summers with them. I remember early mornings with her and my grandpa listening to the news in Spanish and her Cuban dishes and her singing in Spanish, doting. It was always a mix of accented English and Spanish. Spanish became a language exuding comfort, because that’s what my grandmother spoke and she was always caring for me (if sometimes a bit overwhelmingly) But as I grew, she aged as well.  And the distinction between English and Spanish muddled. Then, Spanish became muddled too. And then I lost her completely.

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I felt like I lost a part of my identity when she and my grandfather passed. Like my one connection to Cuba was gone. My mother was never one to talk about Cuba or much of how she grew up. She’s never said why, but I suspect it’s because she focused so hard on fitting in. She’s proud of her heritage, but it’s more of a private sort of pride. So, I really only had the language they spoke and the meals they made. But my grandmother was gone and along with her went that. 

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It’s bittersweet, but I think my grandparent’s passing made my mother and I’s relationship with our culture (my relationship with Spanish) better. She had always cooked Cuban meals, but now she was trying more and learning to recreate them. And I joined her.  

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I feel like my grandparent’s passing made me realize that my identity didn’t pass with them. Just as my mother was learning to reconnect, I was too. I came to realize that I wasn’t bad at being a Latina. I was just being me. And I’m learning to accept that, accept me. I’m learning to accept that it’s not a perfect relationship. I still feel like I can’t take up space because taking up space is something I’m not allowed to do.  But I’m learning to find my voice. And I’m learning to be confident with it. 

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As for my Spanish, I’m not perfect, far from it, but I’m trying. And I think that’s what matters.