By Oriana Peñaranda
It was a hot day in the middle of another glorious Washington D.C. summer when my younger sibling, Ricardo, and I rushed to find the bus terminal at Union Station. We were dragging precious cargo – a life’s worth of belongings and a handcrafted specially designed CPU made by Ricardo for their animation needs. We were already feeling the physical and emotional weight of their move to NYC and desperately wanted to find the bus terminal. As the eldest sibling and self-proclaimed leader of this two-person pack, I went over to a couple to ask for directions. But before I even finish my question about the bus terminal, the man interrupts me and screams, “SPEAK ENGLISH.” I didn’t realize that had I asked my question in Spanish. I was too shocked to assure the man I spoke English, and instead, I made myself small, apologized, and walked away. At that moment, I felt a lot of fear that slowly shifted into feelings of shame for not defending myself. But I know even in a progressive and diverse city like Washington D.C., there is still a lot of hatred toward immigrants. It was not safe to challenge someone who was already escalating a minor situation. Growing up, our mother constantly reminded us that “uno nunca sabe” what someone with hate in their heart is capable of doing. My heart aches to know that defending myself and demanding respect can come with such heavy consequences.
Ricardo and I are bilingual Venezuelan-Americans, and we speak to each other mainly in Spanglish. So, it’s not the first time I mistakenly spoke Spanish when I intended my words to come out in English and vice versa. But usually, people laugh it off and joke about it. Seldomly am I screamed at for committing a low-stakes social faux pas. But in the United States, the country that raised me, there is still a stigma associated with speaking Spanish. Unless you are white, then you’re considered cultured or a global citizen. It’s a frustrating double standard because if Spanish is your first language, you’re not given the same praise of being a global citizen for learning English. Similarly, when I am speaking Spanish and forget a word or feel it more natural to say something in English, my Latinidad is demoted, and I am called a gringa.
“But in the United States, the country that raised me, there is still a stigma associated with speaking Spanish. Unless you are white, then you’re considered cultured or a global citizen”
For fear of being ostracized, I would work so hard to keep my Spanish and English separate and code-switch between the two personas I created for myself under the pretense of these two languages. And even though I am fluent in both, it’s exhausting. Regardless of the language, I am speaking or the context of the conversation, I feel obligated to speak very clearly and cleanly. For instance, I over-enunciate words, use phrases or idioms I don’t understand, and take long awkward pauses while struggling to recall a word I’ve forgotten in the language I am speaking. I refused to toggle between the two languages because it felt like I was admitting I’m not Venezuelan or American. A “true” Venezuelan or a “true” American doesn’t need to use another language to express themselves. I was constantly policing myself and internalizing others’ expectations of my identity.
Recently I joined a cohort of Latinx entrepreneurs, and the majority are first-generation immigrants. It’s the first space where I was encouraged to express myself in the language(s) that felt natural. And the moment I allowed these two languages to fuse, I felt liberated. I could authentically express myself without fear of judgment. Porque soy Venezolana y soy Americana and keeping these two languages separate feels like dissociating integral parts of myself to please others’ expectations. And although it’ll be uncomfortable at times to have to explain to my friends what I mean by “ponte las pilas” o decirle a mi papá lo que es “mansplaining” it’s what I need to show up as my authentic Spanglish speaking self – because yo soy Spanglish.
About the author
Oriana Peñaranda
The Jefa & Founder of Xolo Books – an online bookstore dedicated to intersectional and anticolonialist literature.
