How Learning New Languages Has Shaped My Identity

By France François

My family moved from Haiti to Miami, Florida in the early ‘80s — and as is typical of the first-generation immigrant experience, our ethnic enclave could feel removed from our adopted country. Family dinners meant rice and beans, rather than tuna casseroles. Maltas, not Cokes or sweet tea, were the beverage of choice to cool off with on hot summer days. Kisses on the cheek were the preferred greeting over firm handshakes. At home, my primary language was Haitian Creole, not English.

And so, when I received my very first invitation to the birthday party of a non-Haitian girl in my class, I was both excited and confused. For me, parties were essentially family gatherings where all your cousins came to dance to kompa music and tell stories from the Haiti of their memories. I didn’t have any stories to share with this American girl, and she wasn’t related to me — so what was I supposed to do at her party?

“Americans have parties so you can bring them a present,” my little brother told everyone matter-of-factly when I informed my parents of the invitation. My father scoffed at the idea.“Si w ap fèe fèt, ou pi biyen pase m!” — “If you’re having a birthday party, clearly you’re doing better than I am, so why would I bring you a gift?”