Post 6: “How to Tame a Wild Tongue” Thoughts and Not Knowing Spanish
It’s Friday night. My high school friends and I are on FaceTime having our weekly Friday game night, a tradition we started to stay connected during the quarantine. This time, my friend is FaceTiming us from her living room, which means her family has been making constant appearances throughout our call. Her mom pops into the frame, says “Hello,” and asks a question in Spanish. Everyone answers, except me. There is an awkward silence as the call awaits my answer. Flustered, I blurt out “Huh?” Everyone, including my friend’s mom, laughs at me. My face turns tomato red and I keep quiet for the rest of game night.
I’ve known my friends for 4+ years and we’ve bonded over shared interests, classes, and similar backgrounds. I’m the daughter of two immigrants (my mom from Nicaragua and my dad from El Salvador) and so are they (their parents from Mexico, Guatemala, and other Spanish-speaking countries). The only difference between us is they grew up speaking Spanish and I didn’t. This means I’M LATINA AND I DON’T SPEAK SPANISH. Growing up, I was ashamed of this. My parents speak Spanish, why don’t I? My family speaks Spanish, why don’t I? My friends speak Spanish, why don’t I? Even today, I carry that shame with me everywhere. I’ve been taking Spanish classes for five years now, but in every single class, I can’t help but feel embarrassed for speaking in an “American” accent. I grew up speaking English, so of course, I’m going to have an accent. So, WHY AM I SO ASHAMED OF MYSELF?
I started thinking about this after reading “How to Tame a Wild Tongue” by Gloria Anzaldúa. I even came to a conclusion: I realize my shame is a result of how I have been treated by other people. Anzaldúa talks about shame toward one’s native language in the section “Linguistic Terrorism,” which was one of the most relatable pieces of writing I have ever read.
Anzaldúa writes:
“Chicanas who grew up speaking Chicano Spanish have internalized the belief that we speak poor Spanish. It is illegitimate, a bastard language.”
Anzaldúa implies there’s a linguistic hierarchy between Spanish speakers. Or as I see it, between Spanish speakers there are oppressor-oppressed patterns of behavior. For example, Chicanas are shamed for using Spanish that has been influenced by colonization. Despite language evolution being a natural occurrence, Chicano Spanish, and those who speak it, are attacked for being “lesser than” original Spanish. To clarify, I am not Chicana, but I can’t help but feel our treatment is similar. My native language is English, but I’ve been directly and indirectly attacked for this throughout my life. I began this post with a story about my last Friday game night. That was not an isolated incident. That was just the LATEST jab at me not knowing Spanish. In fact, my Spanish-speaking friends have laughed at me before for not understanding Spanish. So have my parents and my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and many many more who have been close to me or not. Even though we are cut from the same cloth, I am made to feel lesser than other children of immigrants just because I lack Spanish skills.
Anzaldúa continues:
“Repeated attacks on our native language diminish our sense of self. The attacks continue throughout our lives.”
By using the term “native language” and not being specific to Chicano Spanish, Anzaldúa allows this quote to hold meaning for anyone who has been shamed for what they speak. For me, that is speaking English while surrounded by other Spanish speakers. What caught my attention with this quote was Anzaldúa’s conclusion: being attacked diminishes our sense of self. This is where I started to connect the dots in my own life. Specifically, when a Spanish-speaker has laughed at me, I’ve assumed it was my fault. It’s my fault I don’t know Spanish. It’s my fault I don’t understand. Anzaldúa has helped me see this isn’t true. It’s no one’s fault I don’t know Spanish, but there is a reason I feel shame about it. It’s because other people have repeatedly worsened my insecurities by using their knowledge against me. In other words, rubbing in my face that they know Spanish and I don’t.
Still, I ask, WHY HAVE I TAKEN IT SO PERSONALLY? Again, Anzaldúa has the answer:
“If a person, Chicana or Latina, has a low estimation of my native tongue, she also has a low estimation of me.”
Anzaldúa has created a clear link between your native language and your sense of self. Here, she explains that an attack on your language is an attack on your being. How Spanish-speakers have treated me has seriously messed with how I perceive myself. While they aren’t intentionally trying to hurt me, they have inevitably made me feel bad about myself by making fun of my Spanish skills.
This post isn’t meant to call out or “hate on” the Spanish-speakers I know. I’ve always been encouraged to learn Spanish and everyone has helped me in my Spanish classes in one way or another. I really want to learn Spanish, which is why I felt the need to examine why my desire to learn has been intertwined with the shame of needing to learn. “How to Tame a Wild Tongue” has made me aware of how people affect how I see myself. I don’t doubt people will continue to shame me, but I hope being aware will help me be less ashamed.
