¡“COÑO TE GOLPEASTE MI AUTO”! I was startled from my sleep by the sound of
a blaring horn. As I sat up in my seat and looked to my right I noticed both the driver’s side
doors were ajar and their seats were vacant. I peeked outside the window to see my step-
father, our cab driver, and an older man arguing in front of the car. “Goddamn it we’re gonna
be late! What’s he saying I can’t understand him” groaned my Stepfather.We were in
Washington Heights on 179’th and St.Nicholas just down the block from my apartment, right
before the light and stuck behind a double parked 2009 Honda Odyssey. “COÑO MIRA
ESO” exclaimed the cabbie, “my friend I sorry pero I have to call my insurance”. I stepped
out of the car and walked up to my step-dad to assess the situation. “Nelson” he turned to me
with a tired expression “call your mother and tell her we’re gonna miss the fist few minutes
of the town hall”. Both the cabbie and old man were arguing in Spanish over who was at
fault for the incident, “¿Porque tú estabas manejando tan rápido?” Accused the old man. “¿Y
porque tu estabas estacionando en doble fila en la calle?” clapped back the cabbie. “Nelson
what are they saying”, my stepfather asked. That’s when our cabbie turned to me and began
speaking to me very quickly in Spanish, and though I could string together basic sentences
his speed and vocabulary left me dumbstruck. He looked at me with a contorted expression
and said “¿How you mom Bóricua pero you no habla español?”. Embarrassed and unsure of
how to respond I quickly apologised and waited for my stepfather until the situation was
resolved.
About an hour later I was standing in the back of a crowded middle school
auditorium, the seats were lined with families and faculty. Representative Adriano Espaillat
stood behind a podium on stage, while my Principal, several people in suits and some
teachers stood beside him. People were approaching the podium bringing forward community
concerns and other issues that needed to be addressed but I was still digesting the cabbies
words from earlier. How was it that I came from two caribbean and Latino families but I
could barely speak our own language? I even lived in Washington Heights which was
otherwise known as little Dominican Republic. Anyone who’s walked down broadway could
tell you about the smell of Malecón in the air and hearing bachata from the courtyard by the
United Palace theatre. How was it that I lived somewhere where the Spanish language was so
common but I could barely speak it? Granted while my mother did speak Spanish, we
predominantly spoke English. Matter of fact most of my mother’s Puerto Rican family spoke
predominantly English as my grandfather and his siblings were raised in The Bronx.
However, this did not excuse my lack of knowledge as it only meant that I was missing an
essential part of my culture and identity. It was then I decided I needed to not just learn but
master Spanish.

The Spanglish Plight

For the remainder of my middle school years I spent as much time as possible
cultivating my Spanish. I would listen to songs and translate the lyrics, I would converse with
my family members strictly in Spanish, and I made sure to pay extra attention whenever my
grandmother watched Caso Cerado. My understanding improved but when it came to
vocabulary and speaking to Native speakers it was still difficult. It wasn’t until my freshman
year of high school when I took my first Spanish class. I started from the basics, learning the
days of the week, the alphabet and proper grammar. My Spanish teacher was a non native
speaker so he understood my curiosity and encouraged my ambition by offering me extra
support. For the remainder of the year my knowledge was bolstered and I even scored high
on my regents. For the remainder of high school I continued to improve my Spanish, going
on to take AP and Honors classes. I no longer felt the shame of being a “no sabo kid”,
someone who was Latino but didn’t speak spanish.
One might ask, why is there so much stigma towards non Spanish speaking Latinos
especially considering that many children of immigrants are Latino Americans? Well the
same stigma applies if the language barrier was reversed. The spanglish plight many children
of immigrants face forces them to learn how to navigate two worlds that demand perfection
and conformity in order to be accepted. These language barriers not only cause issues within
families but they can impede their ability to communicate effectively and progress in
academic and professional environments. Though many migrants move to the United States
in the pursuit of a better life for themselves and their families, the fear of alienation and threat
of xenophobia inhibit their ability to educate their children on their culture. This should not
be the case, America was built on the backs of immigrants and as such we must continue to
learn how to accept their culture and not assimilate them. As for the Latino community we
must take it upon ourselves to educate our children on where they come from and to embrace
our culture.
Now as a young man proficient in both English and Spanish I am able to navigate the
world comfortably and confident. I am a more worldly and knowledgeable person and can
take pride in my ability and culture. Funny enough now whenever my step-father needs
assistance translating he refers to me for help. If only I could see the cab driver from that day
one last time, I would’ve told him “Déjame tranquilo viejo” like any other kid.