I am a “no sabo kid.”

If you have never heard that term before, it means a person who does not know how to speak Spanish. I didn’t speak Spanish growing up and I don’t speak it fluently now. I often like to blame my parents or grandparents for not teaching me how to speak it, but that is extremely selfish, especially when considering the fact that it was and is often looked down upon for working-class, immigrant, people of color to be bilingual. 

I always remember my mom telling me brief stories about my grandma who grew up in El Paso during segregation. In kindergarten, my grandma was reprimanded — actually, hit with a ruler or swatch — by a teacher for speaking Spanish in the classroom. 

Yet, this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. From paddling to soap in the mouth, punishments like the one my grandmother received were not uncommon as speaking Spanish was essentially outlawed everywhere.

Her teacher said the same thing that many Spanish speakers hear today: speak English we are in America. Latinx students were encouraged to assimilate — which in turn meant not speaking Spanish. 

Tired of this idea, Hispanic activists fought for a place for bilingual education during the Civil Rights Movement. 

Antonia Pantoja established ASPIRA and Evelina Antonetty founded United Bronx Parents (UBP), both organizations which championed the education and progress of Puerto Rican youth in New York City through afterschool programs, counseling, and most importantly bilingual classes. 

Work that these women and other activists did in the name of bilingual education did not stop in the 60s. However, it took a backseat in priority and popularity when I was growing up. Thus, there were no bilingual education programs or opportunities in my primary education. 

I wish I would have learned Spanish so that I did not get looked down upon by people within Latinx and Hispanic community for not speaking Spanish; so that I did not feel the piercing stares when I meet another Latinx person and say I am a “no sabo” kid. 

What these people don’t see is that I didn’t learn because my grandmother’s need to assimilate was in order to survive. For that reason, my Spanish was not seen as important to learn in my household growing up. It’s not that my parents were not proud of the language, they are both fluent, it was that they too were taught that assimilating to the eurocentric norm was the best way to build a better life here in the US. 

A better life in the sense that they would not have to endure the discrimination that my grandmother did. They would not have to endure the racism that accompanies being a non-white person in the United States. 

As a Mexican-American who does not speak Spanish, I often feel embarrassed and disconnected from my culture. I am tired of the gasp followed by the shocked “you don’t speak Spanish,” that leaves a Spanish speaker’s mouth when I break the news that I am not fluent.

What these people don’t realize is that said reaction feels like a punch in the gut. A lessening of my experience as a Latinx woman. A punch that diminishes my identity as a proud Mexican-American, a Chicana, a woman of color. It is a feeling that I know no one would want to feel. 

I know I should not feel this way; speaking the Spanish language does not make me any less of any of my cultural identities. I would have loved to have bilingual education in my schools growing up. 

While I did not have the opportunity to learn another language in school, I am happy to say that in more recent years dual-language schools are popping up everywhere around the United States. 

As a country of immigrants, there is a push being made in the United States to catch up to the countries outside of the U.S. that have been providing dual-language programs for years — these programs are not a new fad. 

Living in a place like the United States that is a melting pot of cultures, bilingual education does not have to be just Spanish but should be available in any language because after all, there is no official language in the U.S.

Thus as I drive around Los Angeles and see dual-language programs that are being offered at local schools, I hope that no student will miss an opportunity to feel more connected to their own culture or the culture of others. That no student will feel that is looked down upon, like I was, because of a language barrier.