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Michelle Tapia
Dr. B
ENG 317
September 12, 2018
Does Language Define who I am?

I have always felt a little out of place. Somehow I float in a weird in between place, never

belong here nor there. I especially have a hard time identifying with one specific race/ethnicity. I

was born to an Italian- American mother with a strong Boston accent and an African American

father from the heart of the south. Because of this, language was always two different streams of

pronunciation and words flowing together in my young developing mind. My dad left early on

and it was only my moms funny words I had to cling on too. My mother and I moved to New

Mexico when I was four years old. I can remember how my moms english stuck out like a sore

thumb compared to New Mexicans english. If a word ended in the letter r, my mom would

almost never pronounce it. Because I was so young, and living through a culture change I didn’t

develop the way I talked like her, and I also didn’t develop the typical “New Mexico” slang

either.

After being in New Mexico for a couple of years I was adopted at the age of five by a

Hispanic family. It was a huge adjustment and again I was caught in an overflow of a new

language. My grandparents mostly spoke spanish and so I had to learn the language in order to

try and communicate with my new family. It was a whole new world filled with a whole new

repertoire of words and communication. A world filled with cuentos (old stories), chisme (jokes),

respeto (respect for the elders). Soon words I would pronounce like my mom began to take on

another form. The word car, which I would say as caa, soon became the spanish translation carro.

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But it gets a little tricky because most textbooks will teach the translation for car as coche. I soon

learned to separate the New Mexico ‘’spanish” I spoke at home, and the spanish I learned in

school. I always say how New Mexico spanish was just spanish with a twist. Asking my

grandma for gum was always “Can I have some chiquete?”. Any other spanish speaking region

would say “Can I have some chicle?”. Spanish grammar became something I would differentiate

depending on who I was speaking too. Soon I began to identify as Hispanic and would try my

best to conform in order to bridge the language gap .

I can vividly remember the first time I was questioned about my intelligence and

understanding of language. I was in sixth grade and my middle school was selected for random

LAS spanish testing. By this time in my life, I was fluent in reading, writing, and speaking

spanish. I was a minority among minorities. I was the only african-american child within a fifty

mile radius. Around ten o'clock, three ladies made their way into my classroom. They began to

look around and select students to be tested. There was not a list, it was at their own choice. I sat

patiently waiting to see if my name would be called. Finally I heard Michelle Tapia, I quickly

raise my hand and immediately felt embarrassed when I saw the shocked looks on their faces.

Quickly the other lady turned to the one that called my name and said “Clearly we do not have to

worry about testing her, choose someone else”. I turned away confused, why would they

intentionally skip me? By chance that day my aunt was a substitute teacher for our class, she

stood abruptly. I remember the anger in her voice when she said “How dare you assume that

because she is black she doesn’t understand spanish, I can tell you now that Michelle probably

knows more spanish than a lot of the students in here.” The ladies all looked at each other

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embarrassed. She continued “Regardless of her race, she should have the opportunity to be tested

just the same as every other student in this class”. The lady quickly apologized and took me to

the testing area. Needless to say I passed the LAS testing that day with an almost perfect score.

As I grew I realized the impact that day had on me. I do not believe those ladies were

intentionally being racist.The situation made me realize that although in America we believe that

language is universal, an we are the melting pot of the world, it is not always the case. The area I

grew up was almost all Hispanic people, without a lot of influences from outside culture. The

people speak a perfect form of spanglish developed and adapted over the years as their own.

Although we live in an “inclusive” country. Alot of areas aren’t subjected to diversity. To the

women testing, I was the minority, the outsider. They did not expect me to understand the

language and culture and I realize now it is understandable. To this day my grandparents rarely

speak english and when they do, its a couple of english words mixed in with spanish. My aunts

and uncles went to school and only spoke spanish with their friends, because there wasn’t any

other ethnicities. It is easy to forget about the outside world when everyday you wake up and are

surrounded by people exactly like you. Language and culture becomes universal when we put

forth the effort to make it that way. The ladies that tested me weren’t willing to include me. It

wasn’t right but it was how they were raised. They were not comfortable with me, because they

were never taught about inclusiveness. As I’ve grown I have made it a point to use my diversity

and unique situation to shed light on how others can feel more comfortable being immersed in a

new culture and language.

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 I’ve gone through many transformations in life. I learned to adapt to my surroundings. As

an adult I still have trouble identifying myself in just one category. I hope one day that race and

ethnicity will no longer matter. I would hope that a child would be able to learn whatever

language they wish without being judged, saying it isn’t “who” they are. Regardless of what

people say, I will continue to identify myself as the eccentric Bostonian/New Mexican, townie,

hispanic, black girl. Loving mi vida loca.