Spanish Language Isn’t a Barrier to Latinx Family Love

• Many young Latinx struggle with not being able to speak Spanish fluently to family or friends.
• In 2015, 73% of Latinxs spoke Spanish at home. This is a decrease from 78% in 2015.
• Mendez says that he is not fluent in Spanish and has missed out on many family relationships due to it.

My great-grandmother died in June. She was the matriarch and the reason her 13 children were allowed to move to the United States from Dominican Republic.

Her family grew quickly and she soon had 37 grandchildren and 34 greatgrandchildren. Two more were due to be born.

As she was being buried, more than 300 people came and went from the funeral home to pay their respects for a woman who had made such a difference in the lives of those around her. As my family cried, I went to comfort them. I tried to recall the memories that I had as I approached the casket.

I couldn’t remember any.

The family matriarch had fought Alzheimer’s disease for many years and suffered two strokes before her death. She was permanently disabled from this and she was unable to walk for most of her life. As a teenager, she spoke very little.

As she grew older, her voice became more muffled and eventually she stopped speaking altogether.

Growing up in New York, I learned English. My parents tried to teach Spanish to me by speaking to me in Spanish, but it never worked. However, I learned a lot about it as a child and continued to study Spanish at an intermediate level in highschool and college.

But I was never fluent enough to hold conversations long enough to connect with a large portion of my family members — my great-grandmother being one of them.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t love them or respect them. It’s something I have observed as I get older and was hard to ignore at the funeral of my great-grandmother.

People who don’t speak Spanish fluently and those from other cultures feel similar feelings about missing out on family relationships.

According to a study conducted by the Pew Research Center in 2015, the number of Latinx people who speak Spanish at home sat at 73% percent, a decrease from the 78% percent reported in 2006.

This, compounded with constantly being asked when I’m going to learn Spanish, along with not feeling “Latinx” enough.

Before a shower one night, I decided to listen to an episode of NPR’s podcast, “Code Switch” that featured The Kid Mero, one-half of the comedy collective on Showtime’s “Desus & Mero,” who spoke about being Dominican-American, and so much of what he said resonated with me.

Mero told a story about teaching his children Spanish in Spanish. He also talked about how he laughed about his German-American wife trying to teach his kids Spanish.

It resonated with me because he spoke about how Dominican people speak Spanish — very fast and in a particular dialect — and how he felt formal Spanish might not give him the tools to communicate with family members.

I related to both sides of this story — Mero and his wife.

Many young Latinx struggle with not being fluent in Spanish

One reason I don’t speak Spanish is because of trauma — for lack of a better word.

The humiliation of speaking poor Spanish is a constant reminder of how bad you are. I don’t want to make mistakes, my brain is in overdrive, and it completely shuts down.

While it might not be the same, Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez also spoke about not being fluent in Spanish and needing “public practice” to improve after a 2019 interview with the Spanish-language network Univision. It was encouraging to see her admit her Spanish struggles, which I sought validation for.

I have learned Spanish fluently over the years. Duolingo is a great app to brush up your Spanish skills. I already know the majority of the information they offer.

It also doesn’t have a setting for “Dominican Spanish,” making it feel useless to learn this way.

Slowly, I am coming to terms my position on learning Spanish.

In an essay for HipLatina, Journalist Samantha Leal wrote that her lack of fluency in Spanish doesn’t mean she lacks any Latinidad.

“Spanish is an inherent part of the Latino identity. As it should be,” Leal wrote. “You can identify with your ancestors and your family, you can eat your tia’s tamales, and dance and sing to the song that reminds you of home even if you know what two-thirds of the words mean.”

She continued, “You can be proud of your cultura and what that means to you. It doesn’t make you any less than.”

English or Spanish, language isn’t a barrier to Latinx family love

More than 100 people gathered at my great-grandmother’s gravesite for her burial.

Her sister rests on the hill next to her, overlooking a busy main street. Before the priest started the service, a funeral attendant began to distribute flowers in various colors for the casket.

Purple was my great-grandmother’s favorite color. It was her favorite color and I remember seeing it in many photos of her over the years.

I became overwhelmed with emotion and turned my head as the flowers were being given out. I knew that if they looked at me, I would cry. It was their final goodbye.

I tried to remember a good memory that I had with her, but my brain was not cooperating. As I tried to think of something, I felt selfish for feeling these feelings of grief for someone I rarely spoke to.

As I tried to keep my tears from gushing, the lump in my throat got larger. My head kept whispering to me to stop crying as my family members wept and sniffled. “You didn’t get to know her that well. It’s not your place to cry,” I kept saying that.

As I watched my younger cousins struggle to hold the pieces together, I held on to my mom’s hands. I wondered how our relationship with her would have looked if we had the chance to meet when I was older.

I thought she might have tried to connect with me and her great-grandchildren, who don’t know Spanish. While I can see the language barrier today with many aunts and uncles of mine, I remember that many of my relatives still love to see me and are willing to chat and connect as much as possible.

I was handed a purple flower by the attendant. It was a small gesture, although it seemed insignificant, that was nevertheless comforting. It was a simple reminder to love transcends language.

As if it were a sign from her, I took it as a message from her. “Don’t worry, we might not have understood each other, but I love you.”