Human beings are praised for being literate in multiple languages, it is a rewarding privilege. The United States is the only country in the world in which people are shamed for their capabilities; no other language is accepted other than english as it is believed that it’s the official language. Ignorance can interfere with the fact that there are 311 languages spoken in my country yet only one is respected. Out of the 311 languages, I fluently speak 2. Spanish is the native tongue of my family, it was the first language I learned to verbally communicate in. In 2004, as pre-school neared around the corner, my mother—who only spoke spanish—decided to teach me english. Every night she would read to me the only Dr.Seuss book I had, her english
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The first 6 years of my life I attended a school that was primarily full of monolingual white students, I noticed that their english wasn't broken like mine. I found myself to choke on my own words and felt like I had isolated myself because my english vocabulary was limited. Every night, before our ritual of Hop on Pop I would beg for my mother not to read and instead allow me to read. I was ashamed of her accent. I couldn't stand her I's sounding like E's or her forgetting to pronounce the H sound, I was so embarrassed. Within weeks I found myself reading to my class in english and completely abandoning my spanish speaking abilities. I wanted every fiber and cell in my body to erase every hispanic element of me. I was ashamed of having tan skin and being more knowledgeable of a language no one at my school spoke. At home, I never spoke spanish to my parents and forced them to learn english. In public I was humiliated by my mother’s thick accent, the accent that annoyingly rang in my ears. Her accent is distinctive, it’s as prominent as her huichol features. For more than half of my life I was more than sure that being bilingual was a
The first 6 years of my life I attended a school that was primarily full of monolingual white students, I noticed that their english wasn't broken like mine. I found myself to choke on my own words and felt like I had isolated myself because my english vocabulary was limited. Every night, before our ritual of Hop on Pop I would beg for my mother not to read and instead allow me to read. I was ashamed of her accent. I couldn't stand her I's sounding like E's or her forgetting to pronounce the H sound, I was so embarrassed. Within weeks I found myself reading to my class in english and completely abandoning my spanish speaking abilities. I wanted every fiber and cell in my body to erase every hispanic element of me. I was ashamed of having tan skin and being more knowledgeable of a language no one at my school spoke. At home, I never spoke spanish to my parents and forced them to learn english. In public I was humiliated by my mother’s thick accent, the accent that annoyingly rang in my ears. Her accent is distinctive, it’s as prominent as her huichol features. For more than half of my life I was more than sure that being bilingual was a