Being Bicultural in the U.S. – Can Be Hard

 Growing up in Lima, Peru, knowing English, thanks to my parents and bilingual education, was not seen as detrimental. This was not at all the case when we moved to Denton, Texas.  My mother took a position at North Texas State University, now renamed The University of North Texas, Dr. Phil McGraw’s alma mater.

I was close to finished with high school; my sisters were enrolled in elementary and middle school. In Texas, they were so thoroughly discriminated against for speaking Spanish, that they stopped speaking it altogether.

What a shock that was for me.

Spanish was our common language!

I did not adapt well to high school; therefore I took the S.A.T. and was accepted into North Texas State University on early admission. What a relief. 

I went back to Lima that year to participate in Carmelitas’ graduation ceremonies. I had been so miserable in the States that my mother feared I would stay in Lima. I did come back, but with one of my best friends in tow. MariTere’s father had gone to Texas Tech, and wanted to give his daughter the same educational opportunity.

MariTere spent a year with me in Denton, then transferred up to Lubbock. Her year with me helped me to transition into life in the United States.

So, what happened? Why can I live in the two languages equally, whereas my friends here, whose experience is the mirror image of mine – Spanish-speaking parents, schooling in U.S. English – usually don’t have the same ease with the language?

It’s not that I am unique – far from it! There are lots of children of immigrants here.

Dr. Otto Santa Ana, professor at UCLA (currently at UDC as his wife serves as Assisant Secretary of Education) put it for me succintly: The dominant language in the United States is English. No other language is accorded the same respect. The dominant language of my childhood was Spanish, but English was not neglected.

In spite of its prevalence, Spanish is not celebrated here. The United States has the fifth largest Spanish-speaking population in the world, yet Spanish speakers are not supported, rather they are discriminated against and even vilified.

It doesn’t have to be this way. There are renowned academics at most universities in the U.S. who can easily move Spanish-speaking children of immigrants into the realm of Cervantes. I know. They did it for me. 

About Me

I’m told... I am the typical daughter of immigrants...

The year was 1984: Georgetown University, Washington, D.C. I was working full-time in the Office of the Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs. 

A co-worker, the formidable Melvin Bell, Chief Financial Officer, would take long walks around campus to clear his head of all the number crunching. One day, he stopped me in front of the newly built InterCultural Center, and grabbed a hold of famous linguist Dr. Deborah Tannen, on her way into the building.  

“Dr. Tannen!” he exclaimed. “Can you explain Maribeth to me? She switches between English and Spanish with no effort. How does she do it?”  

Dr. Tannen considered me briefly, then pronounced: “She’s the typical daughter of immigrants.” 

I have Nixon to thank...

Flash back to 1973: Nixon is re-elected and my father can’t take him for four more years. He and my mother, recent graduate of NYU with an M.A. in Linguistics, pack up their three young daughters to go live and work in Lima, Peru. They take positions at the Centro de Idiomas, Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú (Camaná) and enroll us in Nuestra Señora del Carmen, also known as Carmelitas, a bilingual elementary and secondary school. 

Within a year, my sisters and I are speaking, reading and writing Spanish and are now culturally and linguistically Peruvian. 

We speak Spanish all day but keep up our English at home (“Mommy, can you please firmar my libreta?).  As children, we fuse seamlessly into our social milieu, instinctively incorporating cultural and linguistic cues that elude our parents, learning the language and culture as adults. 

My youngest sister is cast in a Nescafé commercial with an elderly Grandfather figure – no question she represents the ideal Peruvian child. 

‘Gringa’...

My elementary school friends call me ‘Gringa’ – not an insult in Perú – a term of endearment reserved for foreigners and blonds.  As I grow older, people not close to me as a child don’t understand why I have that nickname. I’m dark brunette, clearly not Gringa.

Clearly not... I married a Zapotec Oaxacan, I prefer ceviche (NO tomatoes or avocados, please!) , I put hot mustard on my french fries because I can’t get salsa de ají at McDonald’s and I drink Inca Kola when I’m feeling nostalgic.  I speak English en casa, Spanish to kids and cats and Spanglish with but a privileged few.  

I am bilingual, bicultural and yes, the daughter of immigrants.