The Spanish Language on “Defense!”

Why are so many Spanish speakers in the U.S. so defensive with those trying to learn to speak Spanish?

Melissa, a good friend of mine of Honduran, Central American ancestry got annoyed with me one evening when we stopped to get some refreshments on our way back from a salsa music event. The store clerk started speaking Spanish to his co-worker, and rather than my interrupting his flow, I joined in continuing to place my order in Spanish. Melissa, herself a fluent Spanish speaker,  expressed a distaste that reminded me of my childhood.

When I started learning Spanish on my own, at the age of 10; influenced by my Puerto Rican neighbors in a community near New York's Spanish Harlem, I noticed an inexplicable air of defensiveness among native Spanish speakers. They appeared highly territorial about their language seeming to have issues with non-native speakers, like myself, who sincerely want to learn. 

Perhaps, had I grown up near Miami's Little Havana where Cuban people are dead-in-your-face “proud” of the Spanish language, and where they seem to have a passionate preference for communicating in Spanish than English; even with non-native speakers, the progress I would have made in learning Spanish would have been much more rapid, fluid, and solid.

My final straw occurred when I approached a Spanish-speaking school mate, a fifth grader, in the playground and asked, ¿Hola, habla Español (hi, you speak Spanish)? He looked like he was ready to fight, and with a heavy New York accent, snapped back in plain English, what do YOU want to know for?

That harsh reaction burst my bubble prompting me to forget about learning Spanish and find other fun things to do with my childhood, and I certainly did! I felt like, geez, what is the use? All the Spanish-speakers I knew spoke very good English; perhaps, even better than their Spanish.

It was well into my adulthood motivated by my undying love for salsa and Afro-Cuban music coupled with the flooding of monolingual Spanish-speaking immigrants into this country when my desire to learn to speak Spanish resurfaced with an irresistable vengeance. 

This time, I avoided bilingual English/Spanish speakers making much greater progress among those who speak Spanish only. As a result of my efforts, I eventually landed jobs where the ability to speak Spanish was a plus. In one position, I even received bilingual pay.

It finally dawned on me that if I really wanted to develop my Spanish, I needed to travel to countries where only Spanish is spoken. To date, I've visited nine (9) countries socializing, and reaching out to black communities whenever possible. I even went out on dates, got invited to parties, got stopped and hassled by the police. And no one, and I mean absolutely no one, was able to speak a word of English. Thus, my Spanish inadvertently improved.

Finally, the time came when I got a taste of my own medicine with the Spanish language. I realized from my travels how a lot of Spanish-speakers in the US feel when I, as a native English speaker, approach them in Spanish, especially total strangers.

In Havana, Cuba, I was riding my bicycle with a group of Americans who were attending the University of Havana for Spanish-language intensive training. An Afro-Cuban gentleman rode up beside me and struck up a conversation in English. I thought to myself; damn, this fool thinks I'm one of those gringos who can't speak Spanish. I'm going to teach his young ass a lesson. For everything he said to me in English, I responded in Spanish like Spanish speakers in the U.S. have always done to me.

Finally, the gentleman snapped at me in frustration, “STOP ANSWERING ME IN SPANISH, I'M TRYING TO PRACTICE MY ENGLISH! From that point on, I felt compassion because this is exactly what I was trying to do when I spoke Spanish to Latinos in the U.S., practice my Spanish.

A lighter incident happened in Lima, Perú when in a restaurant, a gentleman struck up a conversation with me in English, and instinctively, I answered him in Spanish. He politely asked me if it is OK that he practices his English with me. Once again, my heartfelt compassion kicked in and I complied even though my primary reason for being in Perú and other Latin-American countries was to develop my Spanish-speaking skills.

I wish more Spanish speakers in the U.S. were as compassionate towards non-native speakers trying to learn their language as I was with those trying to learn mine. This is how communities build bridges—crossing cultures. I know enough Russian, French, Portuguese, and several other languages to meet and greet, and people who speak those languages graciously applaud my efforts. What is the big hangup among so many U.S. Spanish speakers?

Determining One's Ethnicity

 

 A statue of Pedro (Primero Negro) Camejo, a high-ranking officer in Simón Bolívar's army in Venezuela's liberation from Spain.
 
Today, I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. The customer in front of me, an olive-skinned woman, ordered in Spanish and the cashier responded likewise. When my turn came, I ordered in Spanish and the cashier responded in broken Spanish and English. After responding this way for the third time, I pointed to my Caracas, Venezuela baseball jersey I was wearing and told her in Spanish that in Caracas people speak Spanish as well. Suddenly, thinking that I'm from Venezuela, her Spanish became fluent.


No, I am not from Venezuela, and I never told her that I am from Venezuela. I bought that baseball jersey when I was visiting Caracas, and simply stated that Venezuelan people speak Spanish as well, not just Mexicans—that was the point that I was trying to make. I wanted to teach little miss smarty pants a lesson that you cannot “LOOK” at people and determine their ethnicity.  

Yes, I'm African American, but as far as she, a total stranger is concerned, I could have been an Afro-Spaniard, Afro-Nicaraguan, or even an Afro-Mexican. An Afro-Colombian recently wrote on my blog stating how frustrating it is that in Miami, of all places with a large Afro-Latino population, people still assume that because he is black that he cannot speak Spanish.

The same thing applies to my fellow African Americans. One evening in Richmond, Calfornia, I gave an African-American woman, whom I met for the first time, a ride in my car. She noticed my New York accent and asked me if I am African. Confused, I answered no. She then asked me if I am a “regular black”. Now, what is a “regular” black, considering there are black people all over the world?

  A few African Americans who hear me speak Spanish would look directly at me and ask me if I am black. Of course, I am, what else could I be? Still, others ask me to confirm that I'm African American and not a member of another black ethnic group. Now, that I take as a compliment because it speaks to my global mindset.

Practicing My Spanish in Mexican Restaurants

It's been two or three years since I started frequenting Octavio's Mexican restaurant near my house in Oakland, California. Octavio and I have never spoken English since we've met—Spanish only. I know that his English is fluent because I hear him interacting with other customers. 

Most Latin-American people I meet who are fluent in both English and Spanish appear to have some serious hangups about speaking Spanish to people who are black, white, or others who do not fit the stereotypical appearance of a Spanish speaker. There were times in other Mexican restaurants, I would ask, in Spanish, the permission to order in Spanish because I've seen some Spanish-speaking servers get really bent out of shape because I didn't address them in English. I always leave bigger tips to those who engage me in Spanish.

Now that I think about it, I too have my hangups when I'm in a Spanish-speaking country where I am quick to respond in Spanish to people who speak to me in English. I do this to send a message that I am not one of those gringos who can't speak Spanish. Another reason is that I need the practice, which is the primary reason, among others, that I travel to Spanish-speaking countries. Yet, there have been occasions when Spanish-speakers would ask my permission to converse in English, and I would comply out of empathy and understanding.

However, it's been a while since I traveled through Latin-America, and I'm no longer working at the agency where I was speaking to Spanish-speaking clients on a daily basis, or even occasionally serving as an interpreter. Thus, my Spanish has begun to falter, big time.

There was one point in Octavio's restaurant when I felt stuck in my English to Spanish translation, and tried speaking to him in English; Octavio ignored my English and continued speaking Spanish. That's when I realized that he knows that I am not as fluent in Spanish as I would like, and is only trying to help me out. Kudos to Octavio. He even speaks Spanish to me in front of his African-American customers.

Recently, I enrolled in an advanced class at Centro Latino in Berkeley, California. The classroom is fine, but the best thing next to traveling to a Spanish-speaking country and being totally immersed in the language is to have a support system of native speakers, like Octavio. However, the more in my Spanish-speaking support system, the merrier.

Exposure to Ghetto Street Spanish

 
I was in a job interview for an employment counselor position where the clientele would include some monolingual Spanish speaking immigrants. When the subject of my Spanish came up, I explained to the interview panel that my Spanish was influenced by a large Puerto Rican population in New York City where I grew up. People as far away as Perú and Ecuador where I traveled thought that I myself might be Puerto Rican (or Cuban).

One of the panel members who is not even Latino immediately began frowning, and asked is this street Spanish? Although, I thought that it was very prejudicial for this panelist to assume that all Puerto Ricans speak street Spanish, all of the panelists were very understanding when I explained that Puerto Ricans speak Spanish with a Caribbean accent just as Jamaicans speak English with a Caribbean accent. However, a woman directly from the island of Puerto Rico told me that I sound more like a New-Yorican (a New York Puerto Rican).

Naturally, Spain gets all the glory for speaking the highest form of the Spanish language. While Spaniards have been known to to look down on Latin Americans and their version of Spanish, Latin American people have been known to look down on the Spanish that has more African influence, such as that of the Cubans, the Puerto Ricans, and the Dominicans. This point is clearly expounded upon in an article entitled Do Puerto Ricans Speak The “Ghetto Version” of Spanish?

A Latina acquaintance spoke of a time when she was being interviewed for Spanish tutor position. Once the Argentinian hiring manager heard Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico as the source of her Spanish, she knew that she did not get the job, and needless to say, she never got a callback.

Many overlook the fact that language is a fluid, human creation that changes and evolves over time. The Spanish spoken in Spain has its own diversity depending on the region of the country. There is Castellano, Gallego, Galician, Asturian, Vascos, Catalán, and other dialects. Thus, Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America have their own dialects as well.  

During my interactions with Latino-American people in the US and in my travels, I came to realize that every country has its own ghetto street talk as well as formal. When I was in Cuba, I heard the Spanish of common, everyday people as they spoke in super-rapid fashion, but when I was on campus at the University of Havana, the Spanish spoken among students, staff, and faculty was formal and clearly understood. 

People, including some blacks, on campus, frowned and turned their heads in embarrassment when they heard me using some slang that I learned from a cab driver. I thought I was impressing them with my knowledge of local ghetto speak, but in Cuba, like any other Latin-American country, speaking formally or speaking the dialect of the barrio (the hood) is an indication of your level of class.

As much as I enjoy using the every day Spanish of the common people in the countries that I visit, I learned to discern the difference between formal and street talk and when to use them. Just as I would not use street talk in a formal environment in the U.S., like a job interview, the same applies to a formal environment in Latin America.

Why I Avoid English Speakers in Latin America

 

 When traveling , I drift toward the barrios where you 

find the real culture, such as in Juncal, Ecuador

Fortunately in my Latin American travels, I run into very few people who speak English. I'm sure they are out there, especially among some college students, some of the upper class, and some of those in the tourist industry; all of whom I make a special effort to avoid. I'm much more attracted to the barrios (the hood) where I can be among the everyday common people; that way I remain totally immersed in the Spanish language, which forces me to improve my own Spanish and get a better sense of the cultures.

Reflecting on my last blog post, It's Nice Meeting “Proud” Spanish Speakers,” I vividly recall times in Latin-American countries where I responded in Spanish to anyone who spoke to me in English in the same way so many US Latinos respond to me in English when I try to speak to them in Spanish.

Felix of Caracas, Venezuela took me in like family

One summer, in Havana, Cuba, I was  with a group of 25 Americans who were there for Spanish language intensive training at the University of Havana, sponsored by Global Exchange, Inc., based in San Francisco, CA. Upon our arrival, we were loaned bicycles for a guided tour of the city. 

As we rode along Havana's popular Malecón (the waterfront), an Afro-Cuban gentleman rode up along side me and struck up a conversation in English. I felt insulted because I thought that he was assuming that I was just another gringo who can't speak Spanish. I decided to show him differently by responding to everything he says to me in Spanish. After several of those exchanges, he finally snapped in frustration, “MAN, STOP SPEAKING SPANISH; I'M TRYING TO PRACTICE ME ENGLISH!” 

 Dancing salsa with D. Fuentes in Havana, Cuba

At that point, my feelings of insult turned into compassion because I remember so vividly how crushed I used to feel in the US trying to practice my Spanish with native Spanish-speakers who insisted on responding to me in English. Therefore, I gave him a break.

In Caracas, Venezuela, I was hosted by Felix, a friend I met on www.couchsurfing.com, a web site for travelers. Felix showed me the city, then took me into his home in the barrio with his family and fiancé where I dined and slept. The only drawback was that Felix and his fiance's English were better than my Spanish, so there was no way I could resist. My only alternative in using my Spanish was with his family members who speak no English. The next day, Felix turned me over to another friend whom I also met on couchsurfing.com, María.

While in Cartagena, Colombia, I purchased the 
South American version of Ebony Magazine

María, who also went the extra mile to ensure that my stay in Venezuela was a rewarding one as she escorted me on a two-hour bus ride into Venezuela's region of Barlovento to explore Afro-Venezuelan culture. María speaks Spanish, Swiss, and English. However in this instance, my Spanish was better than her English, but out of appreciation for her hospitality, I permitted her to practice her English on me until she got stuck in translation, then I would intervene in Spanish. 

If I were to move to a Latin-American country as an expat, I would not have the attitude that I demonstrated with the Cuban bicyclist. I would be willing to speak English with anyone who is learning it or already proficient.  

 

María escorted me into the black (and brown) 
region of Barlovento, Venezuela 

However, all of my travels have occurred during my vacations from work lasting two to three weeks. Thus, giving me limited time to take advantage of every precious moment of being totally immersed in the Spanish language with no opportunity to fall back on my English when I get stuck in translation. In such cases, I have no other choice but to face the challenge head on and work through it. 

I was in a restaurant in the Barranco district of Lima, Perú, where I was so disgusted with the customer service that I demanded to speak with a manager. My irritation almost made me forget all the Spanish I learned up to that point, and I was disappointed when the manager told me that he didn't speak English. I then felt compelled to register my complaint in Spanish. It is cases like this where the “real” learning takes place—not in the classroom—and believe me, I'm still learning!

It's Nice Meeting “Proud” Spanish Speakers

Here in the US, I reached a point a long time ago where I generally feel uncomfortable speaking Spanish to native speakers who are also fluent in English. So many seem to have a complex about speaking Spanish to someone who is not stereotypically profiled as “Latin-American.” 

Today at my local grocery store, I experienced a surprising, positive reaction from a Spanish-speaking cashier. I noticed her conversing in Spanish with another store employee bagging the groceries. As I stepped up to check out and not wanting to interrupt her Spanish flow, I immediately greeted her with buenas, an abbreviated expression for good morning, good afternoon, or good evening.

I was pleasantly surprised by the way she responded to me as though I too were a native Spanish speaker. We then exchanged parting words, ¡que te vaya bien (have a good one)!, ¡igual (you too)!, common in the Latin-American community. I felt proud of her, and of course, pleased at the opportunity to use my own Spanish. 

Any time that I'm in a Latin-American restaurant, I tip better when staff members interact with me in Spanish. At work, there are colleagues from various Latin American countries who generally communicate with me in Spanish and are always open to giving me advice and answering my questions concerning proper grammar. Unlike so many bilingual people I meet, these gentlemen greatly appreciate my efforts to improve my Spanish.

In my quest to develop Spanish fluency, I get my best opportunities vacationing in Latin-American countries. Here in the US, I reached a point a long time ago where I generally feel uncomfortable speaking Spanish to native speakers who are also fluent in English. So many seem to have a complex about speaking Spanish to someone who is not stereotypically profiled as “Latin-American.” They forget that real Latinos come in all colors and are members of varying ethnic groups, not just Spanish, Mestizo, and Indigenous.

I had a good laugh one evening in San Francisco when a friend from India and I were walking to a local restaurant to get a snack. A mono-lingual Spanish-speaker got right in her face (not mine) asking if she speaks Spanish because he needed directions. You should have seen the look on his face when it turned out to be I who gave him the directions he needed. My Indian friend does not speak Spanish.

In New York City, a few days after my arrival from Caracas, Venezuela. I was walking from my cousin's house to the subway station, and passed by a housing project where a Latino gentleman was vehemently explaining something in Spanish to a couple of friends. He suddenly stopped and looked at me with fear in his eyes, seemly hoping that I was not a robber. After all, this was in the notorious South Bronx—at night. 

Again, not wanting to interrupt a Spanish-speaking flow, I said con permiso (excuse me) as I walked by. In eloquent English, he responded with “certainly!” Now, in a city with a relatively large Afro-Latino population, you would think that he is accustomed to seeing blacks who can speak Spanish. Why did he respond in me English?

I once read a blog post by a Mexican-American woman in Arizona who was deeply disturbed about receiving information from a business that was written in Spanish. She states that she understands Spanish very well, but would have preferred English. What's the matter, does she think her Spanish makes her less of an American? If so, she is fooling herself. Spanish was spoken in what we know today as the United States before the United States was born. Appalled by her self-snobbery, I posted the following comment on her blog:

“Here I am knocking myself out daily trying to develop fluency in Spanish, and am always amazed at people who are blessed with the knowledge of both Spanish and English who appear to be so ashamed of it as though it is some sort of a curse.”

The woman never responded. I hoped that she would have because I'm always open to seeing opposing views. Who knows, I may learn something.

There is, however, one city in the US where the Spanish speakers are in-your-face proud—Miami. The Cuban people who populate  the area love their language and culture. I entered a Cuban restaurant and the manager greeted me in English with a thick Cuban accent. When I ordered in Spanish, he and his staff happily made me feel very welcome. Even the customers who overheard me were pleased. 

I've always considered Miami to be an honorary Latin American city where no one feels a need to get cute and answer you in English. Miami Cubans don't care who you are; they are always ready to roll in their native tongue.

Your Spanish—Either Use it or Lose it!

 Jorge Medina, Bolivia's first black elected official.

One day, my supervisor, Kim, called me into her office for one of our weekly meetings. Towards the end, she asked me a favor which shocked the bejesus out of me. Kim wanted me to help her with her Spanish. I had been working with Kim for about two years, and learned that she minored in Spanish in college, and over all, had at least eight years of it in school. I myself am self-taught out of a book, studying it in my spare time. Sure, I too had some classes in school, but the classroom, like anything in life, is no match for the real world. The major difference between the progress Kim made in school, and the progress I made on my own was that I seized every opportunity, big and small, to mix with monolingual Spanish speakers.

One day, I overheard Kim trying to speak Spanish as she was ordering food from a nearby El Salvadorean restaurant over the phone. However, once Kim decides to immerse herself in the language, she would do a lot better than I ever will do. All that knowledge she gained over the years will resurface from her subconscious, and before she knows it, she will be as fluent as ever. Of course, this applies to any foreign language. I’ve met many who had several years of foreign language in school, but cannot speak it without constantly stumbling because they’ve never been immersed.

Havana, *Cuba was my first language immersion experience in a Spanish-speaking country, other than Mexico where I had to pass through and spend the night before catching my flight to Havana. I was in a situation where I could not fall back on my English if I got stuck for translation, and was pleasantly surprised at how my Spanish flowed so effortlessly as I made it my business to socialize in the community. I even went out on dates, and I particularly had fun playing with the minds of Havana city slickers who seemed to have felt that just because I’m an American that I must be a black relative of Bill Gates or Donald Trump.LOL. I'm sure that my former supervisor, Kim, can do a lot better because her studies were much more in depth.

I worked at another job four years where I used my Spanish almost daily because so many of our clients were recent immigrants from various Latin American countries, and speak little or no English. This was all in addition to my annual vacations to seven other Spanish speaking countries where I was totally immersed, and couldn't fall back on my English even if I wanted to. It's been two years since I've worked this position due to company restructuring, and I can feel my Spanish faltering considerably because I haven't been using it much as a result of that departure. I'm overdue for another Latin-American vacation.

*For those who want to know, I went to Havana through Global Exchange, Inc. which had a license to send people to Cuba for cultural and educational purposes.