Identity Narrative

What is the purpose of knowing another language if your sustenance remains here within the states? As an American, I know this country is made up of immigrants from all around the world coming from different cultures and backgrounds. I would soon learn about these differences, and about my own social inheritance.

My co-workers and I were diligently working on a Friday morning, as we were preparing for the lunch rush to begin. As a Hispanic couple comes strolling in, they come up to my window and begin to speak to me in Spanish. As less awkward as I can, I let the couple know I don’t speak Spanish and refer them to the next window where Jessica, my co-worker, is able to further assist them. So as Jessica invites the couple over, my face turns beet red, and the couple begins to converse in Spanish amongst themselves.

At this point, I felt a social expectation that I was required to know Spanish because my skin color was brown. The feeling was a little bothering. It is certain instances like these that leave me despondent and have me questioning my own identity as an individual.

What I have come to realize though, is that it is not required to speak a second language. In fact, it is not even required to speak a first. Some people are born mute, where they learn to communicate through sign language. We have learned to adapt to these changes with systems like braille. The touch stimuli that allows the blind to run their fingertips over raised bumps to easily identify words and letters. It is systems like these that give us hope. That influence us to live our lives the way we would like, knowing we will still be accepted.
It was the summer immediately following graduation, when I got a job working out on the orchards, the sun constantly beating down my neck, I worked long days for little pay. But what made it enjoyable was the people I got to share those experiences with. My girlfriends’ father hired me to be in charge of a crew of about twelve workers. What I didn’t know at the time, was that these twelve men were going to change my opinion, and overall outlook on racism for the rest of my life.

I still remember the first day of work very vividly. The expressions on some of the workers’ faces as I tried to speak to them in English, knowing they only spoke Spanish. Fortunately for me, there was a lady working with us whose job was primarily to check the buckets of the workers. She was able to speak both English and Spanish, so she acted as the translator for what the workers couldn’t understand.

It was amazing the effort the workers put into still trying to communicate and get to know me. But what really blew me away, is the fact that they still accepted me for who I was, when they could have easily just went about their business and kept the interactions with me to a minimum. We all would joke around and laugh with the Spanish that I did know, and they taught me lots of words to say, with most of them being appropriate

These experiences have taught me the fundamentals of not judging a book by its cover. That there is more to a person then what the eye can see, or ear can hear or nose can smell. It has taught me that just because someone comes from a different social group, it does not mean that their story deserves to be put down. Everyone has a unique story to tell, don’t be afraid to share it with the world.