QueQUE? Mean or Misunderstood?

52SlicesOfChingonaLife 52EssaysNextWave 6/52

When I drove by this certain school the other day, my thoughts immediately flew to the year that we went to Summer School there. Summer School with the Mexicano Migrant Students. Remember, in my house, we did not grow up speaking Spanish. The Spanish words we knew were the very basic ones: leche, pan, buenos dias, etc.

I’ve often wondered why my parents sent us to school with these kids. Looking back, they probably did it so that we could be immersed in our motherland tongue and perhaps learn how to understand and speak Spanish better. Today, I think my parents were so progressive and I totally admire their vision for us, they knew that this experience would help us and it has. Back then, however, it was another story.

So here we were, with kids who were merciless, teased us about being from “here” and not knowing Spanish, well me, anyway. I didn’t really know how these kids were with my siblings, I’m kind of glad I didn’t know or broncas would ensue. All I know is that, without a doubt, we were different for sure. “OMG you’ve NEVER been to Mexico?” More American than Mexican with these kids, and more Mexican than American than other kids in regular school. This is the classic experience we shared with kids like us all over the US.

We went on a lot of field trips and outings that summer. I remember one time we were either going to or coming back from swimming and I was on the bus with these “mean kids” on every side of me, poking at me, pinching me, pulling my hair, telling me that I didn’t know Spanish and what was I doing there with them? I was trying to ignore them and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I told one of the adults that they were bothering me and she told me to try to ignore them and to concentrate on the radio, we were almost “home”.

So I went back to my seat and did just that. I concentrated on the songs I was listening to on the radio and I started to tune the kids out. I was silently singing all of the songs that I was hearing and they kept on teasing me that I didn’t know Spanish. They were begging the teacher to change the radio station to Spanish radio. I will NEVER forget what happened next. Turns out, I also KNEW the songs that came on in Spanish! Homegirls could NOT believe it and I shut them down that day. Me being me, I gave them that look as if to say, “now whatta you gotta say? ‘ora que?” And my big mouth said, “at least I try to speak Spanish, you don’t even try to talk in English“.

That was the day that I was powerful, that day, I knew that I had something special that they did not: I was bilingual. Well somewhat anyway. They asked me how I knew the songs in Spanish and it all changed with them when I told them that my Dad had a band. That was the first time I had ever told anyone about the band and you better know that it wasn’t the last time LOL. It was respect after that, and they asked me to interpret for them with the teachers from time to time.

I was starting to find my voice, to find the confidence, to find the pride in being able to walk both sides of the fence, to relate to anyone from the motherland, to relate to anyone like me from here, to know that I had double of everything: friends, music, family, opportunities, culture. I was a little girl and, from that moment on, I stopped caring what anyone said to me or thought about me wanting to promote my culture. If you know me, you KNOW that absolutely nothing has changed, this part of me has always been front and center in both my personal and professional lives.

I’ve always had two types of friends: the ones who speak Spanish who can tease but no more bullying; and I have friends who are Mexicans, Latinos, and others from here. Both sides regularly “cap” on the other, ni modo. One of the first things you learn when you want to become an Interpreter is to study with someone who knows the other language better than you do, so I always studied with folks who speak Spanish better than me and made some awesome friends, you know who you are.

Looking back, I feel bad for those “mean kids” who were maybe misguided or misunderstood kids. It would have been easier for us had both sides had a little more compassion but we were very young. I hope that they were able to find their opportunities, voice, confidence and pride. I hope that this type of same-culture bullying no longer exists. I think it still does.

In case you want to know what songs I knew (we Torres5 know everything :), every time I hear these, I think of that bus ride. English Ones: Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers, Mr Big Stuff – Jean Knight, Knock Three Times, Tony Orlando Dawn. Spanish Ones: Libro Abierto – Gerardo Reyes, Rosa Maria – Los Moonlights, Donde Estas Yolanda – Sonora Santanera