“The Language of Survival: Rodriguez, Memory, and Multilingual Mourning”

In Aria, Richard Rodriguez reflects on the experience of growing up in a bilingual household, navigating the complex terrain between his Spanish-speaking family and the demands of an English-dominant public life. His reflections provide insight into the struggles that many marginalized communities face when it comes to language, identity, and assimilation in American society.

Rodriguez poignantly writes, "Without question, it would have pleased me to hear my teachers address me in Spanish when I entered the classroom. I would have felt much less afraid. I would have trusted them and responded with ease" (Rodriguez, 2022, p. 34). This statement emphasizes the alienation that language can create in a space where inclusion lacks. Imagine being in a space for most of your day, lost and unable to understand the world around you. Or to be amongst a culture that is so foreign to all that you are accustomed to. The anxiety… the distress… the immediate need for escape! Nothing is familiar, comforting, or embracing of the identity and being that one may hold so dear to their heart.

For Rodriguez, the act of learning English in school was less about communication and more about carving a new identity, one that distanced him from his familial and cultural roots. He also explored the emotional cost of this assimilation, noting, "Most of all I needed to hear my mother and father speak to me in a moment of seriousness in broken suddenly heartbreaking English" (p. 35). This moment captures how painful it was to witness his parents, once fluent and expressive in Spanish, reduced to uncertain, fractured voices in English, a language that had become the barrier between their intimacy and his public self.

How many times have you heard someone say, “Learn to speak English!” or “You are in America! Learn the language!” How ignorant can it be to think that a country built and run by the diversity and beauty of many foreigners, cultures, languages, and perspectives would demand uniformity? These differences are what make us worthwhile. Being of foreign descent myself, this truly spoke volumes to me, remembering times when I was ashamed of my accent while being in this country, stigmatized as though I was behind or less than those that surrounded me. In fact, because of the Caribbean culture that I came from, I was light years ahead of most of the children in my class in academics, maturity, and spirit. I remember trying to practice my pronunciation, trying to sound more “Brooklyn” than I did a “yardie.” The days I’d rush home, feeling such peace and ease as I allowed my tongue to flow in the melody of my Vincy twang. I grew up believing that I was speaking proper language, understood by all those that loved and accepted me. The trauma of transitioning to a place where I am constantly asked to “speak English” or “if my back was still wet from the boat ride.” If I only had the awareness and understanding that I do now, back then… I would have been unashamed and unstoppable.

Rodriguez’s internal conflict is made even clearer when he says, "Only then did I determine to learn classroom English. Weeks after, it happened: One day in school I raised my hand to volunteer an answer. I spoke out in a loud voice. And I did not think it remarkable when the entire class understood" (p. 36). This quote illustrates the societal pressure to separate one’s public identity from one’s private, familial culture. In a sense, Rodriguez was taught that his family, his heritage, and his language were not conducive to success in the public sphere. As a foreigner, this is such a gut punch, encouraged to feel as though the families that we are blessed with, rooted in hard work, resilience, creativity, productivity, and determination, are somehow inferior or in need of “fixing” just because we do not fit into the limited box of American society.

Additionally, Rodriguez reflects on the growing silence between himself and his parents: "My mother and father, for their part, responded differently, as their children spoke to them less. She grew restless, seemed troubled and anxious at the scarcity of words exchanged in the house. By contrast, my father seemed reconciled to the new quiet" (p. 38). He notes the contrast further by stating, "But my father was not shy, I realized, when I’d watch him speaking Spanish with relatives" (p. 38). This reveals the divide that language created between generations and between private and public identity, a silence not just of words, but of understanding. The life and vibrancy of their home and family dynamic was slowly stripped away from them in the name of an American “dream”. As Rodriguez became more familiarized with the American way, he grew more distant and unfamiliar to his Hispanic heritage.

Rodriguez sums up his feelings of cultural loss by stating, "Matching the silence I started hearing in public was a new quiet at home" (p. 38). His acknowledgment of the tension between assimilation and cultural loss speaks to the broader question of whether true integration is possible without sacrificing one's cultural identity. The silence was not only literal but symbolic, a loss of intimacy, closeness, and connection with his family and roots.

His experience challenges the notion that assimilation always leads to greater opportunity, urging us to consider the cost of abandoning cultural roots in the name of fitting in. I can speak to such feelings, always vowing to never forget or lose where I came from. My Caribbean roots and values will always stand true to my identity. They have shaped me into much of the success that I am today. The pride that I have in my culture, along with my desire to have others see the wonder of what it means to be Vincentian, has influenced me to leave my accent just as it is, using it in spaces where it may not always be readily accepted or palatable. Coming to work with my breadfruit, ackee, saltfish, ground provisions and boiled plantains for lunch after enjoying a warm bowl of plantain porridge and seamoss in the morning. Sitting at a table filled with coffee, donuts, hotcakes with syrup, eggs, and bacon, hearing the “What is that?” as I open my containers, filled with Caribbean staples. I live in America. I work in America. I am entertained by America. But I am a Vincentian and very proud to be one in this country.

These reflections also resonate with the themes explored by Shalaby in Troublemakers, where she discusses how marginalized students are often labeled as “troublemakers” for resisting the dominant cultural expectations of the educational system. Both Rodriguez and Shalaby highlight how the dominant society often seeks to erase or suppress the cultural identities of marginalized individuals in order to create a more uniform and manageable population. Rodriguez’s own struggle with language and identity is an example of the personal toll that these societal expectations can take.

This narrative invites us to consider the role that language plays in shaping not just identity, but opportunity. As Troublemakers by Shalaby suggests, educational systems often fail to recognize the complexities of students' backgrounds, which can lead to the marginalization of those who do not conform to mainstream cultural norms. This is particularly evident in Rodriguez’s experience of being forced to abandon his Spanish language in order to succeed in a system that valued English above all else. His struggle underscores the need for educational systems that recognize and value linguistic diversity, rather than penalizing students for it.

Rodriguez’s story also ties into broader discussions about the role of language in social mobility. As he navigates the challenges of language, identity, and cultural assimilation, he highlights the profound impact these struggles have on individuals' sense of self and their ability to succeed in a society that often demands conformity. His story is a reminder that the price of assimilation is not just cultural erasure, but a deep emotional and psychological cost that is often overlooked. To conform to the culture, forgetting all that grounds and centers one in being, can seem like a death to self, uprooting unnecessary emotions of grief, confusion, and hopelessness that can be crippling to the well-being and success of those most special and deserving.

Richard Rodriguez challenges us to think about the price of assimilation and the silencing of heritage. If you’re an educator, community leader, or simply someone navigating two worlds, ask yourself:

• What have I asked others (or myself) to give up to “fit in”?
• Do I mistake silence for success in my students, children, or peers?
• How can I make public spaces more honoring of private identities?

Resist the impulse to correct what is unfamiliar. Celebrate bilingualism as brilliance. Let your story, and the stories of those around you, be spoken without shame.

Please explore the captivating artwork of LaToya Ruby Frazier, photography that documents the intersection of race, class and identity, capturing the struggles of marginalized communities in the face of systemic forces: LaToya Ruby Frazier's Photography
Additionally, enjoy George Chidi’s TED Talk: The Power of Language and Cultural  Identity, highlighting the power of language in shaping identities, along with the immense societal pressures to conform: TED Talk: The Power of Language and Cultural Identity