As a young girl growing up in South Florida, I was surrounded by a beautiful mix of cultures: Cuban, Puerto Rican, Mexican, Korean, Indian, and so many others. I remember watching my friends’ parents speak little to no English, relying on their children to translate in everyday situations. Back then, I didn’t fully understand it, but I was always in awe. There was something powerful about those children moving so effortlessly between two worlds, carrying both responsibility and pride in their voices.
Now, decades later, I find myself in a similar position but on the other side. Living in southern Spain for nearly eight years, I have become that “immigrant parent”. Because my Spanish is still improving, there have been many moments when I’ve needed my children to help translate for me. And instead of feeling embarrassed, I see the beauty in it. It is a full-circle moment that humbles me and reminds me that growth often comes with vulnerability.
My journey with language didn’t start here. I was first introduced to Spanish in school in Miami, though it was more of a Latin American Spanish. Living in Spain has opened my ears and mind to Castilian Spanish, which carries its own rhythm, expressions, and identity. Over time, I’ve learned to embrace the differences rather than compare them. Each word I’ve learned, each conversation I’ve attempted, has been a step toward connection, not perfection.
Beyond Spanish, my life has given me glimpses into other languages and cultures as well. From learning bits of Turkish during our two years in Turkey to picking up simple phrases while visiting Germany, each experience has reinforced the same truth: language is more than words. It is respect. It is effort. It is love in action. When you learn even a little of someone else’s language, you are saying, “I see you. I value you.”
This April 23rd, Día del Idioma/Day of Languages, I reflect not on fluency, but on courage. The courage to try, to stumble, and to keep going.