Speaking Spanish, in any capacity, is essential to the existence of Hispanic identity. Connecting with one’s cultural roots begins by adopting the practices of said group. In this case, it constitutes much more than just eating tacos and listening to Bad Bunny—although these are always welcome. Learning the language connects people to their culture on a deeper level. Many people argue that their Hispanic identity has nothing to do with their ability to speak Spanish. This notion never ceased to elude me. The term “Hispanic” refers to individuals from Spanish-speaking countries, so why would it be possible to isolate language from identity when they go hand-in-hand? 

Hispanic identity is more than just a person’s nationality or the blood that courses through their veins. For the most part, “Hispanidad” is learned only through engaging in the practices pertinent to the community and which, at its core, is sustained by the Spanish language. It’s the reason that, upon arriving at Emerson, I yearned to hear the familiar intonation of my mother tongue.   

Born and raised in Bolivia—the heart of Latin America—the Spanish language was something inherent to my identity but not something I ever had to consciously learn. For me, speaking Spanish didn’t have anything to do with the concept of being Hispanic, it was merely my mother tongue. However, once I moved to the United States for college this year, I realized just how vital speaking Spanish is to my Hispanic identity and how I can’t picture a world where these two notions are separate.

I used to roam the halls of Emerson hoping to hear a Hispanic sounding name, or perhaps even some Spanish words. Some of the first connections I made when I first arrived were the dining hall workers whom I would always speak Spanish to because conversation with them seemed like my only opportunity to practice my culture outside of my own country. And thankfully, because we all spoke Spanish, I was able to bond with them. 

For some reason, meeting Hispanic students who speak Spanish was challenging. Considering the vibrant and growing community of Latinos here in Boston, I expected to find a sense of belonging. However, outside of El Jefe’s Taqueria and the Emerson dining halls, I found nothing. I felt lost, almost homeless to an extent. I had gone from being surrounded by my heritage all day to just speaking Spanish perhaps once a day. It became exhausting to constantly be surrounded by English, to the point that I would only listen to Spanish music to convince myself that I wasn’t losing a part of my identity, even as I felt it slip away from me every day. That is why, when I finally met another Hispanic student, I nearly cried. That was until they confessed they didn’t know a lick of Spanish or cared to learn followed by a proclamation of how they are “Hispanic enough” as is.    

I became frustrated. I couldn’t understand how someone who doesn’t speak the language of their own culture could ever be a true part of it. The same one they flaunt to others in public but make no effort to understand. To be in the process of learning Spanish and not being comfortable speaking it yet is one thing, but it’s a whole other to not try at all. Surrendering to laziness and using the argument that not speaking Spanish doesn’t make you any less Hispanic as a shield is cowardly. The harsh truth is that not speaking Spanish does disconnect non-speakers from their Hispanic identity, and it should matter.

“If someone comes from a Latino or Hispanic background and doesn’t speak the language, they should at least make an effort to learn it,” said Dana Albala, a junior journalism major and president of Amigos at Emerson. 

In reality, this is all any Spanish-speaker can ask for. 

No one is asking for perfection; even Spanglish would be welcome. There is a stark difference between someone who struggles with the language but tries regardless and someone who’s indifferent. Of course, no one is pressuring non-Spanish-speaking Hispanics to learn this complex language overnight. However, speaking Spanish is still a principal channel for forming a unified community. 

“[Spanish] creates a stronger connection to [our] culture, roots, and family history,” Albala concluded.

Jaeel Beato, a junior journalism major and president of Emerson’s National Association of Hispanic Journalists Chapter, broadened this perspective. Having grown up in the U.S., he sketched his experiences interacting with his Hispanic identity and how, in a way, Spanish helped him forge connections not only with other speakers, but also with himself.  

“Anytime I speak Spanish, I just feel more connected to myself,” Beato said.  

By neglecting to learn Spanish, Hispanic individuals unknowingly alienate themselves from the true vibrancy of this community. Those who don’t bask in the beauty of speaking this language will never truly understand just how much is lost in translation.   

Spanish is the reason a Bolivian like me can watch Argentine telenovelas, sing along to Puerto Rican music, and share stories with my Mexican friends all at once.     

Language, after all, is vital for communication and the process of building human bonds within a society. Spanish shouldn’t be the exception. According to Beato, it’s crucial to be able to communicate with one’s own culture through its practices in order to ensure its preservation. This includes practicing Spanish at every turn and giving room for others to practice it as well. 

As he described the creation of WEBN Español, he highlighted the importance of our language to our community: “The fact that I’m able to also do news in Spanish is so powerful just because now my family members can understand it, and they can feel like they’re part of the story.” 

Without Spanish, people like Beato’s parents or even my parents wouldn’t be able to take part in the narratives that surround them, which is what makes learning this language so essential. If not for the greater good of Hispanidad, if not even for yourself, learn Spanish for those who have sacrificed enough already.    

Maybe this is a stretch. Maybe I’m being too dramatic or too harsh. Maybe I’m just tired of trying and failing to find my culture and feel comfortable outside of my country. Even if this is the case, I still believe that allowing our heritage language to fade into the background is detrimental. With the recent discourse on this issue, I fear we are far too close to this reality for comfort.

Hispanics shouldn’t have to push aside the form of speech that supports our culture which ultimately powers our collective identity in favor of accommodating the uninitiated.