My audience for this portfolio is my professor, and anyone who has struggled with language and culture in their lives. My audience also includes people who want to learn about the experiences of people who struggle with self identity because of language and the barriers we live with daily. I tried to write this in a way that helped people understand how important language is and how it shapes us as individuals. 

This project helped me realize that language is more than communication—it is identity. I grew up torn between two cultures and two languages, and for a long time I felt pressured to choose one over the other. While writing my essay, I reflected on how experiences like being judged for speaking Spanish in first grade shaped the way I saw myself. “Sin miedo al éxito” (without fear of success). That phrase helped me accept my story and feel proud of my roots. I wrote about how difficult it can be to embrace your culture in a place where people sometimes make you feel unwanted, but also how powerful it is when you learn to love where you come from. Concepts like code switching, tone, rhetorical situation, etc impacted my writing and learning so much during this process of writing. I thought more about my audience and my writing and how it will impact someone. It made me dig deeper and make deeper connections with my readers. It helped me express myself more effectively. 

Valeria h.

Language has always been more than words for me.

I was six years old when I entered my first grade classroom in New York. It was a new world for me. I was coming from Mexico where I spent most of my childhood. I was born in New York, but raised in Hueytepec, Veracruz. This is a very small rural area of Veracruz surrounded by mountains and sugarcane fields. I grew up on a farm where mornings began with the sound of roosters. My family raised chickens, goats, and many cows, so my mornings often began with feeding the animals before heading to school. It was a very small town and everyone knew each other. There was a very great community, every weekend the people of the town would gather for flea markets or festivals. It was a very slow paced life. Outside of the town you’d find larger towns with small shopping centers. And even further you’d get to the beaches that were one of the biggest tourist attractions of the state. 

Unfortunately, during the 2010’s Mexico became very dangerous, especially Veracruz. Drug trafficking and organized crime started spreading throughout the state. Veracruz became one of the most dangerous states in Mexico during these times. It was dominated by major cartels. The roads were unsafe after dark, as were the streets. People were fleeing to other parts of Mexico after many kidnappings and shootings in the towns that surrounded us. My own grandfather was kidnapped due to his importance in our community as one of the largest agriculturists of Hueytepec. That ultimately led my parents to make the decision to bring me back to the United States. It was the start of a  brand new fast paced life in New York City. So different from the life I knew, and I was about to start first grade for the first time in an American classroom..

When I walked into my new classroom I was filled with mixed feelings. I was both nervous and excited. I could feel my stomach fluttering.I already knew a little English, but not enough to feel confident.Most of what I had learned came from hearing bits and pieces of conversation, but speaking it out loud was a different challenge. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to communicate with other kids. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case, my first friend was a Mexican girl named Sapa. She made me feel comfortable, and we spoke to each other in Spanish. We connected over similar things since we came from the same culture.

 I was very excited that I had found someone who could speak to me in the language I was fluent in and comfortable speaking. As a 6 year old, I was focused on making friends. Everything around me felt strange. The bright posters on the walls with writing I didn’t understand, the buzz of voices surrounding me that were moving too fast for me to catch. Finding someone that I could speak with and understand felt like a lifeline. I was glad the language barrier was not in the way of that.

One day, while we were sitting in groups of four, Sapa and I were chatting when a girl across the table interrupted: “Speak English.” I still remember the expression on her face-it was a look of disgust that made my stomach drop. Her tone was sharp, as if she was scolding us for doing something wrong. Before I could process anything she quickly added, “She’s from Mexico.” She replied, “ew” in disgust. It wasn’t just a word, it was a rejection. At that moment, I realized how much language could separate people. It wasn’t just about words—it was identity, belonging, and whether or not others thought you were “enough” to fit in. I innocently looked away because as much as I didn’t fully understand every word they said, but I didn’t need to, actions and tones are the same in any language. I knew I was being made fun of.

That experience made me never want to speak aloud again. I grew scared to speak in class, afraid of saying the wrong word in English or being judged for speaking Spanish. Before I spoke I had to think in Spanish before I responded in English. I was once so free speaking the language I was able to speak, and now I felt trapped. The language barrier felt like a wall that kept me out of the world I wanted to belong into. I wanted to be “normal” like every kid in the classroom.

As I got more comfortable with English, I started feeling less afraid, but I never let go of Spanish. Little by little, I realized that being bilingual was actually a strength. I began to feel braver, speaking English was like unlocking a door to another world I was unaware of. Knowing two languages gave me the ability to move between different worlds—family and school, Mexico and the U.S.—and that was something to be proud of, not embarrassed about. Spanish was the language of my home. The chatter at family dinners, the bed time stories my mom told, the music that filled my home. English was the language that opened my door to new opportunities and experiences. 

When I look back now, I can see how much that moment in first grade shaped me. Back then it made me feel small and insecure, but now it pushes me to be proud of who I am. I understand that language is never just about words—it’s about history, culture, and identity. For me, Spanish connects me to my roots, my family, and my traditions. English opened doors for me and helped me grow. Together, they make up who I am. Now I’m not afraid to speak, no matter if it’s in Spanish, English, or a mix of both. Literacy gave me the skills to express myself, but language gave me the confidence to accept myself. My story reminds me that language isn’t only about trying to fit in—it’s also about standing strong in your own truth. I’m proud of my roots and proud of where I come from.