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. I grew up on a farm and went to school with all the kids that lived in my neighborhood. It was a very small town and everyone knew each other.

 Unfortunately, during the 2010’s Mexico became very dangerous, especially Veracruz. Drug trafficking became a very serious issue here. So I had to come back to New York full time with my parents. 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.