When I was around eight years old, I learned what a quinceñera was. I later went up to my mom and asked when I could have one; she responded by telling me that despite my father’s culture, I would not be having a quinceñera in the future. Her reason being that my grandmother had told us very little about her culture. I was a little upset as I wanted to have a celebration like that; I thought it was beautiful and special. However, I got over it and accepted the fact that it would never happen.
My grandmother, whom we call Abuelita, is from Bolivia. She lived there for her whole childhood and eventually immigrated to the United States in her 20s. By starting this new life, Abuelita, along with many others, learned English and began to speak her native language less. Since she was in a new country, she felt the need to adapt to the language and speak English as much as possible.
She rarely spoke Spanish at home when my dad was growing up; whenever she spoke her native language, she didn’t expect my dad or his brothers to answer in Spanish. Since my father rarely spoke Spanish at home growing up, I never spoke Spanish either. As a child, my knowledge of the Spanish language came more from Dora the Explorer than Abuelita.
Abuelita rarely ever mentions her life back in Bolivia, and when she does, my family listens, and sometimes even writes down her stories so that we don’t forget what she told us. Most of the time, her stories aren’t traditions but just events from her childhood. I am unaware of any traditions my ancestors had or any important events that they celebrated. Luckily, there are two things in my house that represent my culture, including a little Bolivian flag and a little statue Abuelita has given us. We were told if anything on it breaks, we would be cursed with bad luck, so we keep it tucked away in a cabinet.
I grew up in a town that has a high population of Hispanic people. Through the years, I’ve had Hispanic friends, and some of them even spoke Spanish at home. I always felt a little jealous that they were always fluent in a second language. They were constantly embracing their culture and would talk about the various traditions their families had. I was the opposite. I felt isolated from them and rarely ever brought up my culture, as I thought they would see me as not Hispanic enough. It got to a point where some of my closest friends didn’t know of my culture and were shocked to find out I wasn’t of an ethnicity like Italian or Jewish.
The older I get, the more I wish I knew about Bolivia and the culture of my heritage. Even though Abuelita doesn’t speak Spanish often anymore, she continues to watch TV shows and programs from Spanish-speaking countries. When I visit, she is always trying to guess the answers on Spanish Wheel of Fortune and her other game shows, and hearing her speak Spanish and sharing these moments with her are my favorite memories.
Little by little, I am learning more about my culture. To anyone else in the same boat, don’t be afraid to embrace where you came from. Whether you know a lot about it or not, it’s your culture to celebrate. You don’t need to fit into a stereotype to belong to your heritage.