As Hispanic Heritage Month comes to an end, we want to shed light on some of the stories from different parts of our culture. We are Hispanic, and while our similarities bring us together, we also have all dealt with our own battles growing up that have made us feel disconnected from our roots. Throughout our lives, the phrase “no sabo kid” has stuck with us. It is used to describe Hispanics who do not fluently understand or speak Spanish, as a joke of sorts, but it is a lot more than that. We ask ourselves many questions, like what being Hispanic means to all of us? And how we find our place in culture through the various disconnections we have encountered.Â
Linzy
I grew up on two different islands : Grand Island, New York, and Nassau, Bahamas. It was a lot for my family and I, but we made it through. One of the hardest parts for me was not feeling like I fit in anywhere. Living in the Bahamas, I knew I was not home, but when I moved back to Grand Island, it did not feel like home anymore. You might be wondering, “Oh, what does that have to do with being hispanic?” Well, I was one of only a couple hispanics in both locations. There were always a few, and we always found each other, but even with them, I never felt connected to hispanic culture. None of us really were. Because the truth is, when you grow up in a non-hispanic area, you are not going to be fully connected to the culture. You can use Vicks VaporRub to cure illness, rub an egg or cut a potato to get rid of a fever, and eat Mexican food (like my family), but there is still that missing link.
A large part of that is not speaking the language. Do not get me wrong, I am pretty good with Spanish now; I speak it with my mom’s side of the family and often at work (as well as mandatory Spanish classes in school since second grade), not to mention my Spanglish es perfecto. But, we did not grow up speaking Spanish. It just was not something my parents thought to teach me. Culture is held together with language, and when you do not know the language, it is hard to connect to a culture. The same is true for all of us no sabo kids out there.
Jenna
Genetically I am Mexican and German, a 50/50 split, but it is not as simple as the blood running through my veins that makes me feel comfortable in my skin. When I think of my experience growing up as a mixed kid, what comes to mind are the people I was surrounded by. I grew up in areas with a white population of well over 60% consistently throughout my life, with most of my friends fitting into this demographic. It was something I never considered I was influenced by, but as a no sabo kid, this blend into society made me lose more and more of myself as time passed. I think about the idea of code switching a lot, and I cannot help but think of chameleons. Chameleons are beautiful reptiles that have a unique skill of changing colors to camouflage and hide from predators. It is a technique used by animals in the wild so they can survive. The strange thing is, that I never thought of myself as a Chameleon; that was until I met some really wonderful friends from Mexico that made me realize there was a whole side of myself that I had been suppressing. It was never intentional, but I noticed a difference in myself when I was with them. I saw myself being open in a new way, and was so excited to learn and connect.Â
Today, I find myself thinking of Hispanic Heritage Month in a new light. I have learned I need to start connecting with my heritage in a new way; the community is not only about language, but about accepting who you are and being proud of it. My friends from Mexico showed me something I have not seen in myself before, and it taught me that I can be mixed and not feel like I need to fit in some box of one or the other. I do not need to “choose” a side, but rather embrace both. They helped me with phrases, they showed me parts of our culture I did not know, and most of all they gave me an outlet where I can learn and grow. I still struggle feeling confident in who I am, but building a stronger relationship with all aspects of my identity is important to me. I want to grow into this more well rounded version of myself, but it takes caring enough to learn, and always remembering that I do belong, and that I do truly fit into this community.
Eily
“Lo Entiendo, Más de lo Que lo Hablo” has been a saying engraved in the frontier of my mind since I was young. It was the saying I mumbled to my grandmother’s friends as they spoke rapid fire Spanish, throwing in slang I have never heard before. It was the saying I told my friends, who were shocked to find out I was Puerto Rican, but always responded in English to their Spanish statements.Â
Growing up in an area surrounded by Spanish speakers, the color of my skin, my curly hair, all of the physical defining features of my heritage that I thought were so important dissipated once I could not utter a word in our native language. To many, there was a name to this, a “No sabo kid”, one who could speak little to no Spanish. It was the backbone of jokes in my home, something meant to bring amusement to those who were fluent. It was something I laughed about with my friends, something my parents have giggled about at family reunions. However, to me, this label was a branding that hindered me in the ways of our culture. I felt like an outcast, the odd one out. I felt as if I, someone of mixed origin to begin with, would not fit in on either side of her heritage. My family hardly celebrated our culture in our home in general. I knew no special traditions, I could not tell you facts about my country, and the cherry on top was that I could not speak Spanish.Â
It was not until I came to college and surrounded myself with people of different cultures that I recognized the importance of cultural identity. I noticed that in a place where so many looked differently, I wanted to own where I was from. I learned that not speaking the language of your culture does not separate you from it. It does not take away the blood that runs through your veins, or the values you were taught as a child. It did not change my superstitious mother or waking up at 7am to music blazing through the living room. It did not change the dances my relatives would force me to do or the whispers of “tu nuca sabes” my father would utter as I left the house.
 I came to understand that being a “no sabo” was not something I should view as a means to divide, but simply a part of the culture I desperately wanted to be in. I came to know that I, no matter the words I spoke, how I looked, or my mixed heritage, that I was still Puerto Rican.
So here is a dedication to every little boy and girl whose culture feels so far away; know that it is something that is found within you; it is something that no one can steal from you. And as this time comes to an end, Happy Hispanic Heritage Month to all!