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  Alikakos, Irene

  Irene Alikakos

  I.’s story centers on linguistic shame tied to gender and ethnicity in her multilingual, Mexican-Greek household and upbringing. I. describes her family as patriarchal where gender divisions influenced language use. English is her first language, spoken at home. Spanish is her mother’s language, associated with women's housework, humor, gossip, and lullabies. Greek, her father’s language, represents her larger family and ethnic upbringing. I. describes language as a powerful tool to appreciate diverse perspectives and further studied all three languages in school. Her narrative includes the racialized experiences of both her parents. Her father faced linguistic discrimination from white Americans, while her Greek relatives excluded her mother, a Latina, giving her no voice or decision-making power. While I. saw her mother’s true identity expressed in Spanish, in English, she felt her mother was forced to perform. Because of her mixed background, in her Greek family I. felt 'othered' and excluded, her Mexican/Latina heritage ignored. It was assumed that Greek would be the dominant ethnic language for herself and her siblings. Although her parents invested heavily in Greek school, her language skills never matched those of her Greek peers, who spoke it at home. This led to feelings of frustration, shame, and disappointment, realizing her Greek skills were used as a measure of her belonging. Having also faced judgment from the Latinx community at college, I. is critical of strict associations between language and ethnic identity, seeing it as a limited, often exclusionary view. Aware of the intimacy she shared with her mother through Spanish, I. reflects on how her limited Greek excludes her from the full love of and connection to her father and his family. I. disclosed her frustration towards exploring her multicultural identity.

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  Diana Bahena and Itzel Linares

  Diana Bahena and Itzel Linares

  I. and D. share experiences of linguistic shame rooted in their homes and families, marked by shaming and pressure to speak Spanish. D. recalls relatives insisting she “speak more Spanish” and criticizing her as “not Mexicana enough;” today that pressure is on her daughter. I. describes frequent correction and mockery of her pronunciation. They note that youngsters are often the target of this linguistic violence. Despite these experiences, both credit themselves with strong Spanish skills, learned in Mexico, at home, and through college and graduate studies. They describe Spanish as their language of love, personal conversations, jokes, gossip, and a bond to older Latines at work, their heritage, and Mexico itself. They also recognize their potential to being bridges and brokers for others. Both wish for healthier, more supportive ways to preserve Spanish, with I. calling for efforts to “dismantle generational curses.” They link familial (internal) shaming to the broader (external) linguistic violence experienced in the community, highlighting how household pressures can contribute to creating shame in the larger community. While they haven’t personally faced linguistic violence in the community or in academic settings with their classmates, they’ve witnessed it, including jokes like “no sabo kid” or “tiene el nopal en la frente.” They have a deep understanding of the other side of linguistic shaming, recognizing their immigrant elders' fear of losing Spanish as tied to preserving identity, which is heartbreaking. D. and I. highlight that immigration to America necessarily comes with assimilation and some language lost. While they acknowledge this struggle on both sides, they argue that identity transcends language. They advocate for less rigid, more loving intergenerational way to preserve culture—ones that avoid perpetuating stereotypes and violence, both from white communities and within their own.

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  Casimiro, Mary Maxine Aguirre

  Mary Maxine Aguirre Casimiro

  M. shares her story of linguistic shame, emphasizing both her own and her family's loss of language and culture over the years due to racial pressure to assimilate. M. is first generation on her father's side and third generation on her mother's side. M. identifies as Chicana and “no sabo,” a label given to those who lost their Spanish language. However, M. notes that her Spanish proficiency does not make her any less Latina or Chicana. She views language loss, along with her imposed “no sabo” identity, as the result of systemic racial injustice. M. feels that her language and culture were stolen from her. She traces the roots of this linguistic and cultural violence to the colonization of Southern California by the Spanish, the genocide of Indigenous peoples, and the boarding school system that targeted Indigenous and Mexican youth. She links this history to her personal experiences of systemic racial injustice, including her father’s deportation, her mother’s incarceration, and her placement in the foster care system at age 13, followed by further institutionalization as an adult. As a Chicana mother, M. is determined to provide her children with the cultural, economic, and community opportunities she missed by not growing up bilingual. She credits the Latinx Testimonio project with helping her realize that being Latina-Chicana is about more than speaking perfect Spanish.

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  Jaramillo, Agustin

  Agustin Jaramillo

  A. connects linguistic shame with his process of self-acceptance as a bilingual Latino/Chicano. A. notes his Spanish “is not that bad,” since he can speak and communicate, but lacks Spanish speakers to communicate with in his personal life. To A. the most poignant experience of linguistic shame is around the stigma surrounding Spanish sounding names, specially when he joined the U.S. Air Force in 2002. The Americanization and mockery of his name caused lasting shame and feelings of inferiority tied to his bilingual skills and Latinx identity. To cope, A. built separate linguistic and community "boxes," which he now sees as part of the self-harm. Over time, he has worked to break free from this boxing and embrace his bilingualism as a natural and empowering way to express himself. While native bilingualism can be a source of benefit, A. has mostly experience as a source of harm and shame, leading to feelings of anger, unhealthy relations and negative self-thoughts, and other challenges and barriers in his life. A. distinguishes between internal and external linguistic harm, acknowledging that while external harm is beyond his control, his personal journey focuses on eliminating self-inflicted harm. Through this transformation, he reinvented a healthier self-image as a U.S. citizen with Mexican heritage, and has a desire to share his experience to build community.

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  Valencia, Jocelyn

  Jocelyn Valencia

  J. is a 3rd year student at NEIU. J. narrates her experience of linguistic shame, focusing on safe spaces to speak Spanish in academic settings in the Midwest. She discloses experiencing racial, gender, and linguistic discrimination in these spaces, including conferences and campuses, highlighting how people are treated differently based on their way of speaking. J. conveys the deep sadness and anger this unjust treatment evokes in her. J. relates to speaking Spanish in academic spaces as a purposeful choice and her "mini-revolution;" a way to assert her presence and claim her belonging in places where she has been told—explicitly or implicitly—that she does not belong. Speaking Spanish situates her on an intergenerational line: she honors the legacy of those who worked hard for her to occupy academic spaces while also making room for future generations by speaking Spanish. At the beginning and end of her narrative, J. describes her profound connection to Spanish and to Latin American and Latin culture, particularly through clothing and aesthetics.

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  Vargas-Molina, Jacqueline

  Jacqueline Vargas-Molina

  J. shares her experience of linguistic shame, focusing on discrimination she and her family from both Spanish and English speakers, and also on not feeling understood due to her bilingual identity. J. acknowledges the Latinx Testimonio project for providing a space to address silenced emotions related to bilingualism and language issues. J. graduated in Spring 2024 with a Masters in Social Work at Northeastern Illinois University. J. is the eldest daughter born in the U.S. to Mexican parents. J. grew up speaking only Spanish at home, though her household later became bilingual with “a lot of Spanglish.” J. recounts her first visit to Mexico three years earlier, where she initially felt self-conscious about her accent and unsure which language to use. She eventually let go of the fear of being judged and enjoyed her trip, connecting more with her roots. J. describes her Spanish as heritage Spanish—informal, learned at home. J. sees Spanish (and Spanglish) as a unifying force for the Latinx community. Hearing it sparks curiosity about the speaker's identity and background, a reaction she doesn't have with English. J. rejects the notion that not speaking or writing Spanish makes someone a "traitor," emphasizing that language proficiency isn’t always a choice and the resentment linguistic discrimination can cause. J. highlights two struggles as a bilingual Latina: First, the negative experience she had while acting as interpreter and language broker for her Spanish-speaking mother, especially in medical settings where they faced discrimination and a lack or denial of translation services. J. often shielded her mother from abusive language and treatment, but regrets not filing complaints. She considers the difficulties her mother (single mother of three with two jobs) had in taking English classes is part of the discrimination. Now, her mother avoids hospitals without Spanish-speaking staff, fearing mistreatment. J.’s second struggle is the constant pressure to speak both English and Spanish “properly,” feeling inadequate in both languages. I claims that bullying others for not speaking Spanish can lead to resentment in the long run. Despite these challenges, J. values the benefits of bilingualism, such as being able to connect with both the English-speaking and Latinx communities, earning bilingual pay at work, and embracing her roots, even though her accent may draw judgment.

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  Zhunio, Cristina

  Cristina Zhunio

  C. reflects on her experience and embodiment of linguistic shame, describing a sense of being split between two personas by language and struggling to fully be herself. She recounts her linguistic journey from Ecuador to Florida and then Chicago, marked by language and community loss. In Ecuador, Spanish was a cherished national symbol to be respected and cultivated, and she enjoyed learning English. Moving to Florida for high school, surrounded by other Latin American immigrants, she preserved her oral Spanish through social interactions but lost some writing skills. In contrast, she excelled in written English but struggled with speaking, leading classmates to make fun of her due to her lack of English proficiency and label her as "dumb." This marked a shift from being a high-achieving student in Ecuador to feeling like a poor student in the U.S. Despite academic struggles, in Florida she had a community where she could fully be herself beyond the inferiority she felt at school. In Chicago, the split in her identity became stark. Without a community and immersed in English, her feeling as she had an 'speech impediment' became overwhelming. The "C. in English" had a voice but couldn't speak well; the "C. in Spanish" felt silenced. At this time, C. felt as if part of her was going to die. To revitalize her connection to Spanish, C. pursued it academically in college and graduate school, which brought her joy. In doing so, her affectation for Spanish. C. sees Spanish not in terms of loyalty or patriotism but as essential to her survival, identity, connection to family and memory, and also as a way of resistance.