I was supposed to post this yesterday, but alas, my day was a bit hectic and I didn’t get a chance to write to post. I’m finding this actually quite fun to do, and very cathartic even if no one actually reads it. If you do, and have a question, shot me an email, comment. It’s all good. Now let’s go.

I was the first child of my parents born in the United States. My two oldest siblings spoke Spanish and English, but my other brother only spoke Spanish. There was some hassle enrolling them in school, (This was the 1970s.) So when I was born my mother, of course, only spoke Spanish to me. 

Somehow the school found out I didn’t speak English or wasn’t being taught it all and told my parents that if I didn’t speak English they wouldn’t enroll me. Of course, they stopped teaching me Spanish and taught me only English. Again this is the 1970s. That definitely wouldn’t fly today.

Well, tragedy happened. My Abuela passed away in Spain, so my mother boarded a plane with me. Of course, I forgot all my English and learned Spanish. Then I came home. Guess what? I had to learn English all over again and forgot the Spanish. I didn’t start relearning Spanish till many years later. 

This language roulette caused problems for me at school because my phonetics got confused and I would think in one language while speaking in another. Teachers would tell me to sound words out. When I did, I sounded the English words out with Spanish sounds. I had to memorize how to spell words because I couldn’t sound them out correctly.

So here’s an example. “Weird”. If I’m reading that word, I pronounce it “wired”. There are several other words like that. It also had an effect on my writing. In quick conversation, meaning text or chat, it will make absolutely perfect sense to me, but it will be gibberish to others because I’ll follow Spanish rules for English and vice versa. 

Now back to my heritage. It was when I was fifteen when my mother took me back to Spain that I really embraced my heritage. I met my family, learned my cultural heritage and got a passion for learning about where I come from. I also learned Spanish again.

I am Gitano-Andalus. That’s Gypsy-Andalucian. It’s a complicated, rich heritage. In learning about my heritage, I found out that it wasn’t something people were proud of until Federico Garcia Lorca. He was a Gay man and writer from Fuente Vaqueros, Spain who lived during the reign of Franco.

His works really speak to me. I felt and still feel a great connection with him. Sometimes I’ll randomly grab my book of poetry from him and randomly start reading a poem. He has really inspired me and influenced me in ways that I really can’t explain. 

So that’s a little more about me. I hope it helps you understand me a little better. I’ll leave you with a verse from one of my favorite poems. (In Spanish then English.)

Oda a Walt Whitman 

Puede el hombre, si quiere, conducir su deseo 

por vena de coral o celeste desnudo.

Mañana los amores serán rocas y el Tiempo 

una brisa que viene dormida por las ramas.

Ode to Walt Whitman

Man is able, if he wishes, to guide his desire 

through a vein of coral or a heavenly naked body.

Tomorrow, loves will become stones, and Time 

a breeze that drowses in the branches.