Opening thoughts on my Literacy Autobiograpy

The first time I ever realized I didn't speak English "right" was when I was in 8th grade. I was in my social studies class and a conversation about Cuba came up. As I put in my two cents, I pronounced the word "Koo-bah." I then heard the snickers behind me. I turned around and the two white boys sitting there told me, "It's not 'Koo-bah', it's 'Cuebah.'" That had an almost immediate effect on me. Instead of correcting their error, telling them that I had pronounced it correctly because Cuba is, after all, a Spanish-speaking nation, I was made to feel guilty and ashamed of my English. I had suffered what Gloria Anzaldua called "linguistic terrorism." My language and my way of speaking had been designated as illegitimate, and along with that, my identity was designated as illegitimate. From that point, speaking English "correctly" became an obsession for me. I became that friend that annoyingly corrected everybody on their speaking and writing mistakes. I had no tolerance for people who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're.

All throughout my high school years, I privileged the use of English over Spanish. I used Spanish only when absolutely necessary, such as when speaking to my parents. I even stopped watching Spanish language television, which I used to enjoy, and watched only American English language television. I did take two years of Spanish Literature in high school, and I actually enjoyed them. But my reasoning for taking those courses was that they fullfilled the foreign language requirement, not any desire to become immersed in my native language. It wasn't until I came to UC Berkeley and started taking various courses on identity, Latin American History, etc. that my attitudes began to change. I came to see Spanish as an integral part of my identity. Being away from my family, I tried to speak Spanish in as many situations as possible. I no longer saw English as the only legitimate public language. But I don't blame those two boys in my social studies class. After all, "[u]ntil I can accept as legitimate... all the other languages I speak, I cannot accept the legitimace of myself" (Anzaldua).

That 8th grade class is when I made that conscious decision for the first time. But if I am honest with myself, I admit that the separation between my literacy in English and my native culture began years before, in elementary school. I can earnestly describe myself as one of Richard Rodriguez's "scholarship boys." From the early years of my elementary school career, maybe since 1st grade, reading became an addiction for me. Whereas Rodriguez says that he started his reading adventure because he thought "[b]ooks were going to make [him] 'educated,'" I actually fell in love with reading. I did "realize that reading would open up whole new worlds," as Rodriguez's teacher once told him. I didn't look for grand ideas or themes. I looked simply for entertainment, for adventure. But that difference didn't save me from experiencing the same effects. I read everything and devoured the written word. In the 4th grade, I could read a chapter book in two hours that today would probably take me two days. I came to realize that my home environment was not conducive to my reading habits...