I Speak Spanish: Sorry About That

The issue of language and cultural identity continues to cause a stir in some corners of this country.

In Dallas, the police chief announced that they were investigating 39 traffic violations issued to drivers for the sole reason that they did not speak English. The fine was 204 dollars. At least six cops were involved in this type of ticketing over the span of three years, so the problem cannot be attributed to the obsession of one eager officer.

There is no law that says that it is illegal not to speak English (though, of course, it is highly recommended to do so), so Dallas officials did the right thing in bringing this problem to light as soon as they were aware of it and launching an investigation to try to figure out why it happened.

In Taos, New Mexico, another curious incident of a similar nature took place. An entrepreneurial hotelier purchased a rundown little inn with the intention of renovating and reviving it, and in the process he made a series of changes in the hotel’s personnel management policies. As a part of these changes, he ordered some of his employees to Anglicize their Hispanic-sounding names. And so Martín became Martin, Marcos turned into Mark etc.

According to the hotel’s manager, Larry Whitten, the employees that deal with customers at the front desk and over the phones should have names that average folks can understand and pronounce.

Whitten told a local paper that his order to change the names had “nothing to do with racism, just a desire to satisfy my guests, because people calling from all over America don’t know the Spanish accents or the Spanish culture or the Spanish anything.”

I had a good laugh when I came across this ridiculous statement. In what world does Mr. Whitten live? The people of the United States, according to him, don’t know that there is such a thing as Latino culture and that many Latinos live right here in this very country? Really? Who are these people that are so unaware?

I understand, of course, that it can be a bit inconvenient when someone has a thick accent and you can’t understand their English. I’ve called customer service many times and been put through to a kid in India that I can barely understand. All the same, I try to pick up on what he’s saying, and I ask him to repeat himself if there’s something I don’t catch, because someone named Siddhartha has a right to work just the same as everybody else.

But these communication issues aside, a person’s name is, well, an extremely personal thing. If my name is Pilar, how should I disguise it to better accommodate these people to whom Mr. Whitten refers, to these people who live in a parallel universe where all names come from the British Isles? Maybe I should change it to something like Pailar? Would that help anybody out?

Nonsense. If I have to interact with clients or work as an effective journalist, I must try hard to speak the best English I can and make myself clearly understood, but I shouldn’t have to change my name; my name is part of my culture and my very identity.

It’s obvious that in both the case of the Dallas police ticket frenzy and the debacle with the Taos hotel manager that the controversies were fueled, if not by overt racism, then at least by misguided attitudes and actions. What is strange to me is that the two kerfuffles took place in the Southwest, in Texas and New Mexico, and not in more homogenous states like Kansas or Idaho.

At any rate, as far as we Hispanics, Latinos, Latin Americans and Chicanos go, all these and all other possible identities that can be derived from the people of the world who speak Spanish or are bilingual have always been a part of this country, and this is true now more so than ever.

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Translation: Willow Schenwar.

Willow Schenwar is a writer and editor based in Chicago. Her essays and book reviews have appeared in The Philadelphia Inquirer, Z Magazine and Religion Dispatches.