Always living in Spanish, by Marjorie Agosin is a story about the author holding on to her culture through difficulties in life. Trying to hold on to where I come from has been very difficult for me as well. From moving three times in a year to not having a roof over my head sometimes, Holding on to a part of my past is one of the most difficult things I have dealt with. Of course, the author talks more of tradition and values. The experience that is shared between her and me, is one of fighting to keep the past alive. The past for the author is her upbringing in Chile. The past for me is finding my freedom in writing. Each of our pasts have value to us. But from an outsider's point of view, poor English is more easily made fun of, than the constant feeling of incompleteness I felt from not being imprisoned by my circumstances.
Though the hardships experienced by the author are worse than anything I have ever had to deal with, my family and I moved multiple times due to hardships as well. The idea that I assumed my parents had, when finally deciding to move, was one of seeking a better situation. I have to confess. I do assume everyone in the entire world holds this very same optimistic idea. The idea of trying to find a better situation for myself became so strong for me once, that I had moved out of my parents house before graduation high school.And just as the author wrote, "that other America that looked with suspicion at those who did not speak English," I had experience many people's questioning about why I chose to mover out of my house. Of course, I could understand the simple curiosity at my predicament, the neighbors accusations of my parents' house being a "shit hole" still bothers me.I felt guilt I could not deal with my family like my peers dealt with theirs. I felt out of place that at one point I was living with another family from a different ethnicity. I felt lost in my situation. I felt as though I was learning how to live out in the real world without any kind of real guidance. I can understand how it must have felt for Agosin when she wrote, "not even the sky has the same constellations."
I think that as humans, we try to cope with our situations the best we can. Oddly enough, the author and I share one way of coping with hard times, writing. And though the author used writing as a tool to keep her language and culture alive, I used it to keep my sanity. While staying at a stranger's house for a year, I had found that writing could be a release (of everything that was inside my soul.) Writing had become my Christ. I had gone to writing not because I enjoyed reading, but because no one I knew would read and question my thoughts. It was almost as if text was an entirely separate language from what my peers spoke. I could access any part of my mind and freely work it into a storm of words. Although like all things, this freedom has faded from my life. But I have recently started to write again. And those old feelings of freedom are starting to come back.
-Yes I know this is a repost. But this is the revised version.
Enjoy.
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