You know it’s a Spic thing when…

“Why don’ jou spik espaneesh?”

First of all, my fellow Miami spics, I am not completely devoid of any knowledge of the Spanish language.  I know enough to get me by in many situations; I know most of the grammar; I understand why some odd words and phrases are the way they are.  I may not be fluent or able to carry on a conversation, but you can’t say that I simply don’t speak it.  But that’s not the point, is it?  You want to know why I don’t represent the countries of my ancestors in some romantic, blood-is-thicker-than-water, high-five-at-a-fútbol-game kind of oneness via the words that come out of my mouth.

Well, for a few reasons.  One: I was not born/raised in a Spanish-speaking country like Mexico, Cuba, or Miami.  I was conceived in Chicago and born (caesarian, by the way [and almost killed my mom!]) in Plantation, Florida.  Over there, people happen to speak English, so that is the language my parents spoke to me, for reasons such as: assimilating with my peers and not being a loner; passing my tests in school; the ability to ask for help and be understood; and, uh, general SURVIVAL.

Reason two: most of my extended family live in places that require air-travel to visit, and most of my childhood friends were of non-hispanic descedence, so I was unlikely to pick up much Spanish skill.

Reason three: Spanish television sucks ass.

And reason four: perhaps the same reason so many hispanics live a good chunk, if not all of their lives in Miami, and never learn any English.

Honestly, I don’t even care much about people learning English when they get off the boat.  I understand it’s hard, and the country’s diversified enough that you can certainly survive if you know the right neighborhoods and the right people.  Language is one’s own prerogative.  But if a whole bunch of Hispanic-Americans are not making an effort to learn English, why should I, an American-Hispanic, make an effort to learn Spanish?  I do believe in the combined effort of people acquiring and using whatever foreign language skills they can– if spic learns a little English and honky learns a little Spanish, ordering food at the counter is so much easier for both.  But I won’t tell you what you should speak if you don’t tell me what I should speak.  It’s not perfect but it’s peaceful.

But survival aside, the aspect that I find really annoying, really meaningless, is the pride bullshit“Ees in jour blood!” No, dumbass, plasma and alcohol are in my blood.  Sorry, but I have no team spirit– not for my school, not for group-projects, not for kickball, not for my parents’ countries, and not for my own.  (Even right after 9/11, I tried my damnedest not to roll my eyes when that shitty “Proud to Be an American” song would come on.)  I’m not anti-American or anti- any country, and hey, good for everyone who actually feels some kind of significant connection to their place of origin; and although I do like my hometown, I can’t think of the place as anything more than that– a place.  A place is a place and a language is a language– yeah, they contribute to who you are, but if you’re gonna invest your pride and emotion, isn’t that still the same no matter where you’re from?  Everyone waves a flag, they’re just different colors and patterns.  And I’m not going to speak Spanish because you’re proud of your country.

So to all those douchewads who harp on me (and other non-Spanish-speaking spics), chinga tu madre, y tenga un buen dia.

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~ by rabbit on July 12, 2009.

One Response to “You know it’s a Spic thing when…”

  1. la puta madre

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