Speak Good by Julio Hernandez

As immigrants in the USA my family often ran into hard times in regards to being accepted socially however luckily there were many other immigrants from Mexico, typically running small stores for produce or other forms of “comida”. When we first came I was very young only three or four years of age “mis padres y hermanos” were much older than I and remember how It was like to come into this country. They always had comical stories of how “Los Americanos” spoke Spanish, they would be saying things like “Me lamo” or “Tengo an-os” just thinking of it brings tears to my eyes.

To give some more background we moved from Mexico City all the way to Ohio, which is a state next to the great lakes and is quite north in respects to the USA. This mean there was a great climate change for us, on average every winter it got well below 0 degrees. However, It didn’t bother me I was always intrigued by the snow and its wondrous properties it always glistened even when it appeared that there was no “sol”around. My family weren’t very rich so we had to live in “un casa pequena” we were happy to be there and have such a wonderful opportunity, however some were not too keen on us being there.

Due to my family living in Mexico for most of their lives they developed a strong accent and way of speaking that carried through to english or any other language they were trying to learn. “Mis hermanos” had a very hard time in school learning English and often were made fun of with words like “Beaner” or “Alien” I never understood why so much hatred could be focused on others just because of their speech. There was one time when “mi hermano mayor” tried to asked a student what the homework was after he had been absent the day prior. This did not please the other student who unleashed a verbal barrage of how he wouldn't be associated with the likes of some beaner who couldn't “speak good”. This boy was from the inner city as many of the other students were, however he also spoke of his discrimination because of his skin, that I couldn’t comprehend at the time. Why would someone be discriminated by their identity, by who they are as a person, and if was truly discriminated then why was starting the same vicious cycle against my brother.

This wasn’t only one of many occasions where “mi familia” was hated or hurt by others because we couldn’t “speak good”. Luckily I wasn’t old enough for elementary school when we arrived so I attended preschool and kindergarten where we were not separated by our race, language or even appreciations in life. We were all together in such an infant state where we weren’t influenced by others on what we can and can’t do or believe. But, even that enjoyment wouldn’t last in the ladder of kindergarten I started to notice changes in my friends and fellow students, one by one they started to split off into interest groups, and then by race and finally by language. Once again I was lucky because my brain was still not molded into a strict pattern I was capable of socializing with both Spanish and English speaking students. Some were not as lucky typically outcasted in the playground and shunned from any group, these were the non-christians and the non-english speakers. Lost amongst the crowds incapable of socializing.

There was a girl, she was unfortunately cursed to bear the cross of not “speaking good”, I started to notice her around February always in a corner or in the shadows, I never saw her with friends or talking with anyone, she had long hair a brown eyes the size of those huge bouncy balls. I only saw her look up and immediately run away after I attempted to approach her one day, she seemed very she and didn’t seem like she even wasn’t friends. It was almost as if she accepted to pain and knew only that pain of loneliness and discrimination from those who claim to feel the pain and seek out to stop it.

That day I realized no matter who you are and how kind or nice you may be you will be incapable of appreciation unless you “Speak Good”.