My identity is one that is unmistakably dominated by my nationalities and by my experience with languages and cultures from a very early age. It is these qualities, much more than my sex, class, or race that define who I am. Let me explain.
Born in France to Spanish parents, I spoke French at school and Spanish at home. English only came as my third language when my family immigrated to the United States. It is the only language I remember not knowing at one point in my life. These three languages, and my individual experiences with each respective culture are things that the wheel cannot contain, and that cannot be easily pointed at in media. I will try to explain this in detail.
As I grew older, each of my three languages began to occupy distinct realms in my life, and in consequence began to shape and represent the different facets of my identity. For instance, Spanish became deeply rooted in my sense of family, and perhaps most interestingly with a sense of belonging to a greater tapestry of people that stretches far into the past. Fueled by having the immense privilege of going back to Spain regularly, staying with my grandparents and cousins, I developed a fiercely Spanish identity as a kid. “Yo soy Español!” my cousins and I yelled in unison as we watched Spain win the World Cup when I was nine years old. I was Spanish and only Spanish, I truly believed. Unfortunately, this view did not do justice to the complex nature of who I am. Despite the fact that I looked like my cousins, and that my accent was no different to theirs, I was often struck by the passing sense that I was unlike any of them, and that I was somehow a stranger.
Attempting to shake off my sense of unease, I traced my restlessness back to my birthplace – France. I do not remember learning French, but I do know that my very first memories were in French, from preschool. The association between French and school continued when I moved to the United States and attended an immersion school until eighth grade. In this way, French became inseparable from my concept of studying, and my ideals of a rigorous work ethic. I also acquired a taste for French humor, and for the country’s history and values. I concluded that I could define my identity as a broader Western European one. Unfortunately, my uneasiness persisted. The missing piece of the puzzle was evidently the English language, but how did it fit into my sense of self?
English had, as I previously mentioned, an immediate effect on me. I read almost exclusively in English, and it became my language for the self. It is the language that inspires me and the one in which I feel at my creative and imaginative best. It is my language for individualism, which is a fittingly American value. My parents have recently gained their citizenship, and I have in turn become an American citizen as well. I am proud of this, because if there was ever a country that could reconcile different cultures and allow a person to come and build a new and greater identity, it is the United States of America.
This quest for my sense of identity, however, is one that is deeply personal and that transcends any sort of easy classification. That is why I never looked to see whether I was “represented” in media – it never really mattered to me because I never saw the world through that sort of lens. If a character in media was likeable, or heroic, I empathized and connected with them on a human level regardless of whether they looked like me. This power to united regardless of our diverse identities is what I believe we should focus on; E Pluribus Unum. Out of many, one.
Trifling Works 