Spanish. My first love. My longest relationship. A relationship that is slowly drifting from my fingertips. I try to grasp it as much as I can; for as long as I can. 

How did I lose my relationship with Spanish?

I speak it at home, in Spanish class, with my family, with friends, with pets. I am completely fluent so why is it, why do I feel like the language has walked away from my life. I sound funny now. Like a baby babbling to pronounce its first word. The tongue not rolling quite right. Why do I sound so oddly funny, off?  Speaking Spanish, something so natural. Green and a living habit, a trait that came instinctively to me just like it was meant to be. Spanish rolling off my tongue in a smooth echo. Spanish my first love. 

How do I get you back? Do I speak it as much as I can? Do I find the opportunity to use it? 

Will that fix anything? Is it even fixable? Am I fixable?

I miss it. The proud chest filling feeling of being bilingual. The stress of translating legal documents to my parents but the amazing ability everyone praised. I do not want to be Americanized. A plastic Mexican? A fake? A replacement its ashaming.

My parents would be ashamed of the loss of my first language. I've lost my connection. A connection that used to run so deeply in me. Pulsating in my veins around my culture. I am afraid I will never get it back. I am afraid I will soon sound like a beginner. Excited to share what was learned after a few classes. But in reality I have been speaking it my whole life. My first connection. My first me. My first love. 

Everything about me has been colonized. The way I dress, the way I speak, the way I act. Dressing just like every other person does instead of wearing boots, sombreros, and pantalones vaqueros. Replacing my Spanish and mixing it with English instead. Acting like m trying to wash the Mexican off of me with burning hot water. I feel like I am a mere replacement, trying to hide. There are many things that have driven me to hide. The many stereotypes I have to constantly be worried about. Do I look too Mexican? What if they're talking about me? Why does my accent always have to come out around them? 

It's a constant battle of who I’m supposed to be. My blood, the culture, language, region that has been seeped into me since the beginning or the masked me I try to present to not be who they don’t want me to be. 

But what if they think I'm a job stealer? Another Mexican person in the U.S? Assume I'm poor? A wetback? And if I am so what. Trying my best to fit in and contain the Mexican part of me. Causing me to lose who I was. Why should I be the one ashamed? 

They should be ashamed. The lady that assumed my dad didn't speak English. Although he doesn't. Rather she screamed he had no place inside the small corner store. No space for a dark person like him. Or the man that didn’t let my uncle use the restroom and instead called the cops on my uncle for being “illegal” even though he was just visiting and had his visa and paperwork up to date, perfect. Or everyone thinking the only thing my cousin wants from her boyfriend is papers when in reality all she’s looking for is love. Or the small comments ¨you're too pretty to be Mexican!¨  ¨Your light skin is so pretty!¨  Ashamed. They should be ashamed 

I am who I am. The too Mexican for you means everything to me. My Spanish, my culture, my family. Everything that was given to me by blood. It shall come to light even if it makes you uncomfortable. You should become comfortable. In a stolen land I will be who I want.