America loves your food, but not you
Have you ever thought about what it would be like if you weren’t an English speaker? If you’re reading this article, I can only assume that you’re an English speaker, or at least a fluent English reader.
Imagine that you’re meeting up with a friend for a late lunch, or that you’ve been commissioned by the county to work on an infrastructure refurbishing project.
Here you are — communicating with your co-workers or friends, generally minding your own business. Suddenly, a total stranger begins to yell at you with a deranged look in their eyes. They shout things like, “Speak English!” and “We’re in America!”, reminding you that it’s somehow disrespectful to Americans to speak your native tongue — solely on the basis that it’s not the common language — before spitting out some diatribe about how “you” people are ruining this country.
Next, imagine that you’re the stranger. It’s been one month since the moment that you verbally harassed a Spanish speaker…and you just happen to have a craving for “ethnic food”. You find yourself visiting your favorite ethnic food stall situated at the corner of your gentrified neighborhood. You rave and rant to your friends about how this place has “THE BEST” ethnic food you’ve ever tried, and you proceed to recommend it to everyone because it tastes homemade and authentic.
Every day, we scroll past viral clips such as radio host Dianna Ploss harassing Spanish speakers doing their job, and New York attorney, Aaron Schlossberg who threatened to call ICE on a group of employees talking Spanish on our smartphones. Our tumultuous political atmosphere has emboldened people to believe that it’s their American right to demand Latinos to “speak English” simply because they do not understand Spanish. It may come as a surprise, but a monolingual person is not entitled to the contents of another language speaker’s conversation.
There is a particular reason why the U.S. does not have an official language. From the very beginning, our Founding Fathers believed that our diversity was the most “American” thing about America. Immigrants who had found their way to the then-colonies spoke their language and drew from experiences rooted in their cultural backgrounds. It would have been inherently un-democratic and “un-American” to demand a single government-sanctioned language. Today, people from a vast array of backgrounds engage with one another in a wide range of languages — Chinese, Indian, Filipino, English, French, Italian, and the list goes on. Depending on your location, you may hear hints of every single one of these languages on any given day. Whole communities of people brought together by a shared cultural heritage have blossomed into cultural microcosms, and these can be found in every major city in the United States. It’s no wonder that we are free to enjoy places like Chinatown, Little Italy, and the whole of East LA.
People from many unique backgrounds comprise varied minority communities, yet we all share one thing in common: we are regularly the victims of harassment for the sole act of using our native language. Every day, it is relatively common to glimpse a Facebook post or a tweet of someone (usually a person of color) that recounts an experience of being at the receiving end of an inane, racist, and xenophobic diatribe from a red-blooded American, seemingly threatened by something innocuous as language. Monolingual Americans feel entitled to demand people of color and those from multicultural backgrounds to speak English, ostensibly because they are threatened by what they perceive as “foreignness”.
But we, as Americans, are a consumerist society. We love to consume — movies, books, games, everything. However, there’s one thing that we love to consume most of all.
Food — And food culture for that matter. How often do you come across the Thai-Mexican fusion pad thai tacos in Los Angeles, or the Japanese-Italian fusion pizzas in New York City, or Greek-Korean kimchi and chickpea burger patties in Portland?
America is truly the place of diversity.
For food.
Ever celebrated St. Patrick’s Day? Did you lament that Cinco De Mayo landed on Taco Tuesday in 2020, only to be stymied by COVID-19? Or did you celebrate anyways? You really shouldn’t have. I believe it would have been quite tricky to stay socially distant, especially when you and your buddy are struggling to keep your balance after your twelfth tequila shot.
Being a Latino, I have often watched my culture represented in many wonderful and not-so-wonderful ways. Mexican food, however, has always seemed to garner the respect it deserves. My friends have always loved my mother’s cooking; with each home visit, they’d eat all the tamales, and even ask whether they could take some home to their folks. I was proud of that.
As an adult, co-workers and friends have often asked me to make my arroz con mole, a savory sauce consisting of chocolate, almonds, chili peppers, and other ingredients, usually paired with chicken and rice. Avid lovers of the dish often ate seconds and thirds, and those without any experience with Mexican food (beyond the standard burrito) would thoroughly enjoy it. Again, I’d feel proud.
But…there always seemed to be a slight air of discomfort, especially when my family were present at these events and when we’d find ourselves organically speaking Spanish to each other.
Is it linguistic insecurity? Is it the fear that an established way of life and culture is being threatened by another in this “melting pot of the world”?
I don’t know. All I know is that white people love our burritos de carne asada.
But they don’t love us.
In the streets, in movies, in popular culture, and everywhere else, people love and enjoy Mexican food. But American respect for my cultural heritage begins and ends at that — my food. As a child, I was ridiculed for my accent at school and was often asked why “I spoke the way I do” by my classmates. I had no answer for them. I remember feeling ashamed at my accent, so much so that I’d often choose not to speak at all. In my youth, I hated being a Spanish speaker. It took me years to realize that that wasn’t my fault. I existed in a system that actively undermined my talent as a bilingual speaker. And as a young, impressionable child, of course, I grew to be ashamed of my cultural roots because of how America treats The Other.
President Trump and his uncaring, cavalier tweets and speeches have opened the door to open targeting of non-white Americans. From the Muslim ban, to calling COVID-19 the “Kung-Flu virus” — and even his long-held campaign promises of “building a great big wall” at the U.S./Mexico border — all are racially charged sentiments voiced by Trump, setting the precedent that it is now “open season” on all minorities in America. Rhetoric like this is dangerous, and precisely why people like this end up going viral on Facebook.
This year, amid a global pandemic, the United States threatened to void the visas of nearly one million international students, as an attempt to force universities to open schools, despite COVID-19 cases trending upwards. One million international students were faced with the decision of either risking their health and well-being by physically attending school, or flying back to their home countries at a tremendous financial loss, flights being unavailable notwithstanding. President Trump has since rescinded his statement after being sued by both the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Harvard, and other institutions.
But the message is still crystal clear — We remain categorically rejected by the United States.
I guess 2020 isn’t that woke after all.
And at the end of the day, what we’re left with is a general feeling of unease and under-appreciation. Our country has begun to engage in efforts to acknowledge black lives and respect non-white cultures, albeit examples of those stoking the fires of disharmony outweigh those engaging in meaningful dialogue.
But I’ll end on this note.
Learn our languages — I promise they’re beautiful, and your life will be richer for it. Trust me, we are much more than that “perfect” Tex-Mex place around the corner. And our language is just as American as Korean-Mexican fusion food.
Collectively, we can all do much more to prop up non-white communities in America — and that starts with first recognizing that we are more than just the assortment of ingredients crowding your American plate.