Ay nako! I'm about as American as Apple Flan Cassava-- a tricultural fusion of desserts that would probably be a coconut apple custard in a pie crust with caramel on top. It combines the American dessert, Apple Pie, Nicaraguan dessert, Flan, and the Filipino dessert, Cassava. Like this dessert, I am also a bit of a cultural hybrid. Last Christmas, for example, my family and I danced Salsa and ate a dinner of traditional Nicaraguan and Uruguayan dishes, at my Tia Jannet's house; tia is Spanish for aunt. Then we drove to my Tita Vicki's Christmas party, where we sang Karaoke and played games while snacking on noodles. Tita is the Tagalog word for aunt, although it need not refer to anybody related to one by blood; Tita can refer to a close family friend. The following morning, we went to my Aunt Caroline's house where we quietly ate Grandma Wagner's Apple Pie and opened our gifts. Growing up half Nicaraguan, half German-American, and immersed in the Filipino culture of my mother's closest friends, I have developed a thorough awareness of human nature that allows me be an excellent communicator, and an understanding friend.
A common exclamatory expression in Tagalog, "Ay Nako!" is the equivalent "My gosh!". When I first heard the phrase used, confusion struck me; In Spanish, "nako" refers to a hick, so hearing the word in a different context seemed strange. Such oddities of language, do not phase me because I'm used to them. However, for my parents, differences in the meanings of words have always been a source of turmoil. I remember one incident in particular, when my dad, who is German-American, called my mom stupid, and told her to shut up because she was rambling about something. He did not use the words with a derogatory tone, but, upset, my mother shouted at him, deeply offended. He yelled back that she was getting angry over nothing, while my sister and I hid in my room, frightened, so we would not have to hear our parents fighting. Looking back, I see that what caused disagreements like this one was not my mother's sensitivity. Rather, the cultural difference in the meaning of my father's words triggered their argument. The word stupid, in Spanish, is considered extremely derogatory and unkind, but in English it is used very liberally to describe an action that makes no sense. Likewise, the phrase "Shut up" is derogatory in Spanish, but we use it as a inconsequential retort. Because I am aware of these particularities, I frequently act as an interpreter for my parents. Also, I know the importance of word choice when it comes to addressing people of different backgrounds, which makes me a precise, and sensitive communicator.
Along with my knowledge of cultural values through language, my bi-culturality has also given me a sense of class awareness. Because Nicaraguan immigrants compose half my family, I am very familiar with the odd jobs immigrants must take, and the difficulties Hispanic people face. When I told my parents I wanted to take voice lessons, they told me that if I wanted a decent teacher, my mother would have to clean a few houses every week to pay for the lessons. Since the money went towards me, I decided to help my mom with housekeeping whenever possible. By helping clean houses with my mother, I learned that the people we see as insignificant, and often look down upon in society, are very important. If a city's schoolteacher's disappeared for a month the city would be just fine. However, if the maintenance workers disappeared for a month, the city would be paralyzed. Although these jobs lack prestige, they are the stomach or neck of society. Also, on my Hispanic side, there are many young people with what you might call stereotypical dilemmas among Hispanic Americans. Two of my cousins are teen mothers, one cousin is the victim of domestic violence, another has substance abuse problems, and no one on that side of my family has gone to college . My experience caring for and encouraging people normally looked down upon makes me a compassionate person. Rather than judge people who live in these situations, I sympathize with them, and give them words of encouragement to overcome these hurdles.
Growing up a blend of cultures, I have become an understanding person and a cautious communicator. Exposure to these cultures has highlighted the similarities, rather than the differences among ethnic groups; human nature. I am not limited to merely knowing what makes Hispanic people tick, or what appeals to white America. Instead, I know what these groups have in common; the desire to love, to be loved, to laugh, and to be happy.
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