Marie Pablo / El Salvador
When i was asked to share my story by Jasmine, i knew it would be something that i’d have to give my all to to show respect to all my ancestors who came before me.
Ever since i was little, it was eggs, beans and tortillas at my house for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No questions asked. I never asked why or complained because it was with that food that my family bonded and indulged in the stories of my father, my abuelita and my tios life in El Salvador. When i had asked my abuela to help me with this, she told me with prideful eyes she always knew in her heart i was the grandchild who took interest in my culture the most and showed that i was always interested in hearing more stories and cultural differences between my father and mothers lives.
My mom was born here in California with a small yet complicated family who lived in a sunny suburban area with cats and dogs and my father was born in a very small pueblito right next to San Pedro in El Salvador with 5 brothers and sisters who lived in a small house they shared with open hearts. Two very different lives that collided because of the tragic fate of a country who only wanted equality but led to a civil war. My abuelita always shied away from the story of why they came to america and what it took to get here but i never blamed her or pushed for answers considering what little i had been told.
Unfortunately, I’ve never had the opportunity to meet my grandfather on my father's side do to the fact he was killed in the war for being such a huge influence in the fight of equality for the rich and the poor. My dad told me that he was of such high interest to the Salvadoran military, that he’d come every second Tuesday of the month in the very middle of the night to visit his family for only a short amount of time before going into hiding to continue to fight for his cause. The reason behind him finally being found? His daughter Leticia Pablo had been murdered while on a journey to carry a message to a fellow pueblo about advances in the war. My name is Marie Leticia Pablo and everyday i hope i have HALF of the courage my Tia had in El Salvador before her life as taken from her.
All this tragedy led my abuela to flee the country with five kids by herself with nothing but only enough money to get them across the border. And the rest is history.
I was told to speak of the struggles I’ve had about my identity and trust and believe, I’ve had many. When i was in the eighth grade in middle school, i was asked if i wanted to take an ‘Intro to Spanish’ class which i denied with pride, as i felt i had knew everything i needed to know already. After my friends had shared what they had been learning, i remember the exact moment i knew i needed to educate myself more and indulge in my culture more.
Freshman year in high school i finally took a Spanish 1 class and was shocked by how much i had yet to learn, and that right then was when I had trouble understanding my identity. Was i even Latina? I didn’t even know half of the things we learned on the first day and I was heartbroken. I never second guessed it when i told people i was Salvadoran or Latina but after only a few weeks of the intro to Spanish class, i had second guessed everything. My older sister had never taken Spanish in her high school career and my brother was only in middle school but we had done just fine in communicating with my abuela from what i understood…. I guess not.
My family had always spoken Spanglish or ‘slang’ Spanish that wasn’t taught in school so i always felt so behind or even shameful knowing my own father had been born in a foreign country and i didn’t even know the formal saying of “Hello, how are you today?”. I felt although I was making my abuelita sad.
There is nothing more in this world i want then to make my grandmother who risked everything to be in america with her family proud. I needed to come to terms with my culture and my identity as a Latina and the only way i could do that was invest my heart and time into the subject of Spanish and south american cultures. I personally think this is definitely something that second generation children face at some point in their life. We all want to belong to something and be able to identify with a race and culture that makes us feel prideful and boastful. I wanted more than anything to be able to boast about being Latin, speak fluent Spanish and also be educated on everything i could get my hands on about my culture. For the sake of communicating with my family properly.
I’ve fought myself for a long time on whether or not i have the right to be boastful and call myself Latina, but after four years in high school of studying Spanish with all my hard and being in a AP Spanish class where i speak Spanish non-stop with little trouble for an hour at times, i finally feel confident in my identity. I’m a Latina, and i had to work for it a bit to fully understand and take advantage of my culture, but i couldn’t be more proud of where i am now and where i will be in the future with the advantages of being bilingual and educated.
Ever since i was little, it was eggs, beans and tortillas at my house for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No questions asked. I never asked why or complained because it was with that food that my family bonded and indulged in the stories of my father, my abuelita and my tios life in El Salvador. When i had asked my abuela to help me with this, she told me with prideful eyes she always knew in her heart i was the grandchild who took interest in my culture the most and showed that i was always interested in hearing more stories and cultural differences between my father and mothers lives.
My mom was born here in California with a small yet complicated family who lived in a sunny suburban area with cats and dogs and my father was born in a very small pueblito right next to San Pedro in El Salvador with 5 brothers and sisters who lived in a small house they shared with open hearts. Two very different lives that collided because of the tragic fate of a country who only wanted equality but led to a civil war. My abuelita always shied away from the story of why they came to america and what it took to get here but i never blamed her or pushed for answers considering what little i had been told.
Unfortunately, I’ve never had the opportunity to meet my grandfather on my father's side do to the fact he was killed in the war for being such a huge influence in the fight of equality for the rich and the poor. My dad told me that he was of such high interest to the Salvadoran military, that he’d come every second Tuesday of the month in the very middle of the night to visit his family for only a short amount of time before going into hiding to continue to fight for his cause. The reason behind him finally being found? His daughter Leticia Pablo had been murdered while on a journey to carry a message to a fellow pueblo about advances in the war. My name is Marie Leticia Pablo and everyday i hope i have HALF of the courage my Tia had in El Salvador before her life as taken from her.
All this tragedy led my abuela to flee the country with five kids by herself with nothing but only enough money to get them across the border. And the rest is history.
I was told to speak of the struggles I’ve had about my identity and trust and believe, I’ve had many. When i was in the eighth grade in middle school, i was asked if i wanted to take an ‘Intro to Spanish’ class which i denied with pride, as i felt i had knew everything i needed to know already. After my friends had shared what they had been learning, i remember the exact moment i knew i needed to educate myself more and indulge in my culture more.
Freshman year in high school i finally took a Spanish 1 class and was shocked by how much i had yet to learn, and that right then was when I had trouble understanding my identity. Was i even Latina? I didn’t even know half of the things we learned on the first day and I was heartbroken. I never second guessed it when i told people i was Salvadoran or Latina but after only a few weeks of the intro to Spanish class, i had second guessed everything. My older sister had never taken Spanish in her high school career and my brother was only in middle school but we had done just fine in communicating with my abuela from what i understood…. I guess not.
My family had always spoken Spanglish or ‘slang’ Spanish that wasn’t taught in school so i always felt so behind or even shameful knowing my own father had been born in a foreign country and i didn’t even know the formal saying of “Hello, how are you today?”. I felt although I was making my abuelita sad.
There is nothing more in this world i want then to make my grandmother who risked everything to be in america with her family proud. I needed to come to terms with my culture and my identity as a Latina and the only way i could do that was invest my heart and time into the subject of Spanish and south american cultures. I personally think this is definitely something that second generation children face at some point in their life. We all want to belong to something and be able to identify with a race and culture that makes us feel prideful and boastful. I wanted more than anything to be able to boast about being Latin, speak fluent Spanish and also be educated on everything i could get my hands on about my culture. For the sake of communicating with my family properly.
I’ve fought myself for a long time on whether or not i have the right to be boastful and call myself Latina, but after four years in high school of studying Spanish with all my hard and being in a AP Spanish class where i speak Spanish non-stop with little trouble for an hour at times, i finally feel confident in my identity. I’m a Latina, and i had to work for it a bit to fully understand and take advantage of my culture, but i couldn’t be more proud of where i am now and where i will be in the future with the advantages of being bilingual and educated.