Laisha Estevez

Engl 110

Gabrielle Alcala 

02-26-2024

Cover Letter

As I was writing this literacy narrative I was keeping in mind something similar that I had done for a previous class. I had no idea what to write my paper about so I decided that it would be a good idea if I re-wrote my other paper using a different perspective. As I thought of this I quickly realized that I had something better to write. Something that didn’t sound as boring and wasn’t so dry and so I get it I’m in school but please shut up and leave. So I decided to write about my roots and practically trauma dumped on the paper. It may not seem that way but if you look closely like reeally closely you can tell. But what I call trauma dump others might call A written masterpiece. HA sike nobody said that I’m just really proud of this paper. I decided to go all out. I wrote my feelings, thoughts, and prayers (there is no praying part I just liked how that sounded) practically poured myself onto this paper, and wrote it in a way that even if we might not be in the same situation other people can relate to me. 

As I was writing this I realized how much language can either help you or be your downfall. If you don’t know a language properly you might be seen as an outsider, an illiterate, or just different than everybody else like you are less than that person or they are above you. But if let’s say you are from a different place, or country and you are in the United States and know perfect English how to speak it and how to write it and have a perfect accent, you are seen from an almost completely different perspective. This brings me back to Trevor Noahs the Chameleon when he writes about how when he was about to get robbed he turned around and spoke to the men who were about to cause him harm just because he looked “like a white man”, when he spoke to them and they said sorry and let him walk away I found that this was a powerful moment because he didn’t need anything else other than his words which in a way could have saved his life.

Something that was challenging about I found challenging when writing this essay was that as I was writing I kept going from beginning to end to middle to back to the end. Even though it all turned out better than I expected I initially struggled to keep my thoughts and writing in order and as I was writing what I perceived as jokes I kept having to make changes to my writing so that it went along with everything else and didn’t make the whole thing sound weird. 

Initially, I had no idea how I wanted this essay to go, how I would write it, or what I would even write it about. With all my other essays or papers that I’ve had to write its always been all dry and boring unlike other people who either incorporate jokes or moments that make people laugh or just the regular smarty pants who use big words and everybody is just like wooow while picking their jaws up from the floor. But as I was writing this one I started adding humor and changing languages and adding jokes in a different language which in the end made the whole thing sound so much better made it more engaging and just better looking in general which surprised me because I hadn’t done this before and this made me feel like id been doing this forever.

In reality, there really isn’t a big difference between my first and final draft. Except for the part where everything is actually in order. The only noticeable difference is that I added a few new situations, and a few new feelings and I switched some things around. But in general it just all sounds the same, same tone, the same jokes, and the same language. 

All in all im really proud of how this paper ended up. When I submitted it I thought It would just be every other boring day at the office (in school), I would get a grade for it and i would go about my day. But as I kept submitting different parts I noticed that the reader (my professor) actually liked it and gave actual helpful reasons and feedback not just the regular “oh yeah this is good, good job). She even pointed out how I had kept my intended audience in mind the whole time (which I’ll let you in on a lil secret I didn’t even think about the intended audience until it was pointed out to me which I probably shouldnt be openly stating) so I guess thats another thing that came in naturally the tryinng to connect with a certain audience. But I really am proud of this and am hoping that my future papers sound like this one or are at least similar to this one. Now on to the story…

Navigating Identity 

When I was a little girl I would have never thought that I would have ended up where I am now. I am originally Dominican but I grew up in the United States. So, some will say I’m Dominican-American, others say I’m American and the other half say I’m Dominican. Which is a “quiniento ma” as my cousin taught me to say. When I first moved to the United States all I spoke was Spanish. I didn’t know anything besides that. I lived in a white part of New Jersey where it was like a rare Pokemon to see other Latinos who actually spoke Spanish. 

I went to an all-white school where I was lucky enough to be put in a class with not one but two rare Pokemons (Spanish-speaking people). This made things easy enough for me to be able to understand certain things but the language barrier was like the great wall of China separating me from everybody else. It was hard for me to learn English mostly because it was all every teacher, every parent, every kid, and probably even pets knew. I never thought that something could be as frustrating as not being able to communicate even the easiest of things to others. But even with all these challenges, I managed to learn enough in a year to a point where it sounded like I’d been born in the country. I was happy I knew the language, I knew the culture, I knew what to do, what not to do, and life was happy or so I thought it was.

 About a year or two later I was still living in NJ and nothing had changed, it was still English everywhere and I only spoke Spanish at home. I never really cared to exercise my Spanish speaking abilities because there was no way in the world that I would forget my own native language right? The language I was basically born with you know, the only thing that I’d known for 8 years. Yeah, no. That was gone with the wind and I didn’t realize that until I went back to the Dominican Republic after so many years and tried having an actual conversation with somebody not just “vas a comer” or “ven a ca” I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t even say the simplest things. To this day I have problems saying brown in spanish (its marron btw) I was once again confused, frustrated, and embarrassed. The first thing that I was told was “yo espero que ustedes no vuelvan y no sepan lo que es un perro” Even though this was said as a joke when I thought back to that moment I realized that it indeed in fact had happened to me. It was an exaggerated way of saying you better not forget where you came from, and that’s exactly what I had done. I was and still kind of am scared to admit the fact that my spanish speaking abilities aren’t as sharp as they should be. It hurts having other people tell you that you’re “una vende patria” or that “tu no eres Dominicana” because every time I hear that I feel like it rips a part of me, almost like taking my air away. 

I realized I needed to get my stuff together when I became a master of changing topics. Its like I would start talking about shoes with somebody and we would end up talking about how rocket ships are built because every time they would say something and I couldn’t figure out how to answer I’d either not respond, laugh and then say something that was completely different. At other times, I’d say something really low and hope they understood something else and thought I’d answered their question. To my surprise, it worked better than what I and most of you would have expected. Or the people I was speaking to really didn’t care. Could be any, Could be both, but who knows? 

I’m not going to lie, being Dominican is one of my best accomplishments (I don’t have many) and technically it’s not even an accomplishment. I love being Dominican. I don’t deny it – never have, never will. The main reason I’m so fixated on perfecting my Spanish is because I feel like without it I’m nothing. Like I don’t belong anywhere because it’s the only thing that connects me to my culture. I can’t dance like they do. Except the good ol bachata y merengue. I don’t speak their version of Spanish like they do. I don’t know their history or anything of the sort. And most of all, I’m so glad the people that know me aren’t here to hear this. I forgot their pledge of allegiance. But technically, so did my sister and my mom, so if anything, I’m not alone. 

By blood I’m Dominican but I feel like I’m barely holding on by a thread. And I know I’m not the only one who feels like this. May not be in the same way but I know that other people want to feel more connected with their birthplace. Naturally, as human beings, it is in our nature to want to have a sense of belonging. To have something that reminds us that we belong somewhere and even if we are told that we are from a different place we can fall back and get comfortable in the fact that they can’t take our place of origin from us. No matter where you are, no matter where you’re from it doesn’t matter who it is, they will never be able to take that from you.

Anyways to keep the story rolling to this day I still use Google Translate religiously like I’m a tourist in some foreign country. But at least now, I realize that it’s okay. Because even if my speaking abilities aren’t the best, it’s not my fault. English is mostly all I’ve known for the past ten years and I think I’ve earned a pass given the fact that I’ve lived here for far longer than I did in DR. Of course, I’m trying and will never stop trying to get back to the level of Spanish that I used to know. But now I’m taking my time, always remembering that the world keeps spinning, it’s not the end and it’s not my fault. I’m starting to accept the fact that I’m considered a “gringuita” and often say it myself because at the end of the day, there’s nothing wrong with that but at the same time, everything is wrong with that. But you know it’s really funny because lately, my English has been sounding a lot like my spanish like a hot pile of not-good things. Whenever I try having actual conversations with let’s say professors or people I have to sound smart with all of a sudden my accent comes out and I feel like I’m learning to speak the language all over again. I start stumbling upon my words and overusing “uhh” and “umm” like I just got caught in a lie. So yeah, life has a way of being reeal funny. *__* She thinks she’s just hilarious.