Why go against the grain?
For years, I wanted to be taken seriously for my Spanish skills. Until...
I’d studied the grammar, the literature, the culture, even ethnography (the science of observing by integrating into a group). I’d lived and worked in Spain, then Mexico.
So, I wanted people to see that I wasn’t just playing at bilingualism—I’d put in the time.
But validation is a slippery thing.
I remember someone debating with me whether there should be an accent on qué in a sentence. This is one of the hardest rules to master in Spanish grammar, and I’d spent years learning it. Yet here I was, gently trying to explain to a native speaker that yes, actually, I was right… and of course, it doesn’t matter who’s right. This is a no-win situation.
“Well, that’s just not how we say it,” they’ll argue. I don’t have the passport to back me up so, no matter how many books I’ve studied, I can’t belong in that conversation the way I’d like.
A few years ago, I was working in roles where Spanish was my main tool—like when was the Latin America copywriter for WeWork. I thought: this is it, the ultimate proof. Would an enormous brand choose someone who’s no good at Spanish to write their publicity for the whole Spanish-speaking continent? “Of course not”! I thought.
But I started to realise something.
Is it worth it?
Even if I won the jobs, I wasn’t really winning the battle. Nitpicking is not unique to Mexicans, it’s a universal language. We all love to edit text to our personal taste. And most of the time, we’re not wrong… we’re just different.
Over the years, my uphill battle got old. I stopped trying to show my Spanish was perfect. I stopped needing to impress anyone with precision. I make up words when I need to. I say things the “wrong” way if I find it cuter or funnier. I enjoy the mess of it.
And honestly, I wish Spanish had more words—like entitled, or all those great little rain words in English: drizzle, pouring, spotting. Or verbs like stride, stagger, stumble, wander. So instead of trying to be precise with my Spanish language, I just note [out loud] that there isn’t a word for this type of thought, wondering, and say it in English. I’m blessed to have many friends with advanced English anyway.
So instead of grinding against the grain, I’m softer. Today, knowing I’m bilingual is enough, regardless of what a handful of nitpickers think.
And when the word’s missing? Just make one up.
What words are missing in other languages you speak?
@Nadine , I am also bilingual. I came across this post because of a restack from Neela (thank you @Neela 🌶️ !). The rest of my reply will be in Spanish, naturalmente:)
El verdadero lenguaje del corazón no conoce fronteras ni se rige por reglas estrictas. No importa si hablamos español, inglés o cualquier otro idioma; lo que realmente trasciende es aquello que toca el alma.
Las palabras son simplemente vehículos para transportar sentimientos, y a veces, el acento que falta o la estructura imperfecta no son obstáculos sino características únicas de nuestra expresión más íntima.
Como el agua que fluye entre piedras, nuestras emociones encuentran siempre su camino, adaptándose al cauce pero manteniendo su esencia. Lo importante no es la perfección técnica sino la autenticidad con la que nos comunicamos.
El lenguaje universal del entendimiento reside en la mirada sincera, en el suspiro profundo, en la sonrisa espontánea. Estos símbolos atraviesan culturas y épocas, recordándonos que antes de las palabras ya existía la comunicación.
Cuando el corazón habla, el mundo entero escucha, pues su voz resuena en el silencio entre las palabras, en ese espacio donde habita lo inefable pero perfectamente comprensible.
This reminds me of trying to explain Caribbean dialect to people who think English is not our first language lol
I'm like, hello - our education system mirrors that of the UK.
I think making up words, using the “wrong” phrasing, even code switching mid-sentence, are all acts of fluency, too.
Happy Saturday, Nadine.