As a first-generation college student, I always occupy spaces and institutions that no one else in my family has had to learn how to navigate before. This is a fact that makes me stand out both when I’m in school in the city and when I return home in the Bronx. Even though I now understand the experiences of being a student in a private university and of living in a low-income neighborhood, I feel as though I do not quite belong in either one of these spaces. This is also the way I feel about being treated differently in my home country, the Dominican Republic, because I live in the United States; however, I know that Americans, and even the sons and daughters of immigrants, will never view me as “fully American.” Although this feels more personal to me than something that is just part of the immigrant experience, my time in Madrid so far has allowed me to think about this experience in a different light.
Because I had to learn to speak English and not Castellano, I never attempted to change my Dominican accent in Spanish. I never really felt the need to completely assimilate to American culture or to make my Spanish more “presentable.” Moreover, immigrant populations in New York City tend to create close knit communities where their cultures are celebrated and ties to their home countries are maintained. Even though every immigrant has to assimilate to a certain extent, immigrants in the US still have the freedom to decide which cultural practices to follow. However, Hispanic immigrants in Madrid, or the few immigrants I have met so far, seem not to think of assimilation as such a harmful thing to their cultural identities. Instead, many quickly adapt to the Spanish accent because “I found that people didn’t get my Spanish” or “you have to get accustomed to the country you move to, that’s just how it is.” I personally find this somewhat problematic because it follows the same colonial narrative where European standards are placed on a pedestal while everyone else is just “the other.” This is especially true for Dominican Spanish since our Spanish is like the African American Vernacular English (AAVE). Many Latin American countries do not recognize the Dominican Republic as being legitimately part of Latin America because of this. Moreover, this Eurocentric notion of a “better Spanish” is rooted in anti-blackness because many Dominicans are Afro-Latinos and Dominican Spanish slang terms are African inflected. This articulation of my background is barely ever considered by other Latinos so it follows that I’m extremely conscious of the spaces I occupy and the kind of language I use when I’m surrounded by people who may completely disregard this articulation. This consciousness has been somewhat heightened for me in Madrid but I have my organization as a safe space to be myself and, most importantly, to ask other Latin Americans about their cultural experiences in Spain.
Additionally, another way in which I may be viewed as an outlier, especially when I travel, is being a Hispanic woman whose purpose for traveling is not to find work. I feel as though living in Europe for research is a white privilege that my Latino high school classmates could only dream of achieving. I’m aware that my face is not the first one people think of when they are told about “a young researcher from New York City.” However, I hope that by doing this kind of work, I can fight this view of who Latinos are and what we are capable of. Many of the women in Servicio Activo Domestico (SEDOAC) have master’s and PhD degrees and some have even been the face of important social justice organizations in their home countries. Therefore, it is also essential to challenge the binary that immigrant women are either professionals or low wage workers. Instead, we have to think about the implications of being an immigrant and what kinds of economic and career advancement opportunities, if any, exist in the foreign countries immigrants attempt to make their new homes.
