How her voice shaped mine—in two languages.
As Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself reflecting on my mother’s language journey—one that is very different from mine.
My mother, born and raised in Comerío, Puerto Rico, came to the United States as an adult. Is there anything that demands more vulnerability than leaving your home country after establishing your independence, only to start from scratch in a new, unfamiliar language? I don’t think so.
She has plenty of comical stories about the language mishaps she’s encountered—moments born from literal translations and situational misunderstandings. One of my favorites is the time she was hosting a rehearsal at our house on a military base. When the security guard asked what was going on, she confidently told him, “I’m hosting a harassment.” 😳 Noticing his reaction, she sensed something was off. Later, she asked my dad (the more proficient English speaker at the time) what “harassment” meant. His response? “What did you do?” (Mami, si estás leyendo esto—sorry, had to do it. #anythinginhumor)
(La madre que me parió, Albita Enid Rivera Pagán)
It’s thanks to my mom’s humor and grace that she’s been able to navigate spaces where people too often judge based on language proficiency and accent. For every funny story, there’s another where someone was rude—or even hateful—because of her accented English.
I’ll never forget the incident at a Target in Howard County, Maryland—one of the more diverse places we lived—where a man berated my mom for how she spoke. I was so furious that, to this day, I mentally prepare for that kind of showdown, ready to defend her, myself, or anyone else who dares to speak a language other than English in public.
What infuriates me most is that her accent—her beautiful Puerto Rican-accented English—is something I deeply admire and even long for. It signals who she is: a proud Puerto Rican woman. It’s a part of her identity that I cherish and even sometimes envy.
Yes, the grass is always greener, but I know this: anyone who takes the risk to speak in a language that isn’t their dominant one does so with vulnerability and immense courage. I’ve watched my mom grow her fluency in English, working hard to reflect her creative and critical thinking mind as clearly in English as she does in Spanish. The care and power she puts behind her words in both languages is something I continue to aspire to.
Over time, her accent has softened. But when it comes through, I find it so beautiful. Her language abilities leave me in awe, not just because of the skill they require, but because of the bravery behind them. She didn’t just learn a new language—she built a life in it. And not just a life, but a legacy. Today, she leads social justice efforts advocating for the “global majority” (a term she taught me) to have access to the arts right here in Maryland.
If I dare to take language risks, it’s only because she showed me how.
Mami, I love you. Estoy y siempre estaré orgullosa de ti. ❤️
What language lessons have you learned from your maternal figures?
🤟🏼Dr. Xiomara Rivera Pagán
