Many of us who grew up in homes where English wasnât the main language know this feeling well: we can understand the language just fine, but freeze up when someone asks, âDo you speak Spanish?â or the dreaded, âAre you fluent?â đŹ
That discomfort? Itâs because heritage speakers (those of us who learned languages other than English at home) are held to expectations that monolinguals simply arenât.
When I say I speak a language or that Iâm fluent, people assume I can do everything I do in Englishâin Spanish, Japanese, Arabic, you name it. So, to dodge those assumptions, we often downplay it: âI understand it, but I donât speak it.â
When someone asks if weâre bilingual, we hesitate. Not because we arenâtâbut because we know they might challenge our ability, and thatâs just⌠exhausting.
But hereâs the thing: language isnât all-or-nothing.
Letâs be realâthere are limits to your dominant language too, right? You probably donât feel bad that you canât explain quantum physics or identify every species of bird in English. Why? Because youâve never learned itâand probably donât want to! đŚđŹ
So, of course there are limits to your home or heritage language. But instead of indifference, we often feel shame or frustration. We carry the weight of othersâ expectations, even though growing up in a bilingual (or multilingual) environment means weâve been code-switching and balancing languages our whole lives. Thatâs not easy.
Historically, many families had to give up their home language just to survive. Some were punishedâphysically, emotionally, or academicallyâfor speaking it. Others were warned by educators and even speech pathologists not to âconfuseâ their kids with two languages (which science has debunked, by the wayâover and over again).
More subtly, when we donât have an intentional plan to practice our home language, it slowly gets drowned out. English takes overâbecause itâs everywhere. What we read, hear, and speak every day becomes our default. And without realizing it, the language of our culture and connection starts to fade.
But hereâs your joyful, language-loving reminder: understanding the language is an incredible accomplishment. Thatâs called receptive bilingualismâyou may not speak it (yet), but you understand it when you hear it. And thatâs powerful.
Not everyone can do that! But many of us grew up soaking in a language spoken by our family or community. Thatâs a gift. And it deserves recognition.
So instead of saying, âI donât really speak it,â try: ⨠âIâm a receptive bilingualâI understand and connect deeply with the language. And Iâm building from there.â
You donât need to know all the vocabulary, every accent, or every grammatical rule to own your bilingual identity.
Language comes in four modes:
Speaking
Writing
Reading
Listening
The last two? Theyâre receptive. They count. And they matter.
So if you feel unsure about calling yourself bilingual, start with what you do know. Practice from there. Own your superpower.
The rest will come. đ§ đŹđ
To subscribe for free, click here and receive new posts and info about upcoming events.
For events that support your receptive and productive bilingualism in Spanish check out the events page here.
đ¤đźDr. Xiomara Rivera PagĂĄn
Warmly, Dra. Rivera PagĂĄn
P.S. If you would like to share your experiences with language policies, comment on this blog post