Many of us who grew up in homes where English wasn’t the main language know this feeling well: we can understand the language just fine, but freeze up when someone asks, “Do you speak Spanish?” or the dreaded, “Are you fluent?” 😬

That discomfort? It’s because heritage speakers (those of us who learned languages other than English at home) are held to expectations that monolinguals simply aren’t.

When I say I speak a language or that I’m fluent, people assume I can do everything I do in English—in Spanish, Japanese, Arabic, you name it. So, to dodge those assumptions, we often downplay it: “I understand it, but I don’t speak it.”

When someone asks if we’re bilingual, we hesitate. Not because we aren’t—but because we know they might challenge our ability, and that’s just… exhausting.

But here’s the thing: language isn’t all-or-nothing.

Let’s be real—there are limits to your dominant language too, right? You probably don’t feel bad that you can’t explain quantum physics or identify every species of bird in English. Why? Because you’ve never learned it—and probably don’t want to! 🐦🔬

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 others’ expectations, even though growing up in a bilingual (or multilingual) environment means we’ve been code-switching and balancing languages our whole lives. That’s not easy.

Historically, many families had to give up their home language just to survive. Some were punished—physically, emotionally, or academically—for speaking it. Others were warned by educators and even speech pathologists not to “confuse” their kids with two languages (which science has debunked, by the way—over and over again).

More subtly, when we don’t have an intentional plan to practice our home language, it slowly gets drowned out. English takes over—because it’s 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 here’s your joyful, language-loving reminder: understanding the language is an incredible accomplishment. That’s called receptive bilingualism—you may not speak it (yet), but you understand it when you hear it. And that’s powerful.

Not everyone can do that! But many of us grew up soaking in a language spoken by our family or community. That’s a gift. And it deserves recognition.

So instead of saying, “I don’t really speak it,” try:
✨ “I’m a receptive bilingual—I understand and connect deeply with the language. And I’m building from there.”

You don’t need to know all the vocabulary, every accent, or every grammatical rule to own your bilingual identity.

Language comes in four modes:

1. Speaking
2. Writing
3. Reading
4. Listening

The last two? They’re 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. 🧠💬💛

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🤟🏼Dr. Xiomara Rivera Pagán