Category Archives: Uncategorized

Feb3

A glimpse into my academic life…..

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A glimpse into my academic life…..

This semester I am learning about language policy and discourse analysis. I am utterly reading pages and pages of material that are of utmost interest to me. I feel as if I have found my niche…or as I explained recently to a friend how my desire to become an anthropologist when I was a child is finally coming true. I am not becoming an anthropologist, but I am using research methods grounded in anthropology to study/research the way people use language. So below I offer a glimpse of how my thinking about language is evolving as I read pages and pages of salivating information about discourse analysis and language policy. Enjoy!

When speaking, researching, studying language-in-use it is impossible to leave out the political, economic, and social factors that influence language because language is a social construct. Yes, from a Chomskyan point of view all languages are inherently equal when it comes to structure and how they are acquired, BUT what is different is how the perception of each language is constructed as a result of political, economical, even religious factors SO how do we study or speak about language-in-use without considering our subjective views as they are influenced by our social, economical, and political ties. Is it in how we frame our research question and/or in how we analyze the data?

Nov27

A window to my past…

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A window to my past…

A few weekends ago my abuelita was in town. I hadn’t seen her in a long while because I have been overwhelmed with my studies and, quite frankly, it’s difficult to travel with my one year old daughter.

We spent the day together. We spent the day cooking, talking, and enjoying each others company…..well, actually, me regañó to the max degree! She scolded me, she nagged me about how undomesticated I am and how little I value the extended family I have in my life, and then she broke out into tears….se le salieron las lagrimas ;(

She reminded me that she grew up with no one. Literally. She was an orphan in Jalisco, Mexico about 60+ years ago. Her older sister went to look for her when she old enough and they lived together for many years. My abuelita reminded me that she had to teach herself everything she knows about life, which included what I lacked, cooking skills to start.

As I was washing dishes she reminded me that, though, I am too busy pursuing a doctoral degree, and she only reached a second grade education, that she is much more educated.

Let me pause…..

I know it seems that I am portraying my abuelita in a negative light, but what I am actually trying to show is a window to my past. Our day together was pleasant. The stories she shared with me and the thoughts about how I am living my life came out of concern and are rooted in the pain she has felt in hers. She was trying to pass down some consejos to me and that is something I can appreciate. The whole day I felt like she was trying to share as much as possible with me about what life has taught her, while at the same time, I know that part of her rambling is due to old age, but still. The woman had something to say.

This post is a perfect example as to why I want my bebita to learn Spanish. Many times when I try to share something, the words that most poignantly describe the thought, story, or sentiment of what I am trying to say are in Spanish.

That particular afternoon, with my Abuelita Cata, could not have been lived had I not known Spanish.

Nov10

Out on a limb…..

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Out on a limb…..

I am writing this post because, lately, I have had a heavy heart. I experienced something that can be a very taboo topic to discuss. I lost a baby and depending on your views you may or may not agree that what I was carrying was even the beginning of life. The journey I have had in life leads me to believe that it was…

The reason I am writing this post is because I believe women should come together and openly discuss the emotional, physical, and psychological underpinnings that exist when a woman suffers a miscarriage.

There are parts of my life experiences that have resurfaced, as a result of having a miscarriage, like, the memory of losing my dad at a young age.

There are parts of my philosophical views about what constitutes the beginning of life that have only been strengthened. I don’t ever remember debating that human life begins at conception and this experience only makes it more concrete.

I know I am putting myself out on a limb with this post, but I think there’s value in shedding light on a topic that is usually left unspoken.

Nov8

The Bilingual Connection in Texas(Tejas)

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The Bilingual Connection in Texas(Tejas)

The other day I was speaking in Spanish, like I always do with my daughter, and in English, like I always do with my sister. Somewhere between talking to my sister about her studying for the GRE while at the same time chasing my baby girl around the room, I ended up blurting out to my sister, “Toma your pencil.” After I had grabbed it from my 17 month old as she attempted to put it in her mouth, which is nothing out of the ordinary. This is how she explores her world. Apparently, this is how my bilingual world connects, sometimes. They meet in the middle of a sentence. It should really be no surprise that so many people in Texas code-switch, blend Spanish and English, sometimes making a new word using the 2 languages.

This is the bilingual connection. This is Texas!

Nov3

25 Years without my Father….

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25 Years without my Father….

This coming year, 2012, marks the 25th year of my fathers passing. Interestingly, it is also the year I turn 36, the same age he was when he died.

I want to write a post that can highlight the difference his passing has made in my life. I was only 11 years old when he left. For many years I would view his passing as the time away he had spent from me, my two sisters and my mom. For the longest time I would count how many objects, whether they were tangible things or the people in our life, that were also around when he was alive. And although the things, and unfortunately, the people dwindled in numbers as the years past, his absence was never forgotten.

They say the way someone dies is a crucial factor in understanding the way people mourn a loss. They also say that the hardest losses to endure are those of first and foremost a child, then a parent, and lastly a spouse. Well, in my fathers case and because he was so young, we, as a family mourned heavily as he was a young father, son, and husband.

As the years pass, I think I will always feel like a part of me aches and like a part of me will always feel like I am missing something…someone. The times in my life that have been the hardest living without my father for so long have always been pivotal moments in my life, like: graduating from high school and college, getting married, and most recently having a baby.

During these past 25 years, he has missed a lot, a lot I think he would be proud of, but the truth is…he has still spent a lot of time away from us. About once a year I dream that he and I are sitting in front of each other. I am trying to catch him up on every little detail about my life and my sisters lives, and although it is nice to think that through dreams those who have passed away may be the way they communicate with those of us who are still living, the time we lost can be hard to compromise….

As I write and reread this post I realize that there is probably not enough space to describe how his absence has left a huge impression in my life, so I’ll stop here.

Oct8

Identities aren’t static.

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Identities aren’t static.

My mother is Mexican.
Her mother is Mexican.
Her father was Mexican.
My father was Mexican.
His father was Mexican.
His mother is Mexican.
My bisabuelos on both sides were Mexican.
Their parents were, as far as I know, Mexican.
Mexico is a five hour drive from where I live.
I grew up eating Mexican food.
I grew up hearing and speaking Mexican Spanish.
And even though it all happened on the other side of the border….I still very much identify with being Mexican no matter how you may choose to categorize me!
I am Mexican.
I am American.
I am Chicana.
I am Latina.
Sometimes I am Hispanic.
I am also pocha.
I am mexicana and proud.
These are some of the ways I self-identify.
Identities aren’t static.
They ebb and flow depending on where I stand and to whom I am speaking with.
So please, don’t give me a box to check. It’s not that simple.

Aug26

Who makes it to the rooftop? A perspective of how social class and race play pivotal roles in shared experiences.

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Who makes it to the rooftop? A perspective of how social class and race play pivotal roles in shared experiences.

As I was sipping my delicious peach cream martini from the rooftop of a prominent bar in Manhattan I glanced around and noticed that most people, lucky enough to enjoy this experience, were, or appeared to be, white. It’s truly a small percentage considering the hundreds of people that walk the streets of New York City, not to mention the amount of diversity amongst pedestrians!

There are obvious factors to take into account, such as the possibility that the faces making an appearance on the rooftop are mostly those of tourists, although I think I can still pose the same question.

This thought exactly is one of the reasons why I am pursuing a Ph.D in bilingual education. Analyzing how certain individuals make it, to say a rooftop to enjoy a view and cocktail, seems to have always permeated my mind to the point of frustration, making me wish I could see beyond the “benefits” of race and social class. In other words, sometimes I wish I knew less, questioned and analyzed less. Frankly put, sometimes I wish I could change the way I interpret life…sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Aug6

It Takes a Whole Pueblo to Nurse a Baby!

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It Takes a Whole Pueblo to Nurse a Baby!

Below is a link to my most recent posting with Mother’s Utopia! Saray, an Ecuadorian native, started the website and blog in order to support mother’s who wish to nurse their bebit@s.

What I love about her and the work she does, which includes providing doula services, is that she is also a voice for Latino community!

I hope that you take the time to explore her website and that you enjoy my personal account about nursing my baby girl. Just click on the link below:

It Takes a Whole Pueblo to Nurse a Baby!

Jun22

Quito-bound!

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Quito-bound!

As we approach the day we are taking off to Quito, Ecuador the Spanish is rolling off my tongue like fire. I guess you can say traveling motivates me. In fact, I have been dreaming in Spanish, which NEVER happens unless I’m actually in a Spanish-speaking country and for some time.

We are going to Quito for a cousin’s wedding. It has been six years since the last time, and only time, I set foot in this colorful South American country. It will also be our first time traveling internationally as a family. I am excited, yet a little apprehensive because I know the experience will not compare to the last, nor the numerous trips I have taken abroad with my husband and with girlfriends for that matter. It is a new “epoca” in our life, in my life. From here on out I will carry a new identity as a traveler. One as a mother. There will be new worries, new interests, new adventures to say the least.

I have to remind myself that this is our first trip internationally. We will learn a lot I am sure, but at the same time it will serve as an experience that will only make us more savvy as parents who love to travel. It will only make our future trips easier…I hope. This is something I keep repeating.

To that end, I am requesting tips. Tips about how to make traveling internationally with a one year old easier. And to those of you who are traveling with your family this summer, Bon voyage!