What I have learned about raising multilingual children in the U.S. as a Chicana

I started this journey, this goal of wanting my children to be bilingual by reading books about bilingual parenting. None of the authors looked and sounded like me and none were born and raised in the U.S. like myself. If they were, they usually were not Chicana. My obsession in making sure my children knew Spanish was not because I wanted them to have a global or economic edge. I didn’t even necessarily want them to be “able to speak to more or other people.” I wanted my children to speak Spanish because my parents were asked to not speak it when they first entered public schools in this country. My intent in raising bilingual children was a form of resistance and healing for what my parents and countless of other Mexicano immigrants like my family had endured.

The strategies I read about didn’t quite fit with how I grew up nor who I am as a bilingual. At the same time,  the deeper I delved in my Ph.D. in bilingual education while also  raising my children I realized that U.S. born and raised Mexicanxs/Chicanx communities like myself draw from our own unique sets of bilingual strategies. Some of these include the following:

  1. Speaking Spanish as a form of Resistance! For example, if you notice that others seem a little uncomfortable with your Spanish, then, maybe you speak a little louder in Spanish. This has happened to me countless of times and usually in a grocery line.
  2. Speaking Spanish as a Right: This strategy is similar to the one above, but perhaps you choose to simply keep speaking Spanish despite others being uncomfortable. My Spanish was once corrected (in English) by a cashier at a bakery. I took this as an opportunity to politely remind the cashier that I can speak however I’d like as it is my Spanish. At the same time, I modeled for my daughters (yes, he corrected me in front of my children–society doing its part in bringing Spanish down) how to stand up and protect their Spanish.
  3. When you promote your culture, children are more invested in speaking Spanish: One thing we do every year is set up an alter for the day of the dead. This is a great opportunity to share with my daughters about their ancestors and family who have past (all of them happen to be Mexican).
  4. We NEVER speak badly or make fun of Spanish (or Mandarin, but that’s a different blog post): We treat Spanish like a very special guest in our home who deserves all the respect in the world. We only uplift Spanish and say wonderful things about it because society does a “great” job bringing the language down as it is.
  5. English does not live with us: Sure English makes its presence (similar to a tidal wave actually) but we ask it to leave, we ignore it, and sometimes even though we use it we don’t give it a single ounce of love. It’s just kind of there. Society does a fantastic job boosting its ego so we do not worry about English in the slightest. EVER.
  6. Spanish is love: I am constantly sharing with my daughters how Spanish is our language. I remind them that not all Latinx people speak Spanish, but they are still Latinx. I share that it is part of who we are as Latinx people and that is why I love speaking Spanish with them.
  7. Spanish is who we are: If it is not part of who you are or your family’s past it is very hard, I would argue impossible to pull off. We happen to love music in Spanish from different countries, watch TV and movies in Spanish or from Spanish speaking countries, and  read in Spanish. Our family members and friends know Spanish. All of this helps in children’s investment in  speaking Spanish.
  8. Language Awareness: Just like parents are advised to develop print awareness in  young children, I believe in developing language awareness. I am always sharing with my daughters which friends speak Spanish and make an effort to make sure their doctors speak Spanish as well. I don’t necessarily ask them to speak to them in Spanish, I simply let them know that specific individuals know Spanish so that they can choose to speak it with them or not.  This language awareness has helped in getting my daughter to recognize words in Spanish in society such as actual print media, etc.

This are just a few strategies I have learned about raising 3rd generation bilinguals in a city that mostly speaks English (at least the places and spaces I go to). I’ve also been fortunate enough to be able to send my children to summer camps in Spanish, Spanish immersion daycares, and live in Ecuador. These experiences certainly boosted their investment in speaking Spanish, but I remind people that the actual work in raising them bilingually started in our home. I’ve had people say to me, “Oh, it’s cause you lived abroad and they went to a Spanish immersion school. That’s why they speak Spanish.” Yes, they did and it was a boost, BUT Marcus and I taught them Spanish. This journey started before they were born and we have made a HUGE concerted effort to expose them to our variations of Spanish (as we have different ones).

I have written similar posts in the past (as a form of an update) about our bilingual journey. I love to write (it’s really cathartic) and share our journey in order to inspire other Latinx or Chicanx parents. I have met numerous people from Chicanx or Latinx baungrounds hesitant in their ability to raise  bilingual children and it is for them (para nuestra comunidad) that I continue to share our journey. Si se puede!

Lastly, Spanish was a gift we gave our daughters and one I hope will stay with them for a life time.

 

 

 

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Children’s Book Review: My Papi has a Motorcycle by Isabel Quintero


A CHILDREN’S BOOK THAT HONORS CHICANX STUDENTS CULTURAL AND LINGUISTIC HERITAGE

It was an honor to write a blog post promoting Isabel Quintero’s bookMy Papi Has a Motorcycle, for many reasons, but one of them is because I also grew up in Southern California. The illustrations, Zeke Peña, created resonated with me because they reflected store icons, like the panadería, and murals, like the one about migrant workers marching for justicia, that I grew up seeing in my hometown of Santa Ana, CA. This multicultural and multilingual book, Mi Papi tiene una motocicleta (also available in Spanish) offers readers a description of the rich linguistic and cultural background of a little girl, Daisy Ramona, and her father cruising through their (gentrifying) neighborhood.

The book starts off with Daisy describing her Papí and the kind of construction work he does, but also his love for motorcycles. The misconception that exists in our nation that bilingual and Latinx students “do not have the vocabulary they need to succeed in school” is problematized with Daisy explaining, “From [my Papí] I’ve learned words like carburetor and cariño, drill, and dedication.” Teachers could use this as a way to start a conversation with students about the kind of work their parents do. By inviting parents into the classroom to share about their (cultural) funds of knowledge (Moll, 2005) related to their occupation or their culture teachers validate students backgrounds and place value on the knowledge their parents share with them.

As a scholar and practitioner of bilingual education, this is also an ideal book to talk about gentrification and the implications it can have on communities of color. For example, the closing of the raspados (shaved ice) shop and the construction of new homes are both signs that a neighborhood is changing. Gentrification is the notion that by changing a neighborhood to reflect “White and middle class” norms, it is also perceived as an “improvement” to the existing community. Daisy gives readers a different perspective about her beloved community. The author and the illustrator do a wonderful job portraying what Daisy values about her unique barrio: the people who live there! Educators could also discuss the shops that are reflected in the book such as the tortillería, panadería,and the raspados y carnecería. These are iconic neighborhood stores in traditionally Mexican communities in the U.S. where pan dulce (sweet bread), tortillas, and raspados (shaved ice), and meat are sold.

Teachers could also use this book as an opportunity to invite other languages, like Spanish, into the classroom. Daisy is bilingual and draws from her linguistic repertoire to share about her Latinx friends, family and the community they live in Southern California. In fact, the use of Spanish and English is woven throughout the book in a way that elevates the status of Spanish, which is crucial especially in the U.S. context. Quintero literally placed Spanish above English when translated. Quintero also, at times, leaves out the English translation because it simply is not necessary, or perhaps she wrote the book with bilingual children in mind who do not need translations. Most importantly, Quintero uses Spanish and English in, what I like to think of as the authentic ways individuals from bilingual communities speak. For example, Daisy’s Papí asks a co-worker in Spanish, “Trabajando duro, muchachos?” and the co-worker responds in English, “A little bit, not too much.” They are using different languages, but understand one another and do not need to translate: linguistic brilliance.

I do hope all readers enjoy this book and are able to see it as either mirroring their own community or a window into another community and as an opportunity to learn about people who may be different than themselves. Lastly, my favorite part about this book was that it illustrated people of color doing everyday things in life and just being themselves. Those kind of high quality books about people of color are hard to come by! Isabel and Zeke, thank you for sharing such a beautiful story! I fell in love with it!

For What and for Whom is our Research?

As someone who identifies as an academic that “researches” the very demographic that is currently being attacked at the border, my sense of obligation to #speakup, #standup, and #resist with and for immigrants has never been stronger.

I think Lourdes Ortega’s question (the title of this blog post), For what and for whom is our research?, is really poignant right now. I don’t think I could ethically write, speak, and create research about a certain demographic and not also do the hard work of an activist, advocate, or ally. I don’t even think I do enough as it is. I want to encourage my fellow colleagues (some of whom are really vocal and active as it is when it comes to supporting marginalized communities) to reflect and re-examine what and how we do what we do in academia.

I am taking a risk here by publicaly making this request or assertion because I am what is considered in academia a junior faculty member, but also in a marginalized position as a “visiting” or adjunct professor. We are living during times where these kind of questions/assertions/requests must be asked. I am willing to take that risk. Compared to others, I have very little to lose. #pueblounido #heavyheart #somossemillas #keepfamiliestogether

I’m a Mamá Raising Language Warriors

Language warriors are “… Spanish-dominant bilingual students [who] not only support English-speaking peers’ learning Spanish but also advocate for their marginalized monolingual Spanish-dominant peers. This language warrior role revealed problem solving, mediating skills, and advocacy, but such attributes are rarely recognized by academic assessments” (DeNicolo, 2010, p. 234). Below is a glimpse of MY little language warrior:

A convo between my 7 year-old daughter and I about the upcoming Columbus holiday:

s: Mami, do we celebrate Columbus Day?
Me: Umm, well, it’s a holiday in the US, but I don’t like to celebrate it.
s: Would you rather celebrate the ones that died? The Native Americans?
Me: Of course! (Thinking, umm, how’d you know?)
S: Yeah, that’s what my teacher said, too. I think my whole school is gonna celebrate the Native Americans.

This is just one of many conversations we have about the social injustices people of color have and continue to experience in the U.S., but really it happens all over the world. Sabrina was seeing if her momma agreed with what was said at school about celebrating Native Americans as opposed to a white colonizer, Cristopher Columbus. I don’t think she doubted that I would not agree with her teacher, but I do think she was making sense of a social justice issue that matters especially to a marginalized community, Native Americans. It is conversations like these that I urge parents to have with their children, especially White parents. It is one of the first steps in deconstructing institutional racism.

I also recognize that the “opportunity” to discuss these sensitive and urgent issues also means I am coming from a place of privilege. We are not in fear for our lives. In fact, we live comfortable lives, our “white” skin, or the ability to pass as “white”, and our status in the U.S. protects us. For these reasons (and so many more) I have decided to raise a language warrior, an ally, and an activist. I feel that it is my responsibility as a Latinx mother to pass on this role. I continue to speak to my daughter about the ways her bilingualism is a privilege; one that we have worked so hard to nurture. Initially, we started down this bilingual journey because we our very proud of our Latinx heritage, but now that she is older, I emphasize how important it is to be advocates and allies for our Latinx brothers and sisters which also includes other people of color.

We are still working on what it sounds like and looks like to support English-speaking peers’ learning Spanish and advocate for marginalized monolingual Spanish-dominant peers.  This can be tricky to navigate because my daughter is in a two-way dual language program which has, over time, become more of a boutique  school where many of her peers come from upper middle-class, monolingual, and White backgrounds. In other words, Spanish-dominant peers are few and far between. I worry that she will do more translating to help her peers take on a language so close and dear to who she is as a Latina bilingual rather than having friends that look, sound, breathe, and live bilingual lives every minute of the day and not just during school hours.

 

 

 

 

Please don’t call me “super liberal” Here’s why…

I’m the first to admit that I didn’t start voting until I was 28. I don’t really have a solid reason. I wasn’t anti-politics or making our nation and communities a better place. I could blame it on my parents since they couldn’t vote because they weren’t citizens, but I’m past that. There was definitely a side of me that didn’t feel a sense of conviction when it came to voting. I wasn’t moved to vote. I fit that national statistic that describes Latinxs as not voting. It would be embarrassing–in feminist circles— to say that I started voting because my husband convinced me to go ahead and vote in 2004. Unfortunately, for his sake, we cancelled each others votes and it was in that presidential election where I was forced to ask myself where I stood on the political party lines. Honestly something I had never really considered. Since then I know where I stand on the political spectrum, but I still don’t feel a strong conviction to say “I am Democrat.” Here’s why.

I’m not trying to maintain a privileged status quo. When I advocate for issues that matter to me I am speaking for marginalized communities. More personally, when I advocate for certain basic human rights I am doing so because parts of my identity are being attacked. I am an immigrant. I identify as female. I am Latina and I am bilingual. These aren’t parts of me that sort of just emerged or parts of me that say “I have a right to spend my money this way or speak only this language.” I’m just trying to be me; who I have always been since birth. So when someone says “You’re super liberal or You are so progressive!” a part of me cringes a little. I’m just trying to be me. I’m just trying to advocate for the parts of me which represent large and marginalized communities so that we can continue to have basic human rights. I’m not asking for tax break. I’m not asking to be able to take my kid to some prestigous private school with a voucher. I’m not asking to maintain my status quo. I’m asking to break down the walls that keep parts of my identity (and others who identify the same way) marginalized.

So, please, don’t call me “super liberal.”

I’m just trying to be me.

#chingona #Latinx #immigrant #bilingual

Spanish as a right: We do what we please with our bilingualism!

I have been speaking to my daughters in Spanish since they were in womb. I have made zero accommodations for anyone in the way I choose to navigate our bilingual lives. I have had a range of experiences in which I was asked to simply speak English in public spaces to being asked when I was planning on exposing my daughter’s to English (even though we live in a country where the English-monolingual identity is powerful and influential).

I’ve started to think about what our bilingual world would be like now that an anti-immigrant/English-first (synonymous with America-first) POTUS is in power. Now more than ever (at least for me as a parent/academic raising bilingual children) using Spanish becomes a right, a political statement, a weapon against a hateful rhetoric that essentially put Donald Trump in the position he is now as POTUS. For these reasons alone, I have decided to speak Spanish a little “louder” in public spaces. I started to think about the idea that, we (Latinx’s who speak Spanish) can do what we please to do with our bilingualism.

On another note, it’s not uncommon for Spanish speakers who live abroad to try and make hotel reservations in New York City while planning a vacation. What if an individual abroad happens to only speak Spanish? What if they call Trump Tower (perhaps oblivious or indifferent to the way Trump feels about some Spanish-speaking immigrants) and can only try and make a reservation in Spanish? Would someone be willing or able to help them? What would happen? Would they get hung up on because the receptionist doesn’t speak or understand Spanish? Would the receptionist be so tired of pranks to Trump Tower and threaten to report their phone call to police ALL because they have no idea what the Spanish speaker is saying? Even if it was simply, “Hello, I’d like to make a reservation” in Spanish.

Do we now live in a U.S.A. where speaking Spanish to someone who doesn’t understand Spanish be considered a threat? Is speaking Spanish now liable as a report to the police? What could the police actually do? Would they arrest you on the premise that English is the accepted norm (even though the USA does not have an official language)? What would happen?

Language is a right! We should be able to navigate public spaces in whichever language we see fit! After all, this is how we do being bilingual!

¡Ni un paso atra, hermanxs!  ¡Ser bilingue vale por dos!

#race #whiteprivilege #blacklivesmatter #whitefragility #socialjustice #workingtogether

An [informal] open letter to those offended by hashtags related to #race,

It has been brought to my attention that my posts, comments, and ideas about #race offend people. Let me be clear about something. These posts and comments are not about you personally. If you think they are, then you should ask yourself why you feel this way and redirect your anger, uncomfortableness, and difference of opinion to a larger issue—like actively working to change things in society and not me, per se. I am not your problem—the way society has shaped you is the problem. Again, I am not referring to anyone personally because I am not sure who those “people” are exactly. I have never had a face-to-face interaction with anyone who has blatantly said, “What you said about #race #whiteprivilge #whitefragility offends me. Can we talk about it?”

I was going to write a post that would describe and break down what the hashtags above mean, but I never intended this blog to do that. This blog was meant to provide an “interpretation of MY bilingual life,” how I have navigated life as a #bilingual person of color. If MY experiences offend you, my very REAL experiences, things people (usually White) happened to say to ME offend you, then the problem lies within you.

I find it particularly interesting that most White people have not had to talk about their White skin and when we, #POC, bring up #race (even comically) it becomes a “Why are you so angry at us?” or “Isn’t that racist [of you]?” dialogue. I don’t remember a time I haven’t talked about my brown skin and #bilingualism.

For the record, I’m not an “angry Latina with an attitude.” I am simply open to discussing with others issues that are related to language, class, and race in order to gain a better understanding about each other. In fact, I am so interested that I wrote a 300+ page dissertation focused on those issues—so see, my posts about #race are not about YOU—they’re about making this world a better place for Latinx children who come from marginalized communities. I wouldn’t waste my time and energy writing about #whitepeople—history has already done that for us.

Sinceramente,
#letstalk #latinaPhD #racematters #worktogether

Co-authored a Huffington Post Article about CA’s Proposition 58- LEARN

Please help me in spreading the news about California’s Proposition 58 – (Language Education, Acquisition and Readiness). It will be on the November ballot and we must get California residents to vote YES. Voting YES means ALL students in the state of CA will have the opportunity to receive a multilingual education. This isn’t the first time I have urged the public to become advocates for bilingual education, so please take a moment to read about the proposition and share it with friends, family, and colleagues that can vote in the state of California.

Some may ask why I have an invested interest in seeing this proposition pass. I grew up in Southern California and in a bilingual community up until 8th grade. I personally did not benefit from bilingual education, but would love to see it an option for all students, but, especially students who come from bilingual homes.

Please click on the link below to read the Huffington Post promoting CA Proposition 58.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/american-anthropological-association/save-ca-residents-from-a_b_11387726.html

My Toddler’s Bilingual Development

I have been recording (mostly on Facebook) my daughters’ bilingual development. The following conversation took place when she was 1 year and 11 months old.

Me: Sabrina, ven a comer los frijoles.
Sabrina: No, jole!
Me: Ven aquí.
Sabrina: No ven
Me: Si
Sabrina No, si!

As you can see  her words are “fragmented” and she echoed what I was saying, yet all in Spanish. It has been an amazing journey that not a single person could have described to me prior to deciding to raise my daughter with 2 (at least) languages. I have seen her change from a predominately Spanish speaker at 2 and a 1/2 years old to having a strong command of English within 6 months of being immersed in an English daycare. Today, at 4 years old, it can be difficult to tell which of the 2 languages she speaks “better.” Just the other day the following conversation took place between her and a new friend:

New Friend: Sabrina, por que hablas ingles?
Sabrina: En Austin hablamos espaniol y in Ecuador we speak English!
Me: That’s right, honey. You are bilingual and your friend is becoming bilingual just like you!

In fact, one could argue, based on that single sentence she uttered above, that she has a strong command of both languages because she managed to code-switch while maintaining the grammatical structure of both languages!

When it comes to raising a bilingual child it seems like, as I have said before, there are many trials, joys, and tribulations. Having moved to Ecuador recently we switched to speaking English with Sabrina for the first time in her life! She refused to speak to us in English for about 2 months UNTIL she came home from her first day at a Spanish school. The teachers and classmates were so impressed with her American English that she, what I assume, felt proud. Since that day she speaks mostly in English to us. It was a complete shock to me to see how drastically she switched all due to what her peers thought. Now, as I mentioned, my biggest concern is asking her to switch back to Spanish IF we ever decide to move back to the U.S.

Have your children successfully switched back to the original language you had spoken after moving back to a country of origin?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

The following post was inspired by two other blog posts and an assignment by one of professors in graduate school. In other words, as you have seen on my blog a lot of my stories interweave with each other. They all contribute to the dense fabric that makes up  my ever-evolving, never static identity. ENJOY.

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 PhD 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 (i.e., gender, immigrant generational status, ethnicity). 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.

The theoretical concept of intersectionality has forced me to reconsider the aspect of my identity I have honed in on for most of life: ethnic/racial identity. The readings and critical class discussions have made me realize how much the other aspects of my identity have influenced how I participated in the construction of my overall identity.

This paper will address how my ethnic/racial identity has been shaped by the intersection of my other identities: gender, class, & immigrant generational status. My multiple identities were partly shaped within the context of the school setting. In other words, the social location from where I will deconstruct my overall identity comes from one context that has resonated with me the most: the academic school setting.

The concept of intersectionality describes identities in relation to each other where each one constitutes the other. An individuals’ social location within this intersectionality helps shape the experiences we have within certain contexts (Moya, 2002). For instance, if we think of my ethnic/racial identity in relation to my immigrant generational status, gender, and class in the context of a school setting where the majority of the students share a similar background one could argue that my positionality carries nearly equal footing with others. In a completely different context, where my social location (as previously described) is completely different from my peers one could argue that my positionality has also changed. According to Holland, Skinner, Lachiotte, and Cain (1998), “Positional identities have to do with the day-to-day and on-the-ground relations of power, deference, and entitlement, social affiliation, and distance—with the social-interactional, social-relational structures of the lived world.” (p. 127). This analysis will explore how aspects of my identity were negotiated and mediated using cultural artifacts or tools to (re)position where I stood on the hierarchy of social relations (Garcia, 2012; Holland et.al, 2008).

In the eighth grade my family moved from a predominately Mexican and working class city (Santa Ana, C.A.) to a predominately White and middle to upper class city (Mission Viejo, C.A.). By moving to a very different city aspects of my identity and how they related to one another also seemed to change. Additionally, there were several pivotal changes that occurred almost simultaneously. My father passed away changing the way our home was organized. In retrospect, this is when my mother gained her sense of agency as the matriarch of our now entirely female home. My identity as a female, though I did not realize at the time, was now being shaped by my mother’s transformation from a devoted wife to an independent woman who really wanted to see her three daughters take on more feminist roles in society outside the home.

Due to my father’s passing (cerebral aneurysm) our economic status changed because he left behind several life insurance plans. My mother saw this as an opportunity to try and provide us with a better education and safer neighborhood to live in. The ways my change in class intersected with other aspects of my identity was influenced by the new context (as mentioned earlier) I found myself in a predominately white, middle to upper class neighborhood.

The aspects of my identity that seemed to have changed the least as a result of the move included my ethnic/racial identity and my immigrant generational status. Interestingly, it was those two aspects that seemed to have also changed the way the school setting positioned me. In Santa Ana I was positioned as the smart student by teachers and by my peers and in Mission Viejo I was placed on a remedial track. Slowly and painfully I began to see myself as just that: remedial. When I graduated from high school in 1994 I had an academic GPA of 2.49 and I ranked 226 in my class of 367. Most, if not all, of the courses I had taken were not college prep. They were courses for students who, as one teacher described, “designed for those who will go straight to work” after graduating.

This remedial status followed me through community college and my first semester at UT. I started community college with high hopes of exiting the remedial reading, writing, and math courses I was placed in (again!), which I did within a few years. Once transferring to UT I failed my first semester and was put on academic probation due to my 1.5 G.P.A. During my second semester I was removed from academic probation and I wish I could say the rest is history, but it wasn’t. I still felt like that remedial student and in many ways it has prevented me from exploring other aspirations.
Fortunately or not, it took pursuing a doctorate to understand what happened to me and how I really am not the person the track I was put on labeled me as. This past academic year (which is also my fifth year in a doctoral program) I have repeated parts of the following mantra to change this perceived remedial student identity of which I have carried the weight of since junior high (1989):

My Identity Mantra
I am not a remedial student.
I’ve got this.
I can write and articulate just as well as privileged peers.
I am not that other(ed) person.
I have agency.
I can create spaces of agency.
I know when I am living in a figured world that oppresses me.
I know how to mediate and negotiate oppressive spaces into agentive ones.
I can identify and counter discursive practices that position me as weak, dumb, quiet or submissive.
I have tools that will help me construct the identity I need to achieve my academic goals.
I am not that person.
I am who I say I am.

Holland and Lave (2001) described how individuals or groups enact their sense of agency by acknowledging their histories. By learning about and coming to the realization of how the school system can track immigrant and minority students I have come to terms with the fact that our public school system is not perfect. One of the ways I have been able to create spaces of agency within oppressive setting like the classroom (in public schools and higher education) is through the use of cultural artifacts. Holland et.al (2008) described these artifacts as occurring in the moment whether they are “verbal, gestural, [or] material productions—emerging from the situation” they are taken up by individuals and used as tools to navigate and reposition oneself in order to open spaces of agency. Reflecting on my academic trajectory and how my ethnic/racial identity has, and will continue to change, I have to admit that I cannot pinpoint exactly how I was able to reach my current social location as a privileged, middle to upper class Latina pursuing a doctorate. Perhaps I am in many ways like the woman who climbed up the house (Holland et.al, 2008) and was able to perform a great deal of how I navigated the academic institution that positioned me as remedial for many, many years.