I identified with the passage “My Name” in House on Mango Street. It reminds me of the I Am poems we did in class last week. For example, Esperanza states, “It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing,” (Cisneros, pg. 10, 1984). Her name is her great-grandmother’s, which is popular to do in Hispanic culture. It’s not only a name, it carries a history. It tells how connected her family is and the traditions they follow. Also, I like how she wants to learn more about her great-grandmother and isn’t ashamed to say she wants to change the future. She doesn’t want to be victim to what happened her great-grandmother and won’t victimize herself and her family. She’s pushing towards a better future and wants the family name to continue. I like how she details the songs in the morning because a lot of Hispanic/Latino households do that. We’ll put on some of our favorite tunes and wake up so refreshed and energize, like the music is like our hot morning coffee. When she says the songs sound like their sobbing, I think of a type of Colombian music called Vallenato. It’s very slow, but semi-upbeat.
I understand how she feels about her name meaning her family’s legacy, but some Americans can want to make you water it down or dumb it down for them to say. For example, when she wants to identify herself as “…Lisandra or Martiza or Zeze the X…,” I relate to that feeling (Cisneros, pg. 11, 1984). There’s two different ways of saying my name. My name is Carolina, which is pronounced ka-row-lee-nah. In American culture, my name is pronounced ka-row-line-uh. If I say my name the American way, no one has trouble spelling it or pronouncing it. But when I say it the Hispanic way, the correct way in my case, almost every American I know gives me a confused look. I then clarify by saying “Like the state”, and then it proceeds with “Ooooh you mean ka-row-line-uh,” which I then reply with “Yeah, but it’s pronounced ka-row-lee-nah”. I used to say my name the American way just to not have to deal with this, but then I felt I wasn’t doing myself or my family justice. I felt like I was cheating myself out of my heritage. I’m proud of my background and want to show that. My parents named me a certain way, and that’s how it’s pronounced. If us Americans can say and come up with words like onomatopoeia and supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (which is a real word), then we can pronounce people’s names correctly. Also, not only have people pronounced my name wrong or tried to correct me, but they completely missed the mark. For instance, I’ve been called Caroline, Katarina, Catalina, and even Catherine. There will be times where make an exception and I’ll just say it the American way just to save myself some time, like when someone’s taking my Starbuck’s order, or any food order for that matter.
Lastly, the “No Speak English” passage was so sad. It’s sad to see Mamacita disconnect with her only son and to not be able to communicate with him because he only knows English and she knows Spanish. It saddens me that she’s homesick and her own family can’t comfort her. So many Hispanics/Latin families come here with big aspirations, only to be betrayed, forced to be Americanized and to be yelled at for speaking another language. I can’t stand seeing videos where people are speaking their native language and are told to speak English. Firstly, America doesn’t have an official language because of how diverse it is. Secondly, I feel people do that because they a) are insecure they can’t speak another language other than English, b) want to be nosey, c) believe people are talking about them in a different language (which is never the case), or d) are uneducated and plain racist.
I’ve read this book before but I resonate with it so much more than I did in high school.
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