In The Community
Around the world, being able to speak multiple languages is usually considered a plus – a skill that connects different cultures and perspectives. But for many Latinos in the U.S., this 'advantage' has sometimes been a double-edged sword.
Throughout the latter part of the 20th century, the phenomenon of being "byelingual" arose. This term refers to people who know two languages (in this case, English and Spanish), but often struggle with elements from both. It's not just about forgetting a word here or there; it's about juggling two cultural identities and sometimes feeling like you don’t fully belong to either.
Back in the day, especially during the '80s and '90s, many Latino parents had a tough choice to make: Either teach their kids Spanish to help keep them rooted to their heritage or focus on English so they could fit better in the U.S., and even be a smaller target for racism and racist English-only policies. For many socio-political reasons, including immigration reforms and a charged racial climate post the Civil Rights era, many immigrant parents chose not to teach their children their native tongue.
This choice, although made with the children's best interests at heart, often stemmed from a fear of ostracization and a desire to shield their kids from the pervasive racism of the time.
Fast forward to now, and there's a twist. Many first and second-generation Latinos find themselves estranged from a significant part of their heritage. As a result, many face criticism, even from people in their own community, for not mastering Spanish. They're caught in a sort of linguistic limbo. And there's even a cheeky, and often malicious term for it: "no sabo.”
@orangesheepsam #nosabo #nosabokid #parati #foryoupage #fypシ #mexicantiktok #mixedgirl #growuphispanic #momsoftiktok #daughtersoftiktok
On the surface, it might seem like the term is harmless slang or a joke, but words have weight. Calling someone a “no sabo kid” is often used to make them feel ashamed for not having perfect Spanish or not knowing Spanish at all. That’s a skill they might have had no control over learning in the first place, so it’s cruel to point it out that way. It’s also divisive, creating an "us vs. them" in our own community, and making some feel left out or 'less than.' At its core, it's a form of gatekeeping, telling people they aren't "Latino enough" based on language alone.
But here's the thing: Being Latino isn't just about speaking Spanish. At the heart of this issue lies the complex nature of Latino and Latine identity in the U.S. The expectation that every Latino should be fluent in Spanish ignores the vast cultural, linguistic, and racial diversity of Latin America. While Spanish remains the dominant language, many indigenous languages, including Quechua, Mayan, and countless others, are spoken throughout the continent. The rich history of these languages and their speakers is a testament to the variety within the Latine identity.
Some of our icons, like Selena Quintanilla, weren't fluent Spanish speakers, but they wore their Latino badge with pride. It goes to show that speaking a language is just one piece of the puzzle. People are starting to understand that, both inside and outside of the Latino community, but there’s still work to be done in shifting the narrative around the “no sabo” term.
As reported by NBC News, “no sabo” kids are doing some of that work–they’re fighting the label by reclaiming it. Young Latinos in the U.S. are pushing back against the idea that speaking perfect Spanish is necessary to be authentically Latino. They’re using TikTok to share their experiences through funny and relatable content, with the hashtag #nosabo garnering millions of views.
@saianana Like mother like daughter? #peliroja❤️👩🏻🦰 #nosabokid #growinguphispanic #latina #latinotiktok #mexicanamerican #spanish #learningspanish #ifykyk #parati #paratipage #fypシ゚viral
There are even initiatives like the “Yo Sabo” card game and the “Spanish Sin Pena” (“Spanish Without Shame”) program, which aim at helping Latinos reconnect with Spanish in a way that’s fun and non-judgmental. This new wave of Latinos argues that cultural identity is multifaceted and can’t be reduced to how well you speak a language. They’re also creating safe spaces for each other and highlighting the importance of supportive environments for language learning.
As the world evolves and cultures continue to intertwine, we need to rethink what it means to belong. Your connection to your heritage is a deeply personal and multifaceted thing that should not be criticized. And gatekeeping language only limits the richness of cultural exchange.
While the path to understanding and redefining what it means to be Latine might still be under construction, one thing is clear: It's time to leave divisive terms like "no sabo" behind. Everyone has their own way of connecting with their culture, and that's worth celebrating.
Today there are many labels I proudly use during introductions. I am a first-gen Guatemalteca-Mexicana college student. Identity is one of the things we use to define ourselves and we cling to it- it’s our orgullo. Latino culture is orgullo. I, along with many others, understand what the experience is like when we’re told we don’t look as if we have the privilege of feeling the pride that is our culture.
I never questioned the cultural experiences or events I followed my parents to as a kid, I found my comfort in the grande backyard fiestas, Noche Buena celebrations, endless (and sleepless) quinceañeras. I felt spoiled being the kid that had tamales and champurrado for breakfast before school. My mom’s outrage at novelas was mine as well. To put it simply, all I knew was being Latina meant I had warmth, comfort, and celebration surrounding me.
When I got to middle school, I began to comprehend how my identity was both used as an insult and simultaneously disregarded. I witnessed people I cared about deal with microaggressions for their language barrier, yet on my end, I would be told things that left me confused:
“you don’t look Latina,” “you’re acting white,” ”you don’t look like someone who would speak Spanish.”
I felt conflicted, should I be thankful I’m seen as what the “norm” is? Does being called white mean I’m being seen as educated? Why am I so insulted but strangely relieved? Who the hell decided being Latina came with a template anyways?
Reflecting back, I realize that subconsciously I was associating not being seen as a minority with a sense of safety and acceptance. This eventually manifested into believing I was just a white-washed Latina. I looked in the mirror and believed this was the way I was supposed to present myself as. I pushed away where I found my comfort and leaned into the identity others were essentially defining for me. I pushed away what was my orgullo. By the way, no thanks to the mandatory school surveys where I had to mark “Other” or “White” alongside “Hispanic/Latino”.
Down the line, I learned what the term “Eurocentric” meant. It put into perspective how the views and beauty standards of today came to be, how it shaped the expectation of what “educated” and “not a minority” looks like. At the end of the day, this is an outdated mindset that shouldn’t carry weight or value today. I began to look towards strong badass Latinas who never hesitated to correct anyone trying to doubt their identity.
There was a power in hearing someone say the words “No, I am Latina.”
It’s freeing when you’re the one taking charge of what defines your Latinidad. It runs a lot deeper than appearance, Spanish fluency, or stereotypes. It’s generations worth of cultura and experiences to carry. I’m still strengthening my connection to my roots today, and when I think of the diverse women who confidently take pride in their identity, it pushes me to tap into my orgullo even more.
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You may be familiar with the famous “Adelitas,” known as the women who fought alongside men in the Mexican Revolution. But did you know there is a real woman behind this name?
Her name was Adela Velarde Pérez born on September 8, 1900 in Chihuahua, México. She was said to be friendly, bold, brave, and smart, and at just 13 years old, she became part of “La Cruz Blanca” where she learned medical skills against her father’s wishes. Even without the support of her father, the young Adela ignored his opposition and left to pursue her desire to become a nurse.
When she turned 15 years old, Adela joined the military and became a nurse on the front lines. There, alongside other women, her responsibility was to care for those wounded in action and to engage in combat when the men needed help. These women were known as the “soldaderas”. As her story came to light, the women previously referred to as “soldaderas” would go on to be nicknamed “Adelitas."
Throughout her service during the Mexican Revolution, the real Adela had the romantic attention of the soldiers, but she repeatedly turned down their advances and focused on the mission at hand.
It wasn’t until years later that she developed a relationship with Antonio Gil with whom she’d have a child. Unfortunately, she lost her partner during a battle of the Mexican Revolution, and their child died during combat in World War II. Even after suffering these tragic losses, she remained strong and resilient.
Adela would go on to fight battles in Zacatecas, Chihuahua, Morelos, and Mexico City. Though her contributions to the Mexican Revolution were great in number, her story was forgotten, and her legacy lost in time (until now, that is). After the Revolution, she moved to Mexico City, where she worked as a typist.
Twenty years after the Revolution, Adela was recognized as a veteran, but it wasn’t until sixty years after the Revolution that she would formally receive recognition and a pension for her service. At age 65, she met and married Coronel Alfredo Villegas whom she’d share the rest of her days with. Adela Velarde Pérez died in 1971 and was laid to rest in San Felipe Cemetery in Del Rio, Texas.
Source: Cadena CollectiveSource: Cadena Collective
Long after the revolution, “Adelitas” were depicted as hyper-sexualized versions of the women who fought in the revolution.
Gabriela Mendoza-Garcia Ballet Folklorico website
After the conflict, these veterans returned home to fulfill societal norms, where their stories and contributions were slowly forgotten. The colorful posters of beautiful women with braids and lipstick, their gorgeous hair trailing down their arms with beautiful smiles, are far from reality.
These women gave their blood, sweat, and tears for their country. They were on battlefields alongside men and held multiple roles contributing to the cause. They dressed to be ready for anything, from cooking to aiding on the battlefield. Throughout Mexican history, women have held key roles in medicine, as teachers, combatants, and leaders during conflicts that have contributed to the country's construction. Their resiliency and fighting spirit lives on as the country’s flag flies high.
This story was originally published on Cadena Collective as part of their resilient women photography series. The series served to honor resilient women by recreating images of them and highlighting their stories.
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