Learning Spanish as A Filipino: A Story of Contempt and Forgiveness

One of the requisite courses to pass the International Baccalaureate is to learn a foreign language. I have never done this before in my life as English and Filipino are official languages in the Philippines, with the former as the official mode of instruction at my school. The choices provided by the school were Spanish, French, Mandarin, and Self-Taught Literature. Having studies Filipino literature for four years, as well as a thirst to learn about other cultures made me lean towards foreign languages. French seemed too much of a physical workout for my tongue muscles, Mandarin seemed too challenging to learn in just two years (hopefully, a fear that will be addressed in the future). Knowing that a lot of Spanish words existed both in Filipino and Bisaya (my beautiful, beautiful mother tongue) reassured me that I would understand the vocabulary with some level of ease.

It was a course that I excelled in. I was very engaged in lessons, constantly raising my hand, and letting my seatmates copy off of me when Señor Gallego was not looking. Sometimes, I could feel the collective groan around the class though it was not uttered out loud, when it seemed like the only person who could answer was me. In my head though, I would be screaming expletives at them saying they would not know what it feels like to have most of your national identity marred by the brutality of imperialist colonizers. I also had insecurities with being perceived solely as a 'know-it-all'. But I also put the work in. Every assignment, I handed in. Through summer, I listened to stories on Duolingo's spanish podcast. I guess I did not like the feeling of my hard work being invalidated.

I enjoyed learning about hispanic culture and trying to have a less binary view of colonizer and colonized. Putting filipinos in a perpetual state of victimhood would not help us grow and heal from our wounds. It would only reiterate concepts of being small, poor, and powerless. Especially when we have so much opportunity to grow and create progress. I did not want to view my Spanish teacher as someone who wanted to erase my cultural identity and replace it with his own. I could tell he was a bit quiet at times whenever I mentioned the Philippines' history with Spain. The man was honestly just doing his job. What did stick with me, was how passionate he was. And something about that intensity made me want to be as proud of my own language and culture. Borrowed words and all. But when you think about other languages, they too, are amalgamations of other languages. This mesh that can easily transcend borders of nations. I guess the most important part of the process was that I never felt like I lost myself. I just grew into someone else.

One of my best friends that I consider a sister is from Mexico. We have bonded over hating the Spaniards for erasing our pre-colonial cultures, introducing rigid patriarchal and hierarchal structures, and basically ignoring the complex dynamics between native peoples. But I have found that our bond strengthened through compassion for one another. Because bonds forged through contempt are shallow. The authenticity in the classroom, fuelled by my teacher, encouraged me to be open. I will also give myself credit by acknowledging my love for languages. There is so much power and connection in being able to express yourself to others who are different from you. You can speak to their heart. This is what I choose to focus one. This is what keeps me going when it can be easy to focus on a singular narrative of oppression. This is why I continue to learn more languages.

Much love and light,

Amanda

Credits to Cebuano artist, @bastinuod for this artwork featuring Lapu-Lapu, one of the first Filipino natives to resist imperial Spanish colonisation. This artwork commemorates the 500th anniversary of the arrival of Ferdinand Magellan, Portuguese explorer representing the Spanish Crown, on Filipino Shores.