Sole Purpose 25
Celebrating My Heritage:
The Importance of Language and Legacy

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Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!

Today, I want to celebrate why I am so proud to be a Mexican-American provider and what it means to me. Now, I'll be the first to admit that my sun-kissed dirty blonde hair (*ahem* enhanced with highlights as I've gotten older) can make me look a bit ethnically ambiguous. But make no mistake, I am proudly Mexican American.

Though my Mexican heritage is undeniable, I recognize that my experience growing up with two English-speaking parents in a San Diego suburb differs from that of many other first- and second-generation Mexican Americans. Additionally, as someone of mixed race with my father being my Hispanic parent, my background is distinct.

My family means the absolute world to me and has played a pivotal role in all my achievements. When I think of my family, I think of warmth—big family gatherings at my aunt’s house, my cousins and I running around, lots of delicious food and music to dance to and everyone laughing and enjoying time spent together. Walking into a room and being greeted with big bear hugs and kisses on the cheek, leaving with a warm heart and a full belly, are some of my fondest memories.

I know my family is incredibly proud of who I have become and who I am to all of them. They are especially proud of how much I have embraced speaking Spanish and celebrating our Mexican heritage. Because, at the end of the day, it was something I chose to do, not something that was imposed or forced upon me. That, in itself, is a privilege and I love knowing I help keep traditions alive.

I am very fortunate that most of my dad’s family lived in San Diego, so I grew up with so much of my family nearby. My grandmother came to the United States (San Diego) from Guadalajara, Mexico, and raised her four kids, working tirelessly to give them a better life. Although my grandmother passed away from ovarian cancer shortly after I was born, I have heard enough stories of her selflessness to feel that I know her. I feel her smile down on me every time I excitedly see a Spanish-speaking patient in the clinic, and it makes my heart glow.

I was given the choice to learn Spanish, and my second language is one of the things I am most proud of in the world. My grandmother and my father’s generation were discouraged from speaking Spanish and encouraged to acclimate to being fully American and communicate in English. While that may have been the case in the 1970s and 80s in Southern California, I didn’t face that pressure growing up. Instead, I was encouraged to embrace a second language.

My aunts grin from ear to ear when they hear me switch over to Spanish. There is truly nothing like seeing a patient give a sigh of relief when I start speaking Spanish and they realize I understand them perfectly.

Despite my second language being my favorite thing in the world and a huge source of pride, I have actually been self-conscious about my Spanish for most of my life. I vividly remember being in 6^th grade Spanish class when my teacher, knowing I practiced Spanish with my parents at home, asked me how much Spanish I spoke. Nervous as I was, I blurted out “pistachio” instead of “un poco.” Everybody laughed, and I turned beet red.

From 6^th grade Spanish all the way through high school AP Spanish, it was always my hardest subject. I could read and write, but the moment I had to speak, I would break into a cold sweat, stressing about my accent and potential mistakes. Are we really surprised that I'm a perfectionist, even with my language? My poor sweet dad would play music and try to have me sing along to work on my pronunciation. Nothing helped and I would choke on my words.

It wasn’t until I started volunteering at a low-income pediatric clinic in high school that I saw the power of my language skills. The nurses, who knew my mom, encouraged me to practice my Spanish with them without fear of judgment. One day, I explained to a patient how to warm up their baby’s bottles, with a Spanish-speaking attending in the room, ready to correct me if needed but wanting to encourage me to try. That’s when I truly saw the value of Spanish in my life and the impact it could make for a patient.

Once I went off to college, I knew I wanted to continue improving my Spanish. It was my first time living outside of San Diego, and I embraced my heritage even more to feel closer to home. I learned to cook authentic Mexican food since my dorms didn’t exactly offer the street tacos I was used to at home. During college, I was also diagnosed with diabetes, which meant I had to adjust many of my recipes to fit my new carb-counting lifestyle. Food is a huge part of culture and cultural identity. There are so many amazing, registered dietitians online who create healthy, simple, diabetes-friendly recipes that help preserve culturally important foods. My personal favorite is @healthysimpleyum on Instagram.

In college, I also continued my Spanish classes and went on to become an advanced Spanish tutor and a teaching assistant for the Spanish department. I went from someone who was so afraid of speaking Spanish that I could barely utter a word, to teaching lectures on complex grammar and writing 10+ page book reports on Hispanic literature and culture all entirely in the language. One summer, I ran into my high school Spanish teacher at the store, and her jaw dropped when she saw how comfortable I “suddenly” was speaking Spanish.

The moral of the story is that almost everything gets better and easier with practice. Every amazing attending who seemed to make no mistakes in the OR was once an intern and even a medical student. And I was once someone who struggled to say “a little bit” in front of my 6^th grade class.

I recognize that I have lived an extremely privileged life, and my parents and family sacrificed so much to ensure I lived a better life than those before me. Despite my (*cough* bleached) blonde hair, I am incredibly proud to have the last name Santiago and to list myself as a Spanish-speaking provider. It is a blessing that I chose to learn my grandmother's tongue, and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to share that with my patients and make a difference in their lives.

This article is dedicated to my grandmother Carmen, who lived a very hard life and left this earth too soon. I know she is ecstatic that I, her son’s daughter, actively chose to embrace my Mexican heritage and looks down on me lovingly every day.