From my 5th grade year on, I started noticing that some of my classmates came from different countries and were not aware of the resources available to them in their new home. For example, Elon University offered free tutoring programs, summer camps, language classes, precollege courses, and volunteer opportunities with local organizations, but these classmates didn’t know they could join. While chatting with them, they would make faces at me, expressing “Sorry, I don’t understand.” So I would say “¿Hablas español?” and they would say “¡Sí!” That’s when I knew a language barrier was preventing them from accessing these resources.
As a young 5th grader, teachers often asked me to translate for students who could only speak Spanish. I never had a problem with this because I have always translated for my family, so translating for my friends was something I enjoyed. I felt I served as a source of support for those who were experiencing loneliness, discouragement or feeling like they didn’t fit in due to not speaking English. I often thought about how different it would be if I were not willing to help, if I had simply said, “This is not my job, I’m not doing this, that’s too much. Why should I play this big role? I’m not getting paid.” I am not that type of person, so I was happy to help. But it shouldn’t be the responsibility of other children to teach language learners. Our schools should have programs that help new students. Consider how much more successful students could be if they knew about the career fairs, workshops, internships, and scholarships available to them.
And it’s not just in schools where we need to embrace multilingualism. All parts of our society benefit when we make them more accessible to those who speak other languages besides English. The ability to be part of our society, whether it’s going to school, voting, getting a job, or buying a house, should not depend solely on speaking English. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 68 million people in our country speak another language at home (Dietrich and Hernandez). That’s around a fifth of our population. But our current government is not supporting this multilingual population. It seems like they want to shift our understanding of what it means to be American to meaning that we have to speak English. Recently our president Donald Trump has taken this matter into his own hands. According to the AP, “Within hours of President Donald Trump’s inauguration, the new administration took down the Spanish-language version of the official White House website” (Figueroa). And he didn’t stop there: in March, he issued an executive order declaring English the official language of the United States (Trump, “Designating”). The order states that English has been the nation’s primary language since its founding–but this version of “history” is incorrect. And it’s a problem because it will exclude many people that make up this country and have traditionally kept our society functioning. This focus on English is a backdoor way of promoting white supremacy. We need to be more inclusive and structure our society around multilingualism, so that people’s access to resources and civic life is not determined by the language they speak.
My perspective on this issue has been shaped by the writing of Richard Rodriguez and Cathy Park Hong. Rodriguez’s memoir Hunger of Memory: The Education of Richard Rodriguez reflects on growing up in a Spanish-speaking home, later forced by his parents and teachers to speak English. He describes both the opportunities and losses that came with this linguistic assimilation, ultimately coming out against bilingual education. Hong’s memoir Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning covers her struggles with navigating the literary world as an Asian American poet and includes her own experience learning English as a child. While Rodriguez saw English as essential for success in “public society” and believed assimilation was the key to opportunity (12), Hong challenges the idea that belonging in American society requires “good” English, instead calling attention to the discrimination and invisibility that non-English speakers often face. In fact, she celebrates the creative power of so-called “bad English,” even naming a chapter of her memoir for it. Rodriguez and Hong’s contrasting points of view highlight the tension between linguistic assimilation–those who leave their first language behind in favor of English–and those who choose to leave English as their second language. This tension raises important questions about how language policies shape our identity and opportunity in the United States.
Richard Rodriguez sees Spanish and English as opposed to each other and requiring a choice between one or the other in terms of a child’s education. He describes Spanish as his “private language” (Rodriguez 14), which he spoke at home and made him feel close to his family. English, in contrast, was his “public language” (14), which his school demanded he use at home, even though his parents didn’t speak it. While this focus on English enabled his academic success, it led him to emotional distance from his working-class parents and the broader Mexican-American community in which he grew up. As he states, “As we children learned more and more English, we shared fewer and fewer words with our parents” (22). As an adult, Rodriguez looks back with regret about how his “public” success came at the expense of private relationships, even though he argues this tradeoff was necessary.
Cathy Park Hong has a different perspective on the necessity of learning English for participating in American life. She describes learning English as exhausting and alienating, like having “slippery marbles in her mouth” (Hong 77). She felt that speaking English “wasn’t an expression of me but a language that was out to get me” (77), a test full of traps that could expose her difference. Her struggle with language wasn’t met with patience: she remembers being scolded and yanked by a teacher just for not understanding English. Instead of feeling supported, she learned to see English as a language of punishment, created by white supremacy. While she recognizes the trauma that can come from not speaking “good English,” unlike Rodriguez she doesn’t believe this trauma is necessary for children from multilingual families. As she declares, “It was once a source of shame, but now I say it proudly: bad English is my heritage” (97). As for myself, I believe bilingualism is an area where we actually can have it all.
My own experience shows that, in contrast to Rodriguez’s beliefs, you don’t have to choose one language over the other. My mom spoke Spanish at home, and it was my first language. But I started learning English in preschool, and once I started kindergarten, my English got better. My mom always told me and my sister to speak Spanish at home and English at school. She would say it’s because you have to be fluent in both languages and have pride in where you are from. I’m glad she did this, because as I got older, I noticed some of my cousins were raised to only speak English. As a result, they weren’t able to communicate with other family members, and they didn’t know as much about their own culture.
I realize now that language programs are not just tools for communication but also gateways to participation in society. How do we expect future adults or immigrants to participate in our society if we are not educating them in a way that allows them to do so? Ultimately it was traumatic for Richard Rodriguez to have to give up his “private language” of Spanish and just take on the “public language” of English. Even though he felt the trauma was justified in the end, I believe it’s emotionally healthier for the ESL students and their families that would benefit from bilingual programs. The United States needs a structured approach to multilingualism, one that does not force assimilation through a single language but instead values the diversity of languages spoken across the country. Supporting multilingual programs in schools and communities can provide equitable access to education and resources for students like me and millions of others.
Furthermore, multilingual education offers important benefits that extend beyond the classroom. Research shows that bilingual programs improve not only academic performance but also longer-term civic engagement (Goldenberg and Wagner). Students are supported in both cognitive flexibility and deeper cultural awareness. These programs encourage participation in civic life by affirming student identities and ensuring they feel seen and valued in their communities. But despite these benefits, multilingual education programs are underfunded, even though the demand for them continues to grow (McDonald). Policies that limit language diversity often frame English-only education as a necessity for success–similar to what Rodriguez does in his memoir–overlooking the proven advantages of multilingual approaches. This tension reflects a broader struggle over whose voices and identities are legitimized in America’s future, as schools and communities face increasing pressure to conform to English-only standards. The dismantling of these programs not only harms students but also undermines the nation’s ability to thrive in an interconnected, multilingual world.
This brings me to this question: What makes an American? I don’t believe speaking English is what makes an American. Instead, being an American is about understanding democracy, knowing how our government works, and participating actively in civic life. Civic engagement such as voting, serving on a jury, or staying informed on local and national issues should not be limited to English speakers alone. Election materials, ballots, and public information must be accessible in multiple languages so that every citizen, regardless of their first language, can take part in democracy. To me, being American means embracing diversity while upholding shared civic values. Education plays a key role in this process by teaching people what democracy is, how they fit into it, and the responsibility they carry as members of society.
Unlike Richard Rodriguez, I believe access to education and resources, more so than mastery of the English language, makes the difference between being excluded or fully participating in American life. My own family history illustrates this. My father was originally educated in Spanish, but when he went for his GED he was expected to do so in English. Due to not speaking English well enough, he was unable to earn his GED and had to abandon his studies. He should have been able to take the test in Spanish or at least had a tutor to help him prepare for it in English. His story reflects that being American is not defined by language alone, but by education, civic participation, and the resilience to pursue opportunities despite obstacles. Like Cathy Park Hong, I believe being American should mean having the freedom to express identity without abandoning language and culture. To me, what defines an American is not uniformity but diversity embracing the multiple voices, languages, and experiences that strengthen the country.
To ensure that multilingualism is valued and supported in the U.S.A, our government needs stronger policies and programs that promote language diversity. One key step is expanding bilingual education programs across states so that students have equal opportunities regardless of where they live. Bilingualism should also be recognized as a valuable job skill, since workers who speak multiple languages can reach more people and strengthen businesses, schools, and community services. We need to protect funding so people who speak different languages can access classes and resources in their language. I am honestly so grateful for my parents encouraging Spanish at home, while my school gave me ESL classes. Being raised bilingual brought me joy in helping interpret for classmates and translating for my mom at the doctor’s office. Our lives and communities are much richer when they are not restricted to one language.
Works Cited
Dietrich, Sandy, and Erik Hernandez. “Nearly 68 Million People Spoke a Language Other Than English at Home in 2019.” United States Census Bureau, 6 Dec. 2022, www.census.gov/library/stories/2022/12/languages-we-speak-in-united-states.html.
Figueroa, Fernanda. “Trump Administration Shuts Down White House Spanish-Language Page and Social Media.” AP News, The Associated Press, 22 Jan. 2025, apnews.com/article/trump-white-house-spanish-language-website-62224890c5b05c8ce0878358ba4a5266.
Goldenberg, Claude, and Kirstin Wagner. “Bilingual Education: Reviving an American Tradition.” American Educator, vol. 39, no. 3, 2015, pp. 28–32, https://www.aft.org/ae/fall2015/goldenberg_wagner.
Hong, Cathy Park. Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning. One World, 2021.
“Justice Department Releases Guidance on Implementing President Trump’s Executive Order Designating English as the Official Language of the United States.” United States Department of Justice Office of Public Affairs, 14 July 2025, https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-releases-guidance-implementing-president-trumps-executive-order. Press release.
McDonald, John. “Bilingual Education Is America’s Future.” UCLA School of Education and Information Studies, 15 June 2023, seis.ucla.edu/news/bilingual-education-is-americas-future/.
Rodriguez, Richard. Hunger of Memory: The Education of Richard Rodriguez. Bantam Books, 2004.
Trump, Donald. “Designating English as the Official Language of the United States.” Federal Register, 6 Mar. 2025, https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2025/03/06/2025-03694/designating-english-as-the-official-language-of-the-united-states.