This page is dedicated to the phase 1 assignment
Andres Zacarias
ENGL 11000
Professor Moran
March-8th-2023
PHASE 1
Cover Letter
In my Language and Literacy Narrative, I engage the audience by depicting the challenging hurdles of encountering something new and drastically different from what they are accustomed to, particularly in terms of language usage. By leveraging my proficiency in Spanish, the second language I learned, I fully immerse the audience in the narrative, allowing them to envision themselves present and actively participating in the conversations. One of the most profound and meaningful revelations I experienced while writing this piece was recognizing the significance of a voice resonating beyond mere words; it enabled me to vividly immerse myself in the events and visualize them in my mind. The context, purpose, and authorship of written works have had a profound impact on my personal growth and learning. As I delved into the stories and essays of other authors in the field of language and literature, I observed how they purposefully influenced specific audiences through their writing, which motivated me to help my own audience understand the reasons behind my writing choices. This assignment has provided me with a deeper understanding of how attitudes towards linguistic conventions can simultaneously empower and oppress language users. By expressing my personal emotions and triumphing over the negative experiences I faced during that period in my life, I have been able to overcome obstacles and undergo personal growth.
Where to even begin my story such as mine. I suppose I should start with the journey that began it all, Mexico. I was still in high school when my father brought up the idea of traveling to Mexico. Initially, I felt hesitant about it, to be honest. It was a foreign country, unfamiliar to me, and I didn’t feel any strong connection to my roots like my father did to his. Personally, I never considered myself someone who easily gets excited, especially when it comes to traveling. Everything was different there such as the architecture, streets, food, and even the people compared with the life I was used to in the States, particularly in New York City. On the other hand, my mother wasn’t pressuring me, but rather advising and convincing me to go. She wanted me to experience a world she knew during her youth, a world I had never glimpsed before. “Hijo, you should go to Mexico. It will be a fun and memorable experience for you. I want you to step out more and explore what lies beyond New York,” my mom expressed during our dinner conversation. “Alright, I’ll go. This means I won’t earn money for rent this month, so cut me some slack. Just kidding, Mom,” I jokingly replied. In the end, I made the decision to go and tried to maintain a positive mindset throughout the entire trip.
When I landed in Mexico it all looked very different and to be very honest I had no idea what the signs even said. Upon reaching my aunt’s house, a strong sense of not belonging overwhelmed me, although I acknowledge it as a personal sentiment. “Hijo you’re finally here to visit us, and we can get to know you, how are you? How’s school?” For the first time in my life I finally met my tia Alejandra. I’m going to be honest, her questions felt overwhelming as if my head was over working itself thinking about how to best answer her in Spanish as good aas possible. My aunts Spanish was markedly different from mine like it was more advanced. I responded to her in the most simple way, “Yes I am doing well. High school is over, and I’m on my way to becoming a college student.” Nonetheless, it seemed sufficient to impress my aunt. As I entered her home it appeared small but once inside it revealed a pleasant interior design. There was a rooftop balcony where the dogs would sleep and play, and they had their own garden where they grew vegetables and fruits. While my family’s clothing wasn’t significantly different, when we visited Oaxaca where my dad and his siblings were born they changed into traditional garments resembling robes and all the women were dressed in the same robes. We decided to stay in Oaxaca for two days, and let me tell you, the cloud-covered mountains appeared breathtakingly beautiful, as if life itself was experiencing a rebirth there.
As I unexpectedly stumbled upon my aunts, cousins, and father engaged in a discussion spoken in Triqui, a Native American dialect used in the Mexican state of Oaxaca, it was obvious that they didn’t want me to join or participate in their conversation. Personally, I didn’t feel obligated nor care to learn the language or dialect since I believed I would never have a practical use for it in my life. Even during our visit to my father’s hometown in Oaxaca, it seemed like they were involved in some sort of tribal gathering or gathering of their community with friends or family. To be honest, it didn’t pique my interest until they mentioned my name, particularly my aunt. “Andres can’t speak Spanish, so why is he here?” “He doesn’t even eat the food here. He should have stayed with his mother and siblings in New York,” is what my aunt said in Triqui. I had to rely on my cousin to translate it for me, as she overheard the conversation and didn’t want me to find out later. I had a feeling my aunt didn’t like me, and unfortunately, I was right. She was expressing to others in the tribe how disrespectful I was for not eating the food they prepared, how I didn’t enjoy going out every day, and how I wasn’t of much help. This experience showed me that even family can treat you poorly. It’s disheartening because my aunt acted nice in front of me, but it was merely to mask her true feelings towards me. I hate to admit it, but I don’t think I would want to return to Mexico. I miss my home in New York and my family. It was more comfortable for me to be myself and experience peace without being criticized by my family, at least the ones I’m usually surrounded by. At times, I even question my own identity and purpose.
As the day to leave Mexico approached, I experienced a sense of relief that the vacation was ending. The anticipation of returning home and finding comfort in my own bed, accompanied by the soothing sound of the air conditioning, excited me. I eagerly looked forward to the peaceful enjoyment of playing video games and relishing the delightful home cooked meals prepared by my mother. However, what truly held significance for me was the freedom to express myself in Spanish without constraints. This meant the ability to engage in conversations with my cousins and bond with my beloved dog upon returning home. Deep within my mind and soul, I recognized that my true place resided in my hometown, where I truly belonged. It was there that I could embark on my own adventures. The Bronx was a place where I was born and raised and was used to the life their where I was free and me 24/7.
