I was raised by brilliant and strong women who spoke perfect Spanish and at times broken English. I was also raised by a father who sang Spanish worship songs throughout the day and told us dímelo en español (tell me in spanish) when we would share about our days.
My husband was raised by a fierce woman from south Georgia and his father was from a beautiful city nestled in the Andes mountains. He was sent to La Paz, Bolivia for part of his kindergarten year and became fluent in Spanish before returning back to Atlanta.
Then, one day we met and fell in love and had two beautiful baby girls. It has not been lost on me (or us) that our girls are blends of Latino immigrants and deep American roots. We understand that we are our daughters’ first teachers when it comes to their vibrant cultures, but it can be a challenge. It’s sometimes difficult to embrace one culture without feeling as if we are neglecting one of the others.Read More