These California Latinos didn’t grow up speaking Spanish. Here’s why

Growing up in Stockton during the 1970s, Bill Esparza’s father forbade him from speaking Spanish at home.

His father, he said, grew up in an era where signs like “No dogs or Mexicans allowed” hung in storefronts along the U.S. border. When his Mexico-born father began attending school in the U.S., he was placed in special education classes for speaking Spanish.

“I found out later about the racism that he endured,” Esparza, 52, said. “He was so ashamed of speaking Spanish, I hardly ever heard him speak Spanish my entire life.”

Many American-born Latinos like Esparza have been called a “pocho” or “pocha,” a pejorative used to describe Mexican Americans who don’t speak Spanish fluently, at some point in their lives.

But language and education experts say racism and systemic barriers, including the lasting effect of a 1998 California ballot measure that eliminated many dual-language learning programs in public schools, have prevented generations of Latino children from learning Spanish.

Impact of Proposition 227

California voters in 1998 approved the passage of Proposition 227, dubbed the “English in Public Schools” initiative, which sought to limit dual-language immersion programs and bilingual education in California.

Sacramento City Councilman Eric Guerra, who opposed the ballot measure, said it was another “attack” on Latino communities, following a 1996 ban on affirmative action and the passage of Proposition 187, which sought to restrict state services like education and health care for undocumented immigrants in California.

Proposition 227 was later overturned in 2016 after former state Sen. Ricardo Lara authored a ballot measure, Proposition 58, to repeal it.

But the damage had already been done, affecting nearly 2 million children who were left without the opportunity to develop robust Spanish-language skills at public schools, according to Otto Santa Ana, a professor emeritus of Chicano/a studies at UCLA.

“The vast majority of California’s bilingual programs were gutted,” he said. “That whole generation had minimal, fig-leaf bilingual education.”

Manuel Buenrostro, a policy associate at Californians Together, a statewide coalition that advocates for English learners in California schools, said Proposition 227 hindered the expansion of dual-immersion programs in the state. He said many districts today lack the staff or resources to provide them.

“Now we’re in a situation where there’s a demand for these programs,” he said. “Not enough has been done to expand the programs.”

About 41.5% of students enrolled in California public school students between 2019-2020 spoke a second language at home, according to data from the California Department of Education. Nearly 80% of those students spoke Spanish at home, followed by Vietnamese and Mandarin.

For many Latino parents, including Guerra, it’s still a struggle to teach their children Spanish. Guerra, who serves as chair of the Sacramento Public Library Authority Board, advocates for more Spanish-language children’s books in libraries. It’s how he practiced his Spanish after moving to the U.S. from Mexico as a child.

For English-speaking parents interested in teaching their children Spanish, Santa Ana advises them to take their children to spend their summers with family in Mexico or Central America or enroll them in bilingual schools.

Sacramentan Daniel Savala, 39, was in high school when Proposition 227 was passed, and said it prompted him to become more politically engaged.

Savala, who grew up not speaking Spanish at home, said he wouldn’t have learned the language if it hadn’t been for his stepfather and uncle, who took him to work as a teenager.

Savala said his two children, ages 12 and 13, only speak English.

“They don’t know Spanish, and I would like them to learn Spanish,” Savala said. “Unless they go and learn it themselves, they won’t.”

Guerra acknowledges it’s particularly hard for working-class Latino parents to afford private Spanish lessons for their children or enroll them in private or charter schools that offer a bilingual curriculum. He said the Language Academy of Sacramento and the Casa de Español Spanish Language School provide programs locally.

“There (aren’t) enough options and, sometimes, affordable options for working parents,” Guerra said. “If you’re working-class, immigrant parents, you may not be in a school district that offers any kind of bilingual education or Spanish immersion program.”

‘Pocho orgulloso’ — ‘Proud pocho’

Since kindergarten, Patricia Jaquez, of Merced, has been shamed by friends and relatives for not speaking Spanish.

Jaquez wishes she could, but her parents made it a point to not teach her or her siblings the language in order for them to better assimilate to American culture. Her parents, she said, also experienced prejudice and racism for speaking the language on trips to the store or bank.

“I have to brush it off. It does bother me,” the 39-year-old said. “I am just as Chicana as anybody else.”

Between the 1930s and 1960s, according to Santa Ana, it was common for public schools to punish students for speaking Spanish.

“If you are in a racist society and Mexicans are considered to be inferior, every father would be fearful that his child ... would be abused by English speakers who felt it’s their right to mock or to even punish a child who spoke Spanish,” he said.

Prominent California Latino figures who have been shamed for their Spanish include former Los Angeles City Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa. During his campaign for a Los Angeles City Council seat in 2002, according to the Los Angeles Times, Villaraigosa was criticized via mailer for his “pocho Spanish.”

Nowadays, many Chicanos wear their “pocho” label as a badge of honor.

It wasn’t until his father’s death that Esparza, now a food writer and expert on Latin American cuisines, began to teach himself the language through dictionaries and traveling to Mexico to see his grandparents.

Esparza, a self-described “pocho orgulloso” (proud pocho), said he’s accepted that his Spanish isn’t perfect.

“It’s not about the language itself, it’s about how it brings you closer to your communities,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if you’re old, doesn’t matter to speak with an accent.”

This story was originally published April 8, 2021 at 5:00 AM.