A Telenovela and the Rediscovery of a Language

By Samantha Soria

There’s not much I remember from my childhood, but from what I can recollect, I never seem to forget the first time I had to act as a translator. 

I was in first or second grade, and a new student joined my class. When she arrived, my teacher informed us that she only spoke Spanish. As one of the few Latinx kids in the class, I soon found myself given the role of confidante and translator. At first, for a small moment, I remember feeling confident that translating would be a breeze for me. But when recess rolled around, as my new classmate and I walked around the track together, pausing at a small playground, the only sentence I could form in broken Spanish, a gringo accent and improper use of grammar, was: Esta escuela es muy bien.

Although I was born in the U.S. and grew up with American pop culture, I was also raised in a Latin Colombian and Bolivian household. In my adolescent years, Spanish was a constant between my family and me, but as I got older, my relationship with Spanish became more complicated. This didn’t solely originate from one embarrassing moment in first grade. In fact, it stemmed from many moments I experienced growing up, especially from elementary to middle school.

In elementary school, I was teased by a classmate for bringing a Latin snack to a class party. It left me feeling alienated and disappointed in myself for not bringing ‘Chips Ahoy!’ like the rest of my classmates. I was also pushed to take ESL (English as a Second Language) lessons at my school even though I spoke English fluently. Being pulled out of class to read simple sentences from a flipbook left me confused and asking myself: They know I speak English, right? By the time I reached middle school, I found myself dealing with Latin stereotypes for the first time because of my last name and how I looked.

All of these experiences eventually reached a tipping point when I was in high school. I was taking a Spanish class that caused me so much anxiety I had to drop it and find another elective. I was ashamed of how I sounded when I tried speaking Spanish, embarrassed that I couldn’t roll my Rs. My self-criticism grew. How could I not roll my Rs? I’m half Colombian and half Bolivian; I should know how. When embarrassment and self-criticism mix, it creates self-doubt, and I found the need to conform and assimilate fully into American culture to fit in. Subconsciously, this created a distance between me and Spanish. It left me wanting nothing to do with the language.

Even though I wanted nothing to do with a language I was once fluent in, it was impossible to run away from it. On the contrary, I was constantly reunited with it through a telenovela I grew up with. 

Known as the most popular Latin American telenovelas in history, Yo soy Betty, la fea, is not only a staple in Colombian culture, but a show that my family and I have watched many times. Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I can faintly remember my mother laughing as she watched reruns. As I watched the show with her, I could only catch a few words, paying close attention to the actors’ body language to understand the storyline. 

Every once in a while, I would have to ask my mother what the actors were saying. Because my Spanish vocabulary was minimal, I was confused and silently frustrated. I was frustrated that I no longer understood Spanish like I once did. I was frustrated that I couldn’t fully engage with a show my mother adored. How could I connect with her? How could I connect with Colombia, the country where she was born and once called home and was half of my identity? I felt like I couldn’t because I had lost my relationship with Spanish.

As I entered my twenties and experienced a reconnection with my culture, rewatching Yo soy Betty, la fea was different. The journey of reconnecting with Spanish required vulnerability, something I avoided. It forced me to toss out the self-criticism I constantly placed on myself. It required me to make mistakes and not be embarrassed by them. When I rewatched Yo soy Betty, la fea with this new mindset, I fell back in love with a language I once lost. I was no longer confused. I no longer needed to ask my mother to translate. Instead, I understood each character fluently, quickly processing every word they spoke. But it was laughing at the Colombian sayings I once missed out on that meant the most.

My entire life, I listened to my mother call out or mutter Colombian phrases – ‘dichos’ as she calls them – only comprehending a few. As I rewatched Yo soy Betty, la fea again and again, with more knowledge of Spanish, I began to understand these ‘dichos’ at the rate my mother always had. It was so fulfilling. I was beginning my journey to becoming fluent again. 

Immersing myself in Yo soy Betty, la fea and rediscovering Spanish woke the part of my brain that had suppressed my knowledge of the language for so long. Because of the show, I’m now adding Spanish to my daily vocabulary, my gringo accent is slowly disappearing, rolling my Rs is no longer a struggle and the confidence I yearned to feel when I had to translate for a new classmate many years ago has built more and more. I owe so much of this transformation to one telenovela – something that had been a part of my entire life. ♦