note: the original version of this piece was written in spanish. therefore, this translation doesn’t hold the same meaning, (which is the entire argument of this letter). you can read it here. i wrote this one with my best friend and it means the world to me that i have the privilege to write something so close to our hearts together. thank you for being here. happy new year. i hope 2025 is good to you <3

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about my relationship with languages. Born and raised in Colombia, spanish has been the language I have known since I could understand the meaning of words.

English came much later, in my adolescence.

Like many others, I was told from an early age that being bilingual opened doors. In my experience, it has. Speaking another language, especially a "universal" one has allowed me to meet new people and have new experiences. I have traveled and made strong connections with people from other places, who have become longtime friends that I cherish. It has allowed me to have job opportunities that I could not have if I could not speak it fluently. More importantly, english has given me the opportunity to express emotions that in spanish I find difficult to vocalize.

Let me explain. Spanish is the language I have known all my life; it is the one I think and dream in. It is the one I use to communicate with my family and loved ones. Speaking in my native language feels as easy as breathing. But, ever since I learned to communicate in english fluently, beyond an academic or work environment, there was a shift in my brain.

The moment I started writing and reading in english created a turning point. Now, there are two versions of myself, converging and understanding each other most of the time but clashing nonetheless.

When I talk about my emotions in english, I detach from the shame and pain caused by vulnerability. My brain understands that these emotions are real, but by explaining them in english, they feel more distant. As if they are not mine, or if they are mine, they are from another version of me. A more confident version.

This phenomenon of bilinguals finding it easier to express emotions in their second language has been the subject of study in psycholinguistics for years. In part, this is often attributed to various psychological, emotional, and sociocultural factors that differentiate emotional resonance and cognitive processing between a native language and a second language. Several studies show that bilingual people manifest more intense emotional reactions when using their first language than their second language. Sayuri Hayakawa1, argues that the context in which we learn language matters. She argues, “Your native language is acquired from your family, from your friends, from television..It becomes infused with all these emotions.”

I find that her reasoning fits perfect with my experience. Spanish flows out of my mouth with ease. But when I’m dealing with overwhelming emotions, and I’m surrounded by people who speak english I find myself wanting to use it to explain how I feel. My words hold less weight this way. English acts like a suit of armor that protects me. It keeps my most sensitive and vulnerable parts safe. It gives me comfort.

Last year, I read Babel by R.F. Kuang, a novel that talks about the complexity of translation, the importance of languages, and how these issues are more political than one would commonly think. While reading it, I learned that the act of translation is one of destruction or alteration. Words when translated from one language to another, go through a process of transmutation. This act destroys the original version and creates a new one, which holds certain correlation, but does not always manage to convey the same meaning.

When I write or speak in English, a new reality is created. Those feelings and thoughts that I find difficult to explain in my mother tongue go through a process of metamorphosis. I shape them to my willing and emotionally distance myself from their meaning as a defense mechanism that allows me to express my emotions without feeling exposed because of my vulnerability. But, this act is counterproductive. By choosing to speak about sensitive subjects on my second language, I am denying myself the opportunity to feel my emotions to its fullest. I am denying myself the beautiful and painful act of complete honesty.

Although I have much to thank english for, I cannot deny that, to a certain degree, the ease with which I can talk about topics that I struggle with in my native language has to do with the dominance of english universally. My mind has been colonized, and now I find difficult to communicate hard feelings in my native tongue.

When I created this publication, it didn't even occur to me to do it in spanish; I always knew I wanted to write it in english and didn't question why. After several months of being here and having conversations about this topic with my childhood best friend, I started to think that this is a much bigger issue than I thought. On one hand, I want to be read, and with Substack being an english-dominated platform, there is a certain fear of being part of the minority who writes in a different language, thus reducing the number of people my writing can reach.

On the other hand, and related to what I discussed at the beginning, it is much easier for me to write in english than in spanish, because of the type of content I write. My writing is a mix between diaristic, confessional and extremely self-conscious. Hence, it's easier for me to share with the internet my personal dilemmas, and more contradictory thoughts in the language with which I have a more distant emotional connection. Besides, many people who know me in real life don't read english and therefore can't read me. Writing in english not only allows me to lift that emotional weight I feel when writing about personal topics, but it also offers me a certain level of privacy, without having to lie or hide my identity.

But it doesn't just come down to my writing. English permeates every bit of the content I consume and the art I enjoy. It's in the movies I watch, the music I listen to, the books I read, the artists I admire. I can't escape it.

This next part was written by Mafe, one of my best friends.

Since the beginning of the year, I have been questioning two things: why I consume content mostly in English and why I want to be recognized for my work in a language that is not my mother tongue. While the first question can be answered with the fact that it is easier to find sources, information, and thousands of other topics in English as it is the most dominant language in the world, I don't want to focus on that.

My particular experience is more related to a lack of exposure to certain aspects of my culture, the internet access I have had since I was 10, and who I am surrounded by.

Since I was a teenager, I have had access to social media. I have been part of fandoms for most of my life; these interests allowed me to connect with people similar to me, and although now we do not have the same interests, we still maintain the use of “Spanglish” to communicate, and the consumption of art and media mostly made in English.

This train of thought led me to have the desire to find content in Spanish that related to my tastes and I could relate to.

I am someone who is constantly consuming different types of content ranging from music and books to art and videos; however, since I was a teenager, I have focused on enjoying things that were built and created outside of my country, a fact that now in my adulthood I find shameful.

So, while talking with Luisa about this, we came to the conclusion that part of the reason we feel dominated by the massive consumption of things in English is because we haven't found content made in our country that makes us feel represented. A fact we have no one to reproach but ourselves, due to a lack of sense of belonging within our culture, and because what is popular or mainstream in our country does not represent who we are.

But, what do I do when the quick and easy access to things in English starts to feel like a betrayal to where I come from?

In her essay, BTS, and other victims of the english language. Ayan Artan, mentions something so powerful that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about:

“i do not dream in somali. i dream in english. you have to understand that admitting even this feels like a betrayal. the language of my subconscious is the language of my oppressor. english owns even my spirit.”

Knowing English has allowed me job opportunities that I would not have had before; it has allowed me to expand my knowledge and given me the chance to read more diverse authors and made me feel that I have a certain kind of status. But for years it made me stop cherishing what is my own and led me to favour what it isn’t.

Although, my reason for writing in English is to reach larger, more diverse audiences and to do cultural journalism that is different from what it is mainstream in my country; writing in English, or even speaking it in my daily life feels like I am betraying a part of me. It feels like I am giving a certain kind of power to an invisible force. The force of imperialism.

That's why I set myself the goal of finding content and art to consume in Spanish that was of my interest, as well as start sharing what I feel, uncomfortable emotions and all, outside of spaces like therapy, in Spanish.

As humans, we are are in constant evolution; re connecting with the language I have been surrounded by all my life has helped me discover new parts of myself.

This does not mean that I want to stop learning other languages or discovering art from different countries; what I long for is to stop feeling that I am losing what is mine, what I grew up with, and what is engraved in me, even though for a long time I fought against it.

I don't have a concrete solution of how I want to make this feeling of betrayal disappear completely, but I can say that in these months that I have chosen to look for new artistic, musical, and literary works to enjoy, I have connected with a part of me that I didn't know existed, and for that, I feel tremendous joy.

Recommendations from us

Albums

1. TODOS LOS DÍAS EL MISMO DÍA by LATIN MAFIA: This album is a mix of genres that surprises in every song. It is one of the most interesting productions I listened to last year and one of the groups I am excited to see what they create in the future. Favorite songs: vivo si me exiges and pero me estoy acabando.

2. ya no somos los mismos by Elsa and Elmar: From love to its destruction, this album feels like listening to a story from beginning to end. An honest production that just makes you want to listen to it again and again. Favorite songs: corazones negros, cómo acaba and último y primero.

3. ¿Quién trae las cornetas? by Rawayana: I discovered Rawayana this year, and their music was one of the most interesting things I've heard in the last few months. With their mix of rhythms on this album, they invite you to have fun, celebrate music and life. Favorite songs: La Tormenta, Brindo, and Consciencia.

4. Los mejores años by Joaquina: Joaquina is one of those artists that is very easy to connect with; her lyrics bring a message that can resonate with you, especially if you are in your 20s. A new artist that I am very excited to learn what she brings to the table in the future. Favorite songs: Rabia and Blanco y Negro.

Books

1. Elena Sabe by Claudia Piñiero: This book tells the story of a mother dealing with the death of her daughter and investigating the circumstances in which she died. It is quite short but powerful, and best to read it without knowing much, letting yourself be surprised by the outcome. Netflix made a movie inspired on it titled the same, but I haven’t watched it yet.

2. Conjunto Vacío by Verónica Gerber: Conjunto Vacío, tells a story about heartbreak, pain, art, and oblivion. It is a book that catchs you from the first page not only for its words but because of the different ways of narration and intertwining small texts and illustrations. A book with a world of its own.

3. Lo que no tiene nombre by Piedad Bonnett: To read Piedad Bonnett is to feel pain and nostalgia. In Lo que no tiene nombre, we relive one of the hardest moments in her life; the loss of her son. It is a book that after months of reading it, I find myself thinking about constantly, and every time I remember it I can't wait to read more of Piedad Bonnett's unforgettable words.

4. Todo Muere Salvo El Mar by María del Mar Ramón: A book as beautiful as sad. It talks about loss, death, and how letting go is sometimes the best of decisions. María del Mar Ramón, has a particular way of narrating, and I’m looking forward to what’s coming next.

Films

1. Cuando acecha la maldad by Demián Rugna: Two brothers who live in the countryside have to deal with an evil spirit that possses other people's bodies. These two are tasked with killing the demon but they end up worsening an already bad situation. The special effects and the acting make this a different and entertaining possession movie. Modern horror is emerging in Latin America and that excites me.

2. Medianeras by Leandro Martinez: One of those films that feels like a hug to the soul. It tells the story of two lonely people who live across each other, and who cross paths on several occasions but never see each other. It is a beautiful romantic drama and one of my favorite movies. Also, the cinematography shows the daily life of Buenos Aires in a very intimate and warm way. I love almost everything about it.

With love,

Luisa and Mafe <3