By Roman Soto
Growing up, I was straddled by two completely different cultures: American and Salvadoran. Often, it felt like a tug of war of which one had more influence on my personal life. For many first and second generation Salvadoran Americans, or just Latino Ammericans in general, there’s an unrelenting pressure to balance the vibrant, deeply rooted culture of El Salvador and the expectations of American society. More often than not, we end up feeling like we don’t fully belong in either world.
In American society, Salvadoran customs, foods, accents—or even our parents/grandparents’ accents—can set us apart. Our pupusas, a traditional food in the region that dates back centuries, are met with confused stares in lunchrooms, and our Spanish conversations draw conjectural eyes. Labeled as “too foreign” despite our citizenship. Then, when we visit a Salvadoran family or hang around traditional family and friends, the finger-pointing shifts. The labels of “white washed,” “gringos,” or “too American” now stick; having a slight accent and not knowing every cultural inside reference or traditional expression renders us outsiders there as well. We shouldn’t be ostracized by our heritage, and yet it’s as if American customs threaten everything despite your knowledge and practice
This cultural limbo births the identity crisis. If both of our worlds are relegating us unheard-ever-stuck in a limbo identity, we question ourselves, our roots, our authenticity. Sometimes we are put into the unfair position of having to prove our identities to both sides- an exhausting task nobody should have to perform.
In the midst of this middle path, an opportunity presents itself. We become bridges between cultures. Knowing two worlds gives us a unique perspective on both societies.