Last Christmas in Mexico, my sister-in-law was quick to notice how I adapted when speaking with locals: “you talk like them,” she said. She wasn’t wrong. Part of me does it deliberately: I want to be understood, but I also want to show that I see them, that I know their words.

In the U.S., they’re “not American enough” because they speak Spanish. Back in their home countries, their Spanish doesn’t match the monolingual norm. They live between two versions of themselves, just as I do.

Language is one of the strongest markers of belonging. Our accent and vocabulary reveal our place of origin—and often our class, education, and community ties. When we alter them, people notice. Those who have experienced it understand. Those who haven’t may see it as “changing who you are.”