From the CPI.
Kisha Cedeño remembers being 12 years old when she felt embarrassed for the first time due to her lack of Spanish proficiency. She was in sixth grade at Juan Pablo Duarte School in Washington Heights, New York, and in her Spanish class, she was assigned to write and pronounce a word in this language in front of her classmates.
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“I have to think of the easiest word,” she said to herself, full of fear.
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When she stood in front of the blackboard, she wrote “soupa” instead of “sopa”, the word she had chosen. Her classmates laughed at her mistake and Cedeño, feeling embarrassed and in tears, ran to the bathroom to hide. Even today, at 48 years old, the woman of Puerto Rican descent, born and raised in New York, is still questioned about which words she can or cannot say in Spanish, a reminder of the cultural expectations that weigh on her.
“For years, I felt not mastering Spanish as a burden, like a stain. But now, I fight against that. I embrace the beauty of being Puerto Rican and learning Spanish,” says Cedeño, who still resides in Washington Heights, a neighborhood in Manhattan with a significant Hispanic presence.
While the United States has one of the largest Spanish-speaking populations in the world, not all Hispanics born in the country can converse in Spanish, which leads individuals like Cedeño to reflect on their identity and seek ways to preserve the legacy of their Puerto Rican roots.
In 2023, a study by the Pew Research Center revealed that, although 75% of Latinos speak Spanish, only a third of third-generation Hispanics can maintain a fluent conversation in the language. According to Jens Manuel Krogstad, editor of demographic trends studies at this organization, this scenario highlights the challenges of preserving Spanish among the new generations of children of Hispanic parents in the United States.
In the case of Puerto Ricans in New York, although Spanish is still present in Boricua households, its use has decreased with each generation, reflecting a process of linguistic assimilation in a predominantly English-speaking environment.
The 2010 report The Latino Population in New York City found that 24% of Latinos in the city did not speak or did not speak English well, while 76% spoke it well or very well. The same report reflected a decrease in households where Spanish was predominantly spoken, suggesting a shift in the use of Spanish across generations. Although the study does not break down data specifically for Puerto Ricans, its findings allow for observing general trends on linguistic dynamics within the Hispanic community in the city.
Linguist and professor at the Graduate School of the City University of New York (CUNY), Ricardo Otheguy, is one of the scholars who questions the idea that mastery of Spanish defines Puerto Rican identity in the diaspora. For him, language is just one of the multiple elements that shape identity.
“It is a mistake to think that without language there is no identity. Language is just one of the pillars, along with food, music, community, and politics,” he explains.
Otheguy also warns against the idea that not speaking Spanish “perfectly” is a flaw. He explains that this perception ignores the reality of Puerto Ricans in the diaspora, who grow up in a bilingual environment and adapt the language to their context.
“There is no reason for Puerto Ricans in New York to speak Spanish like the natives of the island,” he emphasizes, while pointing out that the Puerto Rican identity transcends these limited perceptions.
On the other hand, Krogstad explains that “Spanish is an important part of what it means to be Hispanic or Latino for many people. [As part of the study] we not only ask about language proficiency, but also about daily experiences and how these intertwine with identity. Although we have found that the majority of Latinos consider it important for future generations to speak Spanish, we also observe a gradual decline in its use with each generation.”
Although the terms “Hispanic” and “Latino” are often used interchangeably, they do not mean the same thing. “Hispanic” generally refers to people from Spanish-speaking countries in the Americas, while “Latino” also includes people from Latin American countries where languages like Portuguese are spoken, such as Brazil. Put simply, Hispanics are Latinos, but not all Latinos are Hispanics.
Among Hispanics, the decline in Spanish proficiency has led to terms like “No Sabo Kids,” a label that, although originally derogatory, has been redefined by young people of Hispanic descent who do not fully master Spanish. The phrase, born from the common mistake of saying “no sabo” instead of “no sé,” is used to question the authenticity of those who do not speak Spanish fluently.
However, platforms like TikTok have provided space for these young people to reject the stigma and assert their Latino identity on their own terms, challenging the notion that speaking “perfect” Spanish is a requirement to belong to the Hispanic community.
According to Mike Mena, a Mexican-American researcher and assistant professor at Brooklyn College, linguistic hierarchies in the United States have historically positioned English as a symbol of prestige, success, education, and economic progress, while Spanish is relegated or perceived as a “lesser” or less valuable language. This phenomenon, he explains, is a result of broader social and political structures that prioritize assimilation to English as a path towards an idealized cultural model.
“Most language education revolves around the idea of English and Spanish as two encapsulated languages. The division exists, but people are whole beings who are not divided between languages or identities,” emphasizes the professor.
In addition, these dynamics are deeply influenced by social and economic perceptions that prioritize English, according to Mena.
“This type of identity may have a brighter future,' so we start behaving according to this standard. It does not surprise me when a parent internalizes the idea that maybe English comes with a more promising future,” says the academic.
The language in Hispanic households in New York
Based on 2020 Census data, the Center for Puerto Rican Studies (CENTRO) at Hunter College presented an analysis that indicates Spanish continues to be predominant among Hispanic families in the Bronx, where almost half of the population speaks it at home, consolidating it as the county with the highest presence of the language. Queens and Manhattan follow in the percentage of Spanish speakers, while Brooklyn and Staten Island have lower proportions, as it is more common to find residents who speak languages other than Spanish in these counties.
Although Spanish continues to be an important language for many, its transmission varies among generations in an environment where English holds a significant place. While the CENTRO’s analysis does not directly quantify how families are facing these changes, its findings allow us to observe the coexistence of Spanish with English in Hispanic families —including Puerto Rican ones— especially according to generation and social context.
Cedeño began to relearn Spanish at the age of 19, while preparing for motherhood. Her tutor was her maternal grandmother, Iluminada Galarza, a Puerto Rican who emigrated from Yauco to New York in the 1950s, amidst the great migration that led thousands of Puerto Ricans to settle in the city.
“My parents didn’t speak much Spanish. I spoke very little and didn’t understand it, but when I was pregnant with my son, my grandmother told me: ‘When you enter my house, it’s like stamping your passport. You will not speak English.’ That became a process in which I learned from her,” Cedeño recalls.
That experience with his grandmother strengthened his connection with the language and allowed him to reconnect with his cultural heritage and transmit Puerto Rican identity to future generations.
From Puerto Rico to New York: language and migration
In 1917, about 15 years after English was established as the official language in Puerto Rico as part of the Foraker Act, Puerto Ricans were imposed with U.S. citizenship, which facilitated a migratory wave to New York, especially after the Great Depression in 1929. This migration provided labor for the city’s industrialization and employment for those seeking better living conditions. However, for many, it did not mean social or economic advancement, but rather the continuity of precariousness in a new environment.
In this adaptation process, Spanish and English competed, and sometimes merged in daily communication, giving rise to the identity of “Nuyorican”. The term, which combines “New York” and “Puerto Rican”, refers to Puerto Ricans born or raised in the city, who, in places like El Barrio (East Harlem) and the South Bronx, shared cultural ties with the African American community due to their African and Caribbean heritage.
This proximity not only defined their location but also influenced the formation of their identity. For Puerto Rican professor Arnaldo Cruz Malavé, an expert in literature and Latin culture in New York, the use of Spanish among the generations of the diaspora does not compete with English; it coexists inevitably, and often with an emotional charge.
“Spanish continues to be a living presence for second-generation [Puerto Ricans] because it defines their human relationships, such as the bond with their grandparents or certain expressions that do not have equivalents in English. Saying ‘bendición’ is not the same in English. It has an emotional and cultural strength that cannot be translated,” emphasizes Cruz Malavé.
The migration of Puerto Ricans established settlement patterns that, although evident, have evolved over time. While the Puerto Rican population has historically been present in the city’s districts, their proportion relative to other Latino groups varies in each of them. According to the 2020 Census, Puerto Ricans represent the largest percentage of the Hispanic population in Staten Island, followed by the Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Queens. These data, collected in the study by CENTRO, reflect how, in recent years, there has been growth in areas with lower Hispanic diversity, where Puerto Ricans constitute the majority within the Latino population.
Preserving roots beyond words
The emotional connection with the language and culture is evident in key community spaces such as the Loisaida Center, a pillar in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, the historic home of a vibrant Puerto Rican community. This neighborhood, known for welcoming immigrants and working-class communities, became a cultural epicenter for the Puerto Rican diaspora.
The term “Loisaida,” a phonetic adaptation in Spanglish of Lower East Side, is the name that Puerto Ricans in New York have given to this neighborhood, a symbol of their cultural and social strength.
Gladys Jiménez, administrative assistant at the Loisaida Center, emphasizes how, through art and community resistance, they help the new generations reconnect with their roots and find a sense of belonging.
“Our workshops and events, like La Cocina de Loisaida and the Loisaida Festival, not only celebrate our culture, but also create spaces where young people can feel proud of their roots through art, music, and food," explains Jiménez.
“Working in Loisaida made me feel more connected to my Latinidad. I grew up without knowing about bomba or plena, but here I was able to reconnect with my roots and share that with other young people,” acknowledges Jiménez.
According to Beatriz Lado, associate professor of Spanish at Lehman College and the Graduate Center of CUNY, the rediscovery of the cultural and linguistic richness of Spanish begins at home. This process is collaborative, she explains, because it has a multiplying effect that transforms both the learner and their family and community environment.
“Lado asserts that linking projects involving conversations with the family not only becomes a process in which everyone relearns and reconnects, but also allows students to acquire knowledge and blend it with their family stories, creating a powerful tool for mutual education.”
For young people like Christopher Soto, son of Cedeño born and raised in New York, the Puerto Rican identity transcends the realm of Spanish. For example, that identity lives in the roots of the family traditions that his mother has passed on to him, especially during the Christmas celebrations.
“To be Puerto Rican is to embrace my roots without losing who I am. I maintain family traditions in celebrations and food, and plan to pass them on to my future family in a natural way. My ethnicity is part of who I am, but it doesn’t define everything; I find the balance between my roots and my personal interests,” says Soto in English.
Although cultural identity can be complex in the diaspora, Soto asserts that language is an essential link to preserve Puerto Rican history and traditions for future generations.
“Ironically, (even though I don’t master Spanish) I would like my children to at least try to learn Spanish, or to keep my traditions with them... Preserving our history and our language is a big part of ensuring that others cannot minimize or undermine our culture,” he says.
According to Mena, preserving cultural identity in the diaspora requires reimagining language barriers as opportunities to innovate in family and community connections.
“Families do not have to completely master Spanish to feel connected to their heritage. The important thing is how they use the cultural and linguistic resources they already possess to stay rooted in their traditions,” argues Mena.
The linguist also points out that, in many cases, Puerto Ricans and Hispanics in the diaspora face both internal and external pressures to fit into rigid linguistic standards. However, he emphasizes that the key does not lie in measuring cultural authenticity through language proficiency, but in how individuals and families find unique ways to transmit values, stories, and customs.
“Language is not just words, it is a vehicle for emotions, connections, and cultural creativity,” he states.
The expert also suggests that integrating Spanish, even partially, into family’s everyday activities such as music, food, or celebrations, can be a powerful way to keep cultural roots alive.
Translingualism as a linguistic alternative
Translingualism recognizes that people integrate linguistic resources in a fluid and creative way. It occurs both in the family environment and in the community.
In the educational environment, Mena points out that “most learning revolves around encapsulated languages: English and Spanish. Translingualism challenges that.” This practice promotes inclusive learning and provides educational institutions with the opportunity to recognize the cultural and linguistic diversity of their communities.
For Mena, in the context of the Puerto Rican diaspora in New York, translingualism has been important “to preserve cultural heritage without limiting creativity or linguistic flexibility.”
Translingualism describes how people integrate different linguistic resources in their daily communication. However, its implementation, in cases like Spanglish, poses significant challenges.
“Translingualism faces challenges such as racism, classism, and a lack of understanding in public policy. However, it remains a powerful tool for challenging those barriers. In families like Christopher’s, it can strengthen culture and bonds, although it requires resources, willingness, and constant work,” adds Mena.
In the community, identity is reinforced
Community organizations have been key in promoting spaces where linguistic diversity is valued and reinforced through art, education, and social participation.
In the Bronx, the group The Point uses art as a tool for affirming Puerto Rican identity. According to Hatuey Ramos Fermín, director of Arts and Education at the organization, art preserves the Puerto Rican identity in the Hunts Point area, south of the Bronx, through bomba and photography classes, which allow young people to reconnect with their roots.
“Art is life. It is the way we define who we are,” says Ramos Fermín.
As part of The Point’s initiatives, community leader highlights the Fish Parade, a symbolic event in the Bronx that combines cultural celebration with community protest. “We want the community to reclaim the water and the river as their own,” explains Ramos Fermín, referring to the importance of recovering and preserving the neighborhood’s natural resources, such as the Bronx River, which has historically been a focus of industrial pollution.
In Brooklyn, the organization UPROSE promotes intergenerational leadership and climate justice. Part of their work is to teach young people how to identify power dynamics and social dynamics in spaces where important decisions are made. According to their executive director, Elizabeth Yeampierre, “we don’t treat young people as ‘the future’. They are leaders now. We teach them history, organizing tools, and how to read a room politically.”
Yeampierre emphasizes the importance of collaboration between young people from the diaspora and Puerto Rico, especially after disasters like Hurricane Maria in 2017. “There is a transformative power in this collaboration if we respect the needs of each side,” she states.
After the hurricane, Yeampierre gave a talk at the University of Puerto Rico, where she found an openness to dialogue among the students. “The people on the island know what they need. They don’t need us to tell them how to think or develop their land,” she emphasizes.
According to linguist Ricardo Otheguy, bilingual education in the public school system of New York represents a collective achievement of the Puerto Rican community. Unlike other immigrant communities that relied on private initiatives, such as Hebrew schools that taught Jewish history, Hebrew, and the learning of the parashá or Hebrew biblical passage on Sundays, Puerto Ricans took a different route. The need to prioritize work and income made it difficult to develop similar private educational programs.
But leaders like Antonia Pantoja and Pedro Pedraza played a fundamental role in the fight to establish accessible bilingual programs for the Puerto Rican population. Through ASPIRA and the Centro de Estudios Puertorriqueños, respectively, they promoted bilingual education as a pillar of educational and cultural equity. Their efforts not only helped preserve the language but also strengthened intergenerational and cultural ties within the diaspora in the city.
However, despite the historical advancements in the implementation of bilingual education in New York, significant challenges persist, such as the lack of sufficient dual language teaching programs in the public school system and the shortage of qualified teachers to deliver them, according to the New York State Association for Bilingual Education (NYSABE), an advocacy organization for students in the city’s public school system.
This effort to preserve the language becomes even more relevant in the current context, following the executive order signed by President Donald Trump that designates English as the official language of the United States, posing new challenges for the preservation of languages such as Spanish within migrant communities.
According to the Demographics At-a-Glance report from the New York City Department of Education (DOE), during the 2023-2024 school year, 148,500 students received English as a Second Language (ESL) lessons. However, less than 20% are enrolled in bilingual programs, either transitional education or dual language immersion.
Otheguy warns that the current supply of bilingual education is still insufficient, as it does not meet the demand and faces structural limitations that hinder its expansion.
It ensures that language also acts as an indicator of discrimination, so inclusive approaches that celebrate cultural and linguistic diversity are necessary instead of marginalizing it.
Speaking the language, strengthening the identity
Despite the years of embarrassment and tension surrounding his handling of Spanish, Cedeño has found in the language a bridge to his heritage and a source of personal pride.
“It is my love, my heartbeat. Sometimes, I think and dream in Spanish, and that makes me feel like I am reconnecting with something bigger than myself,” Cedeño shares with emotion.
Upon listening to Bad Bunny’s most recent album, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, which has become a global conversation topic about what it means to be Puerto Rican within and outside the island, Cedeño felt identified. The album opens with the song NUEVAYoL, a tribute to the Nuyorican diaspora.
“I cried, danced, and felt proud to understand part of the lyrics,” says Cedeño, who describes the experience as a reconnection with her roots through music. “[Listening to the album] confirmed to me that I understand my language better. It made me so happy to comprehend it and navigate it with such ease.”