I remember it clearly; I was halfway through high school Spanish, and I was amazed at how many things I could pick up and start using right away. My Spanish teacher was having us practice simple conversations in pairs — she would call on students, one after another, and they would either talk together, or she would pair them off. When she called on me, she wanted me to introduce myself and tell her a couple of sentences about myself to the person I was paired with. The words started flowing out of me very naturally and with little hesitation. I could greet my partner, ask him if he was doing well, and ask a couple of questions about his life as if I had known him for years.

But what really struck me that day was the confidence I felt talking in Spanish. I had no idea that I could be confident in a foreign language that quickly, given that I had only been studying it for a little while.

But it was more than that. I was able to speak Spanish with ease and rarely second-guess myself. In fact, when I did get stuck, I didn’t freeze; I continued the conversation. I found this particularly surprising since Yoruba is the primary language my parents speak to each other and to me at home. However, unlike Spanish, I learned Yoruba in an informal way by listening to my parents speak to me in English and picking up a few Yoruba phrases here and there. Therefore, the realization that I could be learning a new language so comfortably while still struggling to speak the language that connects me to my family and my cultural roots was both unusual and uncomfortable. I felt guilty for feeling this way; I couldn’t help but wonder why a language I’ve only been studying in a classroom for such a brief period of time could feel more natural to me than the language associated with my family’s background and my own cultural identity.

That experience caused me to think a lot about my relationship to language and identity. Although I was born and raised in the U.S., I have a strong sense of responsibility to learn and speak Yoruba because it represents who I am culturally and my connection to my parents’ culture. Language is not just a means of communication; it is also a vehicle for carrying history, tradition and a sense of community. Since realizing that, I have made a conscious decision to use Yoruba when I speak with my family as much as possible. I also make an effort to ask my parents questions about words I don’t know and try to learn more through our conversations as opposed to sitting quietly. At the same time, I will continue to work on my Spanish using apps on my phone to keep from losing the momentum I have gained, knowing that there is room for me to learn multiple languages simultaneously instead of one competing with the other.

All in all, that experience has given me a new perspective on learning a new language and I realize now that that experience was not only about learning a new language, it was about discovering how language can give you the confidence and ability to express yourself as well as your identity. That experience showed me that confidence is built through practice and exposure, and that identity is a part of who you are that you continually create and strengthen over time. That discovery inspired me to reclaim my cultural roots, while at the same time embracing the excitement of learning new languages, and that has allowed me to develop a greater understanding of myself.