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In El Alto’s commercial hubs along St. Nicholas Avenue and Broadway, the amount of Spanish signage may be overwhelming to some of our non-Spanish speaking neighbors.
We all know and recognize El Alto for its ethnic beauty. Today it’s Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, my Colombian self, it’s a Latino melting pot that simmers with color, accents, and culture, it’s what makes our neighborhood a vibrant community of different cultures living side by side. Before, it was the Irish, the Jews, whatever the ethnic stronghold has been business and family enterprise has been the backbone of our community.
As I walked down the commercial explosion that is St. Nicholas Avenue, and Broadway all along the W.180’s, I took notice of the signage on commercial spaces that offer everything from avocados and fruit, to clothing stores, beauty supplies, hair salons, umpteen pharmacies, the restaurants and shops. Some of the signs are written in Spanish and a few words of English, others are flanked in full bi-lingual translations of both, and some are only in English, or only in Spanish. So I wondered:
What if I couldn’t read their sign? Would I walk in there? Would I recruit a translator? Be too embarrassed and move along not bringing them any business?
Let the discussion begin.
As a Latina raised in a Spanish-only speaking household, I grew up watching my mother struggle to learn English, and saw her find comfort in finding a Spanish hairdresser, a familiar waitress, she even mastered spotting a Latino from miles.
Yet sometimes I grew frustrated at her reluctance to embrace English and adjusting to our new home, America. Later, I understood that her generation, our parent’s generation has a much harder time adjusting to such dramatic change.
I quickly learned English and kept my Spanish strong with the help of my abuela. I embraced “Spanglish,” because sometimes love sounds better Spanish, and some things just need to be described in English. I had the luxury of not having to pick one.
But in El Alto, it could very much be a matter of choice for some of our neighbors.
English only sign on Broadway.
What if the Spanish hair salon is loosing out on business because my silk-haired girlfriend would like to get a haircut from the master I told her my Spanish hairdresser is, but she’s a bit intimidated that the language barrier will get her red highlights when all she wanted was a strawberry blonde hue, and to avert disaster she takes her business somewhere else.
Perhaps our business owners should be mindful that we live in a multicultural, multilingual neighborhood. That my Irish friend likes rice and beans, she just can’t read your menu, and that when I go into the Russian mini market on Broadway I can only get as far as “Spasibo” Спасибо, [thank you] but I still would like to buy your wonderful pickled tomatoes and black tea, all things I love.
I’ve heard fellow Alto residents complain about the fact that some of our community members don’t like to explore the neighborhood beyond the area where they live. And maybe that’s because they don’t feel all that welcome. Maybe it’s time for us, the multilingual, and the bicultural to be better neighbors. Help la abuela out when she can’t understand the English bus sign, and help our girl get her rice and beans on when she wants them.
There’s plenty of room for debate. And there’s legislation that’s been in the works to mandate that all commercial signs read in English. Whatever the reason, whether we want to attach it to a matter of public safety, the “official language” conundrum, or an issue of financial cost, in the end we can reduce everything to what should be an Alto way of living: Let’s be more aware, less polarizing and more welcoming, more tolerant of our melting pot. The pot that simmers with color, accents, and culture.
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