Why I Write In Two Languages

A few years ago, if someone had asked me what language I would write my books and articles in, I probably would have answered without hesitation:

—Spanish.

After all, Spanish is my native language. It's the language of my childhood, my parents, my neighborhood, my homeland, and most of the people who have shaped my life. It's the language in which I learned to tell stories and in which I still often dream.

However, today I write in both Spanish and English.

And while part of that decision is strategic, another part is deeply personal.

A Practical Reason

Let's start with the simple answer.

Writing in two languages allows me to reach more people.

Spanish is spoken by hundreds of millions of people worldwide. So is English. Publishing in both languages opens doors that would otherwise remain closed.

As a freelance writer, that makes sense.

Each book requires time, effort, and years of accumulated experience. If a story or an idea can serve readers in more than one language, why limit it unnecessarily?

But that explanation, while true, is incomplete.

If it all came down to numbers, I probably wouldn't continue doing this.

The main reason is something else.

The reality of many Puerto Ricans

Puerto Rico has a peculiar relationship with languages.

We live between two linguistic worlds that sometimes cooperate and sometimes clash.

There are those who prefer Spanish and barely use English.

There are those who feel more comfortable in English.

And there are many, myself included, who inhabit both spaces simultaneously.

Not always perfectly.

Not always without friction.

But certainly in a real way.

During different stages of my life, I have read, worked, studied, and thought in both languages. Over time, I discovered something curious:

I don't think exactly the same way in Spanish as I do in English.

The same person observes the same world, but from slightly different perspectives.

The Language of the Heart

If I had to choose which of the two languages feels closer to my emotional identity, I would have to say Spanish.

Spanish is my parents' language.

The language of family conversations.

The language of Puerto Rico.

It's the language in which I heard many of the stories that shaped me.

When I write in Spanish, I feel like I'm sitting in a Puerto Rican living room chatting with friends.

The words flow differently.

The images are different.

Even the humor is often different.

Spanish connects me to my roots.

And roots matter.

A tree can extend its branches far, but it needs to know where it's planted.

The Language of Exploration

English occupies another place in my life.

It's no less important.

It's simply different.

Over the years, English became the language of much of my reading, many of my literary influences, and a good portion of my imagination.

It's also the language in which I encountered other cultures, other ways of thinking, and other narrative traditions.

Interestingly, many of my philosophical reflections first come to me in English.

Some ideas seem to emerge more experimentally when I think about them in that language.

I don't know exactly why this happens.

Perhaps because much of the speculative literature I've read throughout my life was originally written in English.

Perhaps because for years I was exposed to different conversations, books, and contexts in that language.

Or perhaps because the human brain is more complex than we imagine.

Whatever the reason, I've learned to accept that both are part of me.

What is Lost

It's not all advantages.

Writing in two languages comes at a cost.

Sometimes I feel like I live between two shores.

Not completely here.

Not completely there.

There are expressions that work perfectly in Spanish but lose their power when translated.

There are ideas that arise naturally in English but sound strange when I try to translate them word for word.

Sometimes I feel I have to split myself in two to inhabit both worlds.

And I think many Puerto Ricans will understand exactly what I mean.

Our history has made us, for better or for worse, inhabitants of a cultural border.

What is Gained

But something very valuable is also gained.

Perspective.

Each language is a different way of organizing human experience.

When we learn another language, we don't just learn new words.

We learn new ways of observing.

New questions.

New sensitivities.

New ways of understanding what it means to be human.

Writing in two languages constantly forces me to remember that no culture has a monopoly on wisdom.

They all have something to teach.

They all have something to learn.

And that awareness has helped me become a more open, more patient, and more curious person.

Two Narrator's Voices

Sometimes people ask me if I feel I have two identities.

The answer is no.

I have only one identity.

What happens is that this identity has learned to express itself in two different ways.

The same man writes both texts.

The same man tells the stories.

The same man asks himself the same questions about life, faith, truth, suffering, hope, and the human condition.

The only thing that changes is the language he uses to begin the conversation.

And in the end, that's what writing has always been for me: a conversation.

Sometimes that conversation happens in Spanish.

Sometimes it happens in English.

But in both cases, I'm trying to do exactly the same thing:

Build a bridge between two human beings through words.

And if I'm fortunate enough to be able to build that bridge in two languages, then I consider that one of the most interesting blessings life has given me.