Imagine: the Mexico men’s soccer team wins the Gold Cup. As a person from Mexico yourself, you’re proud to be there for this exciting moment. A player approaches you, shouting a sentence in Spanish. What did he say? Aren’t you supposed to know? Everyone is watching. This stressful experience encapsulates the cultural and personal impact of no sabo: those whose family identity clashes with the linguistic upbringing that has shaped them.
“No sabo” is a term primarily applied to second-generation Latinos who never received formal Spanish education. As a result, they may understand Spanish to a degree, but they have not achieved fluency, even though their families or communities may continue to speak Spanish. The above example at the Gold Cup is a real story—and it went viral, much to the chagrin of the young child involved. Viewers appeared in droves, chiding the gap between identity and language.
But what does “speaking” a language mean? How does it play into a person’s sense of self, and should it be a defining element of a person’s life?
What Does “Speaking” a Language Mean?
Some people have stronger opinions on the no sabo phenomenon than others, and this variation typically comes down to an understanding of what “speaking” a language means. Is it when an individual can read, write, and vocalize the language? When they can carry on a conversation? The boundaries are fuzzy at best, leaving many no sabo individuals facing unfair standards that they can rarely meet.
The Origins of No Sabo
The development of the no sabo demographic arose from multifaceted origins. In some families, use of Spanish fell out of favor due to the increasing need to integrate into an English-speaking society for work, school, and socialization. In others, systemic and community racism incentivized leaving behind one’s native language.
Continuing to preserve Spanish, especially in locations in which exposure to other speakers is limited, can gradually erode linguistic skills and opportunities. When the Gold Cup spectator failed to speak Spanish, commentators and viewers alike mocked or derided the family, scolding that they should not have raised a no sabo child. Why was the concept of a person not speaking Spanish so frowned upon?
The impact on culture
For many, no sabo equates to a cultural faux pas: that failing to speak Spanish erases that cultural identity. In fact, this concept is so prevalent that many no sabo individuals express shame about themselves—that they are not allowed to claim their Latino/a heritage, that cultural traditions are dying as a direct result of their “failures,” and that such integration with other languages has pulled them too far from their roots.
Redefining no sabo
For no sabo children, the shame and guilt can be substantial. The term “no sabo” itself is a mockery: it derives from the concept that novice Spanish speakers learn the common pattern of verbs (yo como, yo tengo, yo hablo) and assume that “I don’t know” conjugates to yo no sabo. However, the correct conjugation is yo no sé. Thus, the pejorative no sabo is a direct condescension meant to demean.
However, more people than ever are redefining their no sabo heritage, embracing their multicultural role in the world. By remaining lifelong learners who integrate both the powerful stories of their ancestors and the forward growth of their many opportunities in a melting pot of culture and language, no sabo individuals bring their unique perspectives to bear in positive ways.
No one else can decide how Latino/a you are.
Is No Sabo Unique?
While no sabo is perhaps the most commonly recognized form of language attrition (also called subtractive bilingualism), it is just one of a large number of examples of the phenomenon. Many Asian languages see decreased use in the second generation; think of how many times you have visited a restaurant in which the older owners speak less English than their children, who also work in the establishment.
Dane-zaa, a native language of Canada, has seen similar attrition. Of the approximately 1,600 remaining individuals, only around 270 speak the Dane-zaa language. Whether by exposure, convenience, necessity, or a combination of multiple factors, English has overtaken the development of native Dane-zaa acquisition.
Is linguistic change over time inherently negative? Not necessarily. However, it is essential to remember that stories, languages, cultures, and histories are all bound inextricably by language. Preserving the languages of the past is a worthwhile endeavor, even if their utility gradually transitions into a more multicultural perspective.
