How a local author embraced her Afro-Latina Identity and thrived
“I’m just like Cardi B, I fall down eight times; I get up nine,” says Rosalyn Lake Montero, a local writer, educator and youth advocate who has navigated between two worlds for as long as she can remember. She grew up in the Dominican Republic and the United States. She’s both Latina and Black. She speaks Spanish and English. Even today, she works both in education and as a writer.
After her family settled permanently in the United States when she was 14-years-old, she struggled to fit in during high school, experiences that she says “have shaped my passion as a teacher.” She is currently working on three books including one with her students in Southeast D.C., where she works as a Spanish teacher at the SEED Public Charter School. She says she carries everything she learned as a high schooler—and what she didn’t learn—into her involvement with the youth today, though sometimes she feels people underestimate her because of her accent or assertiveness.
Recently she dropped by Hola Cultura’s S.P.E.L. to talk to us about Afro-Latinidad. Here’s what she had to say.
Can you tell us about how your upbringing in the United States differed from your time growing up in the Dominican Republic?
In the United States, there’s not a lot of quality of life. We have to go to school in this country from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m. In the Dominican Republic, we only did school from 8 a.m. to 12 or from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. The school system, while a weak one, is a lot more relaxed.
It was never a competition when I was in the Dominican Republic. In the U.S., there’s so much competition in education and careers. Nobody ever tells you, ‘What kind of human do you want to be when you grow up?’ Instead, they used to ask me, ‘What kind of profession do you want to have?’
Here, it’s like, ’You need to do this.’ It’s not: ‘You should’; it’s ‘You need to.” It’s ‘Because you’re a woman, and you’re Black, and you’re Latina, and you’re an immigrant, there are a lot of things that you need to make sure you do’ (in order to have professional success).
As someone who has experienced identity as expressed in two different countries, have you found your identity differently in different places?
Yes, in different places and groups of people. It goes beyond code switching (alternate between languages or cultures).
When I’m around children, I have this whole persona. The best version of me is when I interact with the youth. This is because I carry everything that I learned as a high schooler—or what I didn’t learn—into my involvement with the youth.
When I’m in professional spaces, at times because of my accent or because of my assertiveness, I feel like people downplay my knowledge as a woman, as an immigrant. I’m like Cardi B: I fall down eight times; I get up nine. You know what I’m saying? I do code-switch but always make sure I’m true to my core. I’m respectful to everybody. I’m youth oriented. I am loving. I’m kind. I’m forgiving but don’t cross me, because I know my worth as a woman, as a person, and as a professional.
It has made my identity more fluid because I’m able to empathize with people who don’t fit in. While I am true to my identity, I’m also a global citizen. I want to ensure that if you’re beside me, you’re going to feel comfortable. I’m going to make space for you, as well.
You are someone who has been able to speak publicly on race and your activism. What are some of the perspectives you share that are normally new for listeners?
I could talk about race and allowing equality and all of that, but our youth need to see more people who are diverse within their culture.
If you are a Latino girl or an African-American boy, both have similar ancestors. Our ancestors are here in this country and in the Western Hemisphere because of colonialism and brutality. I even look at globalization and am mindful of how I share it with my students because globalization is the next face of colonialism, at times. With the pandemic (for instance), we, as people of color—as minorities—were able to globally connect with other folks who are seeing that there is racism in their countries too.
First and foremost, we have to have educators and policies that educate kids on their ancestors and on things that they’re going to have pride to talk about. If I look over at Southeast (D.C.), I see these boys with their pants down their butt. I see these girls smacking their gum, acting crazy, ready to fight somebody. They’re doing that because they don’t know how to be proud of themselves.
We come from kings and queens. We are literally the strongest of our ancestors. We are the grandkids of the ones they couldn’t get rid of. To be a youth of color and not to have pride in yourself, you’re disrespecting everybody that came before you. Right now, we have a Vice President who is Black, but she’s not going to be the last one, right? We should have more people, who look like us, represent us in places where they actually create laws. I’m passionate about that.
How does Afro-Latinidad interact with the Black Lives Matter movement? Do you believe that Afro Latinos are well represented by this movement?
Black Lives Matter is a movement that blew up. It is global now with George Floyd, may he rest in power, but Afro-Latinos are definitely not always included. It is not because of Black people. I feel like it’s because—and I say this with a lot of respect—after the movement started, a lot of Latinos decided to say, “My uncle is Black. My cousin is Black.” Now everybody is Black; people want to negate the fact that there’s been some racism in our cultures. I will say this: I think that the (Black Lives Matter) movement itself needs to become more organized by Black folks.
In an interview with Hola Cultura, Manuel Mendez of the DC Afro Latino Caucus told us about how the Latino community has erased the contributions of Afro-Latinos. Would you agree? Has the lack of recognition of Afro-Latinos, either here or abroad, affected you deeply?
In the United States, yeah; it’s a problem. There’s no real representation of Afro-Latinos on television. Even when I am interviewed on Telemundo, I try not to read the comments (afterwards), because of the nasty, hurtful comments non-black Latino people make. The Latino community erases Afro-Latinidad by not even having a conversation about it.
It bothers me. I’m definitely ready to be a change agent. I know youth who literally struggled with identity. They say, ‘My Latina friends don’t like me. My African-American friends don’t get me because I have this accent. So where do I fit in?’ I used to struggle with Amara la Negra representing me, because not all Afro-Latinas are Amara la Negra; and it’s okay.
What has your experience been teaching about Afro-Latinidad? What attitudes and perceptions have you seen when discussing this topic?
When I started teaching in Southeast, all of the African-American kids told me, “You’re not Black.” I said, ‘Okay, so what color am I? Where do you want to place me?’
As we grew to understand each other and as I grew to respect their experience with my Latinidad, I learned that I was able to connect with my students through our blackness—through our global black experience, right? I am Black anywhere I go, and they are Black here.
I’m 25-years-old. People my age look at me like I’m making (Afro-Latino identity) up. There’s such a lack of representation out there for us. There’s such a lack of support. If you think about it, Latino music would not have rhythm had it not been for instruments from African culture. There’s not going to be rhythm in salsa if there are no instruments. It’s a beautiful mixture, but in that mixture, we have to appreciate the blackness. The blackness has been erased. When I was in college, my Peruvian professor told me that Celia Cruz didn’t have to be the only idol I had.
The term Afro-Latino really came to me when I was in college. I didn’t have that term to hold onto (before). Now that I’m a woman, so many people want to use the term just as a hashtag. What it is really is a healer to an identity crisis.
Have you seen a bias against hiring Spanish teachers from certain nationalities or communities? And what do you believe this says about the internal community’s perception of Spanish speakers?
I will take it a step farther. I was going to be a college Spanish professor. When I was getting my master’s degree, I felt like the professors at that university did everything in their power to block me. I didn’t finish the program. I thought, I cannot study a language that does not welcome me for being Dominican. They wanted to teach me about Don Quixote. I had learned about him already. I wanted to be taught about the slaves in Cuba and what they wrote.
In hiring Spanish teachers, I feel I get frowned upon. People tell me, ‘You don’t speak the nice Spanish.’ In response, I say, ‘There’s something called language variation; people are allowed to speak based on where they come from. There’s no one perfect Spanish.’
The same way there’s not an official language in the United States, there’s not an official Spanish, because it varies. Diversity is good, and that’s what people should start recognizing.
I was just curious about how you said that you didn’t come across the term Afro-Latino until you were in college. What was that like for you to find that term later on?
I was reading a book—I think it was by an Afro-Cuban author. He mentioned something about Africa. I just sat back and I said to myself: ‘Afro’ and ‘Latina.’ I went to my brother, who was a senior in college (at the time). I was a freshman. I said: ‘You know, we’re Afro because we’re Black, and Latino because we’re Latinos.” All he said was, ‘Okay, Rosseli.’ My professor was like: ‘Yeah, that’s what you are.’ But for me, it was a moment of liberation. I thought only I knew the term because nobody taught it to me.
When I came to D.C., I discovered the DC Afro Latino Caucus. I saw Dominican kids doing right. They’re not doing hookah every day. These are smart people. These are the Afro-Latinos I was talking about. By connecting with people that looked like me, I started having those conversations as well. I felt so liberated with my own identity.
—Lizzett Garcia, Julia Schroeder, Ramona Santana, and Dagmawit Abraham
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I am the director of Arte Publico Press and would be interested in reading Ms. Montero’s literary manuscripts. She may send them to aretpublicopress.com