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Didn’t she understand that speaking another language is another way of seeing, a way of being at home with one another, of saying to your listener, “I know you, I honor you. You are my sister, my brother, my mother, my father, my family.” If she had learned Spanish—or any other language—she would have been admitting, “I love and respect you, and I love to address you in the language of those you love.”
A House of My Own: Stories from My Life
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