Use Your Words In their young adult years, both of my parents took on the great challenge of immigrating from their home country of Nigeria to the United States. For as long as I can remember, they have blended Nigerian culture with the dynamics of our household, meticulously intertwining it with our everyday lives. For me, as well as my four older sisters, home life consists of learning how to prepare our cultural dishes, attending boisterous family gatherings, listening to my father scrutinize and grumble about the politics of our home country, and most importantly, attending Catholic Mass in our native language, Igbo, every first Sunday of the month. For as long as I can remember, my relationship with Igbo Mass has been one of love and hate, war and peace, enthusiasm and aversion. The complicated part about it is that, although my sisters and I have grown up very in touch with our culture, none of us ever fully grasped the ability to speak, read, or fully understand our native tongue. It is the one pitfall of my identity as a first-generation Nigerian-American. It is the scar etched into my skin from years of my dear parents hoping to facilitate our coming of age in America, fearing that we would grow up struggling to learn English if they dared to fully pass on their mother tongue. So I’ve grown up hearing my parents speak some tangled mix of English and Igbo, their words messily stitching together my two worlds like patches on clothing. And for years, I sat through Igbo Mass content with my limited understanding of what was going on, my young mind simply concerned with playing with my church friends or getting the refreshments that were served after Mass. That feeling of unbotheredness came to a screeching halt one day in the sixth grade, when I received an email from one of the church women asking me to give the First Reading at an upcoming Mass, entirely in Igbo. Of course, when I notified my parents of her request, they demanded that I do it. One, it would be considered rude of me to say no to her, especially considering how much West African culture values respecting the wishes of your elders, no matter the task. And, two, they saw it as an opportunity for me to tie that final knot between me
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