A Life Between Two Shores (Pt. 1 of 2)

I finally decided to write my story in English, the story of the five and a half year journey of self-discovery that I am on, as I uncover my Valencian roots. I have obviously had reservations about writing this story in English, partly because I think about this journey in Spanish and transferring that thought process to English presents a small challenge, but mostly because in the past I was worried about how this story would be received.

I have been on the receiving end of a lot of ridicule for using Sanchis as a second last name, for some, a "joke" last name. Meanwhile, others have responded to fragments of my story by literally spitting in my face things like "You're not f*cking Spanish, you're a f*cking American". I got really sick of hearing people who felt entitled to tell me what and who I was, and for the longest time I could not figure out why my story was so upsetting to some people.

Now, I understand. Quite simply, a white kid in the USA (re)claiming ethnic heritage and ethnic culture, preferring to use languages like Spanish and Valencian, rejecting mainstream United States culture and national pride, and seeking citizenship in another country, does not encounter a lot of sympathy, nor does it fit with the mental framework of those who see the U.S. as the "greatest country on earth". Today, I am very proud to share my story, having been filled with so much happiness and fulfillment to outlast and overpower whatever negative or derogatory comments may come my way in the end...

A Life Between Two Shores

In 2006, I studied abroad in Spain. I was a rising-junior in high school and the experience of being in the world outside of the United States was very impacting on me as an adolescent. Experiencing Spanish culture and lifestyle in first-person, I was completely won over. It was very much a before and after moment in my life. I became a fan of soccer, a sport I had barely even played before and had somewhat despised prior to visiting Spain. I returned matured and much more dedicated to studying. Spanish class went from being my most hated and dreaded class, to the one that was suddenly most relevant in my life, the one I was most passionate about.

When my mother saw me so caught up in Spanish culture, suddenly passionate about learning Spanish and constantly wearing a Spanish soccer jersey or talking about Spain, she told me about my grandfather for the first time. Maybe it was not the first time, and I had simply been inattentive or disinterested before, but it really struck me and seemed to confirm what I was feeling: a profound connection to Spain.

My mother could tell me very little about her father, reclusive and, when she turned five, completely absent from the family picture after my grandmother divorced him. Not even my grandmother could tell me much about this man. He had passed away a few years before I was born and with him went seemingly all knowledge of who he was. I think in part I was perplexed by the fact that he was part of my genetic code, part of me, and yet I knew almost nothing about him, and clearly having a connection to Spain was something that greatly interested me. So, I began to investigate my grandfather's life history.

It was very difficult to find any relevant information on his roots in Spain, though I was able to reconstruct his history from his arrival in the United States onward. He had fled Spain after the defeat of democracy in the Spanish Civil War at the hands of future-dictator Francisco Franco. He went on to serve for the United States in World War II, earning U.S. citizenship in return for his service. Upon becoming a citizen, he elects to sign under a new name, Vincent Arlen, an anglosized name that would prevent anyone from ever tracing him to Vicente Sanchis Amades, Spanish Republican soldier and a member of the Communist Party of the United States, as my research would later prove.

I learned from his United States Military record that he had been in the United States prior to the start of the Spanish Civil War. This clue eventually led to the discovery, thanks to some inspiration from a college professor Dr. Mike Finnemann, that he had in fact been a member of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, a largely-forgotten group of young american anti-fascists who disobeyed the United States government and fought in the Spanish Civil War in support of the democratically-elected Spanish Republic. The Abraham Lincoln Brigade was the first, full-integrated army in U.S. history. Many young Americans gave their lives fighting for Spanish freedom against the forces of Hitler and Mussolini, anticipating what many failed to see until later: fascism in Europe was a threat to life and wellbeing around the world.

Thanks to the Abraham Lincoln Brigade Archives in New York, I was able to construct a more vivid image of what my grandfather's life was like during the Spanish Civil War. They were even able to find a letter my grandfather had written, relating his experiences in San Pedro de la Cardeña, the most deadly fascist prison camp in northern Spain. Had my grandfather's Spanish nationality been discovered, he would have been killed in the camp along with his countrymen, but somehow he managed to survive.

Despite this rich history, I still could not gather much of anything about my grandfather's pre-Civil War life in Spain. Until one day, in re-examining his U.S. military record, I made a breakthrough: whereas all of his other documents only offered the useless "Spain" or "Valencia, Spain" as his birthplace, I discovered one document that went a step further, "Cabanal, Valencia, Spain". Initially, I struggled to interpret this new discovery.


Barracas en El Cabanyal

 In the Summer of 2010, I returned to Spain for another study abroad trip. I took advantage of a trip to Valencia to continue my investigations and stumbled right into the historic, maritime neighborhood of Valencia known as El Cabanyal (as it is known in the Valencian tongue; "Cabañal" in Spanish; in either, it is easy to see the connection). Being in my grandfather's old neighborhood, seeing the beautiful barracas, typical of the neighborhood, and noting the individuality and character that each one had, as well as tasting life on the shores of the Mediterranean. It is an absolutely beautiful and very impresionable neighborhood.

Ever since then, I have been marveling in Valencian culture and fighting for the historical preservation of El Cabanyal, reclaiming my Valencian heritage. I kept investigating my grandfather's roots with the hopes of one day being able to obtain Spanish citizenship, something my grandfather had to give up due to the Franco regime. There was a law in Spain that expired this past December allowing me to do so, if I presented the necessary documentation. This proved to be a tall order. For the longest time, I thought I would never be able to obtain all the documents I needed, even though there was only one document seperating me from citizenship: my grandfather's birth certificate. However, after 5 years of trying, it was all but impossible to obtain, until a little miracle happened: Levante Unión Deportiva, the 102 year old soccer club that originated in El Cabanyal stepped in.

The conclusion to this story in part 2...

http://descubriendoadean.blogspot.com/2012/05/life-between-two-shores-pt-2-of-2.html