I’m standing in an East Lake View brewpub. About two dozen men, mostly gay like me, stand around. We’re tossing back IPAs and autumnal ciders. We’re munching pizza. We’re gabbing. Someone turns to me and introduces himself.
And then I freeze. I go blank. I know what to say, just not how to say it. Thankfully, I have a cheat sheet of conversation starters: We’re all wearing little name tag stickers on our chests.
Hola, me llamo Chris.
I’m at the monthly Chicago Gay Spanish and English Language Exchange, an informal gathering of people who want to help each other improve their language skills. Spanish learners. English learners. It’s a no-judgment zone, where gender fluidity extends to nouns and adjectives. Mix up your lo, le, la, me, or te? No te preocupes. Have another cerveza. It’ll come to you.
And let’s face it: At a time when the Supreme Court has said that speaking Spanish in public can help constitute “suspicious behavior” and 63% of Republicans are stamping their feet about Bad Bunny performing at the Super Bowl (¡Ay, Dios mío!), it’s about time that we have a place where language brings us together, not rips us apart.
The group began just over a year ago. I wish I had found it sooner. During the pandemic, I decided to get serious about learning Spanish after dabbling in learning it off and on for years.
Why go bi(lingual) now? Who knows? The best explanation I have for those who ask—and they all ask—is to prove to myself I can. The jury’s still out.
To date, I’ve bought grammar workbooks, listened to podcasts, and, thanks to subtitles and ChatGPT, managed to become engrossed in multiple Mexican telenovelas; watched three seasons each of spicy gay-themed shows like Élite and La Casa de las Flores on Netflix (and fell in love with Smiley). I’ve taken classes at the Instituto Cervantes downtown, spent six weeks as a digital nomad in Mexico City, and last month dove head-first into a five-day immersion in Madrid. My current Duolingo streak (not to brag): 1,120 days and counting.
But something was still missing. This group showed me what it was: Conversation with a little sass. And, yes, learning gay slang is half the fun.
At my first meetup, after I’d finished listing out all my Spanish-learning modalities, someone turned to me and said, “The easiest way to learn Spanish? Get yourself a Spanish-speaking boyfriend.”
I told him I already have a partner—almost 30 years now. He doesn’t speak Spanish but does know a little French. He seemed perplexed by my reply.
Was it because I seem too young to have been in a relationship that long? Or had I just said pájaro when I meant pareja? And I suppose it would be pretty amazing to own a French-speaking bird for thirty years.
Oh, well. Que será, será. The freedom to make mistakes is what it’s all about. Here, the grammar police are not welcome. But long discussions about the hot host of popular Spanish-learning podcast? Sí, señor.
Watching him at the event is like watching someone host a cocktail party with an international guest list. Martín glides from conversation to conversation, greeting newcomers, introducing people, and keeping the chatter lively—in both Spanish and English. “I have to talk with everyone,” he says. “Make sure everyone’s doing well, making sure everyone’s happy.”
When he arrived in Chicago, he said he tried to meet other gay Latinos on the North Side but found no real hub: just a few general Latino meetups and a nightclub or two, but no meaningful conversation or connection. So he created one himself, and the Chicago Gay Spanish and English Language Exchange was born.
The goal: attract both Spanish-and English speakers who wanted to improve their bilingual skills and have a good time doing it. The group’s focused on the LGBTQ+ community, but everyone’s welcome. Straight friends and monolingual spouses? Bienvenido.
Martín says he wasn’t sure what to expect at the group’s first meeting, held at The North End. “I was super timid and scared,” he admits. “I didn’t know how many people would come.” He taped a “Spanish–English” sign to the wall and waited. Within minutes, people started showing up. “So many that the manager had to open the back room,” he says. What was supposed to last an hour stretched into five.
Since then, about 30 or 40 people show up each month. It’s been held at various bars, but the brewpub seems to be a good fit, since it’s easy to hear each other.
Martín says that early on, some participants wanted a more structured format—levels, topics, even tests. He refused. “No, no, no,” he says, laughing. “It has to be like in Spain—relaxed, free. People come, they talk, they find their connection.” Today, roughly half of the attendees are native Spanish speakers improving their English; the rest are learners like me hoping to find their place on the road between hola and fluency.
I put myself closer to the hola level, but I’m enjoying the ride. Meeting folks who are new to the language helps me see how far I’ve come, and meeting more advanced learners inspires me to keep plugging along.
The community vibe—as well as a desire to keep his Spanish sharp—is exactly what led Kyle Clark to the group. A Michigan native, the 31-year-old technical editor moved to Chicago last May after spending the last seven years in Portland. He started studying Spanish in middle school through high school. While living in Oregon, he even volunteered at migrant-health clinics, using his language skills to help out where he could.
But after moving to Chicago, he was looking for ways to experience the community that weren’t centered around bars. This meetup fits the bill.
“Even though the meetup is in a bar, the focus is not just on drinking. You can actually have a conversation,” he says.
In fact, beyond the monthly bar meetup, the group has also organized an excursion to watch a Spanish-language entry at Chicago’s LGBTQ+ Reeling Film Festival. Martín has also partnered with Arcus Behavioral Health to explore offering workshops for immigrants and underinsured LGBTQ+ people.
Kyle says that groups like these help him boost his confidence and overcome his imposter syndrome around Spanish. Despite his years of practice, he feels uncertain about his competency.
“I tell myself ‘Oh, my Spanish is not that good. I’m not going to be perfect. No one’s going to understand me.’ But I have Latino friends who will tell me ‘Stop worrying about it. Just open your mouth and talk.’ So, I try to remember, no one’s going to judge me here.”
For attendee Iván Torres, 61, there’s a more personal reason he comes. The son of Puerto Rican-born parents, he grew up in Aurora, and while Spanish was used at home with his immediate family, he didn’t use his Spanish much elsewhere.
“I am one of those first-generation off-the-Island descendants who was very limited in their Spanish,” he says. Early in his career, his bilingual skills led him to interact with Spanish-speaking customers, but he found it surprisingly difficult. “I struggled,” he admits. Turned out he still had a lot to learn. Even for someone who grew up with two languages, learning a second language is always humbling, he says. “The main thing is practice, practice, practice.”
Iván says he is the type of person who’s comfortable in any environment, so the LGBTQ+ identity of the group isn’t what’s most important to him. But he sees the benefit: “Because we start off with the [LGBTQ+] commonality, people may feel more comfortable showing up alone rather than feeling that they need to come with someone else or that they need to be introduced to the group. And from there, you can go in any direction. You can make it what you want.”
Martín believes the group can be a bridge between cultures. “There are Latinos who just arrived in Chicago, and they feel this group is perfect to find friends and support,” he says.
And as for me, I’m still learning. Still practicing. Still the guy with the sticker on his chest, searching for the right words. Say “hola” when you see me.
Learn more about the group here:
Chicago Gay Spanish and English Language Exchange
Chris LaMorte is a Chicago-based journalist and writer whose work has appeared in Windy City Times, the Chicago Tribune, Crain’s Chicago Business, and at ChrisLaMorte.com.