One day we were all sitting down for dinner and the family we were staying with had guests over for the celebration of Ramadan. Some of the guests did not speak English, so all the adults and the Senegalese children were speaking French and Wolof. My little sister and I were just sitting on one side of the table having our own conversation as I listened into the French conversation as well. I didn’t understand all of it but I did understand the gist of what they were saying. My mom, who speaks fluent French, called for my sister’s attention and mine because she thought we were being rude. So my sister and I sat there and ate in silence. At one point one of the guests, who knew me from when I was little, asked me a question. I understood what she was asking, but I knew that if I tried to speak I would mess up a tense or put the wrong article in front of an object. So I started at her blankly, did a nervous laugh, and then looked at my mom for translation. My mom translated it, and then told her my answer. The conversation went on and as people realized I would refuse to speak they stopped asking me questions in French. There were also sometimes when they spoke to me in English and I would answer gladly. My mom sometimes knew that I could understand and she would occasionally tell me to answer by myself, but I would refuse and claim that we never learned anything in French class in the past four years.