Constantly Fighting? by Alexandra Moran

Having two younger sisters all close in age, there is certainly never a lack of things to argue about. We’ll argue about random things like who wore what shirt or get caddy about who has more social media followers, but normally these little spats are directed between us and rarely result in full on screaming. The same follows for my parents. I have absolutely had my differences with both my mom and dad and there have been plenty of confrontational conversations between us. Yet, I can only remember maybe one or two times that voices were raised to the point of yelling. My parents are very kind and loving but hold high expectations for behavior and so the few times I fight back to them it usually results in me apologizing for being disrespectful. Although I know families who argue differently, in my experience, arguing is something that takes place in private and is more of a conversation than a screaming match.

When I moved into my host family, I was thrilled to discover the family had a 19-year-old boy and 18-year-old girl. It has been such a wonderful experience living with Spaniards my age and learning all the little things about Sevilla that only a local would know. Yet something I noticed right away and felt uncomfortable with was the way in which they speak to each other and their parents. The first time I was sitting at the dinner table and the son and mother started yelling at each other, I immediately felt so awkward and in the way, as if I was intruding on a private conversation that I shouldn’t have known about. I talked to my roommate about it and we both agreed that it was very strange for us to be sitting silently at the table with what seemed to be very intense arguments happening between everyone else. Multiple other times, I would walk out of my room to the daughter yelling, literally yelling, at her mom and I would only assume the worst. They would turn and smile at me and then continue their argument, each one talking over each other and making their voice louder each time.

After each confrontation, I expected dinner that night to be awkward or for there to be residing tension because in my mind something really important must have happened in order for the family to seem that upset. But when I went to the dinner table, everyone was smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened. I was and still am somewhat confused, but I learned to go with it. Although there were many conversations that I would consider fights, my host family has the ability to forgive and forget and that is something I want to bring back to my own family. I think this experience is related to the idea that Spanish people are more passionate and emotive. They want to be heard and aren’t afraid to speak their mind forcefully even in the presence of a stranger. Or maybe it’s because they consider me part of the family. Or maybe they’re just like any other stubborn teenager.