In Spring 2025, I found a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: a teaching position at an international school in South Korea. I completed my graduate degree in mathematics education at UF, and I was eager to begin a career abroad. My past travels and friendships across cultures inspired me to pursue this path, and with all my work documents submitted, everything seemed conclusive.
What could go wrong? Well, everything — only because of my birthplace of Puerto Rico.
I landed in Puerto Rico after a late flight when I received an unsettling message from the school. Their local Korean immigration office ruled my place of birth is “an issue due to the language spoken.” Despite being fully bilingual, possessing a U.S. passport, having U.S. citizenship and completing a professional degree at an English-speaking institution, I was deemed unfit as they saw Puerto Rico as “Spanish-speaking.” Thus, I was incapable of teaching in English. The office denied my visa, and the school was forced to cancel my contract.
Puerto Rico has been part of the U.S. since 1898, and the Official Languages Act in 1902 established Spanish and English as co-official languages, though today English is the second official language of Puerto Rico. Many Puerto Ricans grow up bilingual, with recent studies showing over 30% of students attend private schools with successful English programs. My grade school education was mainly in English, my undergraduate degree was obtained from a bilingual institution and my graduate degree was earned from an English-only institution.
Nonetheless, the office’s definition of a “native English speaker” came from monolingualism, where only a citizen born in an English-only speaking country can teach in English. This disregards English as a global language, being spoken all around the world by various professionals. Selecting specific birthplaces as “the only places capable of producing legitimate English” is linguistic discrimination.
This issue goes deeper — it amounts to widespread ignorance about Puerto Rico’s identity. Since 1917, Puerto Ricans have been U.S. citizens with the Jones-Shafroth Act, thus exclusively carrying U.S. passports. Puerto Rican passports don’t exist. Yet, many U.S. residents do not know this — look at recent news of Bad Bunny performing at the Super Bowl — so it’s unsurprising that people abroad, especially outside the Americas, are unaware about Puerto Rico’s identity and existence.
In an attempt to get my visa, I called the Korean Immigration Contact Center for Foreigners and wrote a claim on a Korean government website, providing proof to clear the misunderstanding. Their responses remained dismissive, maintaining a monolingual and ignorant approach to my credentials and nationality. Despite the official website of the U.S. Consulate of South Korea recognizing Puerto Rico as U.S. territory, the office representatives were either unaware Puerto Rico is part of the U.S. or that it even existed.
As a final, desperate effort, I traveled to Korea and visited the immigration office to prove in person that I was a native English speaker. However, the office’s services were only in Korean, so with the help of local friends, I scheduled an appointment to discuss the matter. Despite not knowing much Korean, I could understand my friend emphasizing my credentials, only for officials to ignore us, even confusing Puerto Rico with Costa Rica. Even with my physical presence and legitimate qualifications, ignorance of my birthplace determined my future.
Unfortunately, my case is not unique. Across the world, teachers are denied opportunities due to factors unrelated to their professional competence — skin color, nationality or linguistic background. These standards undermine contributions of qualified educators and reinforce implicit definitions of language. My case highlights a bigger issue: Traditional immigration policies must reform their language views. Linguistic competence shouldn’t be dictated by birthplace, and bilingualism should be seen as a strength, not as a weakness. My nationality is not a liability to my professional background and future.
Puerto Ricans can speak English.
Ricardo Quiñones Lugo is an adjunct assistant professor of mathematics at Santa Fe College.
