Debates about multiculturalism these days are driven by the question, "What does it mean to be American?" But even as Americans worry about the loss of common ground, both newcomers and native born end up speaking "American. " Our language proves America exists. PNS commentator Richard Rodriguez, author of "Days of Obligation," is an essayist for the PBS News Hour with Jim Lehrer.

SAN FRANCISCO -- Here in California, the largest immigrant state in the union, the largest Hispanic state, we have been arguing lately about English. Earlier this month, Californians went to the polls and voted for Proposition 227, a ballot initiative that intends to end bilingual education.

California's debate over bilingual education is bound now to spread across the nation. In coming months, Americans will argue about English, but the unspoken issue, the question no one will raise is this: What does it mean to be an American--what does it mean to be an American, now when so many people, from so many parts of the world, speak so many languages?

Here in San Francisco you can vote in one of three languages. Everywhere there is linguistic chaos in neon, on billboards, writing on the wall the native cannot decipher.

In the 1980s, in various cities and states across the country, many Americans voted to declare English the official language of the United States. On the other side, Hispanic activists and many in the educational establishment inclined toward the view that forcing an immigrant child too early toward English amounted to a "sink or swim" pedagogy. The issue, for both sides, centered around "English."

In truth, however, we Americans do not speak English. Even before our rebellion against the crown, the British were complaining about our "Americanisms." After we won independence, our accent began to change. It was as though those first Americans needed to assert independence with mispronunciation and heightened vowels.

Soon, despite bloodshed between Indians and pioneers, old Indian words like "squaw" and "moccasin" became part of the new American language. African slaves also changed the tongue. They shouted it back at white America. They prayed the language, sang it, resounding it with African inflections, not European.

And then the immigrants came. And the language grew, as the country absorbed the newcomers. French savoir faire. Scandinavian saunas. German words in the American mouth--19th-century frankfurters, just as today there is Japanese sushi. Tender grandmother words: babushka. Proud grandfather slang: mensch.

Now, there is no mistaking the voice of Huck Finn from Oliver Twist. Now, there is no one in America who does not speak Yiddish by virtue of the American tongue. Now, there is no one whose cadence has not been influenced by African slaves.

There is, in short, no way to declare English the official language of the United States, because there are too many German words in our mouths. Alternately, the attempt to protect Hispanic children from the American tongue ignores the fact that there is so much Spanish in our language already--many hundreds of words.

Here in the far West, despite a long history of antagonism between Mexico and America, between so-called Anglos and Hispanics, the 19th-century cowboy spoke of arroyos and mesas and siestas.

Our language proves it--America exists. America is not Mexico, nor is it England. But the millions of people who have lived on this land have left traces of their voices behind, shaped our accent, the rhythm of our laughter and sorrow.

Bilingual education--¿Sí or no? For me, it is more important to take my place proudly in line with Lithuanian grandmothers and Vietnamese grandfathers, to say with Walt Whitman, "I speak American."