meme (published on 31st May 2016) stating in both English and Spanish in the original: “#Esdecuica hablar spanglish, if you know what I mean”. Here, the knowledge of Spanglish (understood as a linguistic hybridisation that combines elements of Spanish and English) is brought out as an index of authenticity that demonstrates belonging to the upper class. The large number of comments (more than 800 in July 2019), “likes” (more than 5,000), and reposts (about 1,100) is demonstrative of the general attitude that the community and its followers have on this matter: they perceive it as something revealing (and somewhat laughable) of a cultural praxis.

The fact that a distinctive social class identity is articulated from the concept of “Spanglish” is noteworthy, especially considering that the most purist pan-Hispanic norm deplores this hybridisation. This is shown in the article of the Chilean newspaper El Mercurio (5th August 2012) titled “La pegajosa moda de hablar y vender con anglicismos” (‘The catchy trend of speaking and selling with Anglicisms’) where language authorities (linguists and académicos de la lengua from Chile and Spain) express their concern about the “excessive” use of English, especially when there is “mixing” with Spanish. Exhibiting pride for the hybridisation implied in the concept of Spanglish should set off all the alarms among the guardians of the elite’s traditions. So why does the Chilean ruling class seem to turn a deaf ear to linguistic regulation?

In the Chilean context, the ability to speak international languages of European origin —and English, in particular— is recognised as a feature of the upper class. This occurs because an important part of the elite has been able to travel and train in Europe, North America and Asia, and also because for generations many of them have attended bilingual schools (Menard-Warwick, 2012; Matear, 2008). Consequently, when la cuica declares that she “speaks Spanglish”, she is not promoting the hybridisation of linguistic forms; she is rather publicly announcing that English is part of her everyday language repertoire and that she can fluently switch between two languages in a way that people from other social classes could not. This notion of Spanglish, then, contrasts with the value described originally for the term, as a form of marginal language belonging to subaltern groups in the United States (Otheguy and Stern, 2010). A language ideology of pride about social class can be observed here, as soon as what is celebrated is not the mixture of languages , but the ability to distinguish oneself through a code generally forbidden to the majority of the population.

Another revealing case (10 May 2017) was the announcement on Es de cuica claiming “prohibido decirle ‘mami’ a la mamá” (‘is forbidden to call your mom mami’). The document (with 1,900 “likes”) was widely shared and by July 2019 it had accumulated 364 comments. In the comments, it reads that a majority of participants consider the term mami vulgar or laughable and that, on several occasions, they directly ask that it not be used. As the comments section suggests, it seems that those who utilise the term mami are at the lower end of the social spectrum and that the upper class prefers mamá, madre, mom, and even expressions like mi amá. A perception of the speech of Chile’s ruling classes predominates as the form of highest value in the linguistic market and due to its positive connotations, it is quickly represented as “correct” or “pleasant” (Rojas, 2012b). It is opposed by the flaite speech of Chile’s working class, imagined as qualitatively inferior.

In many comments, however, some defend the validity of mami, especially due to its affective value, linked to a singular emotional bond perceived in the mother-child relationship. A participant claims: “A m[í] los 2 enanos me dicen mami […] suena tierno en los niños chiquititos […] En lo[s] grandes no me gusta, […] [lo] encuentro flaite” (‘Both dwarfs call