My quest for the ‘perfect’ English accent: How I succeeded and ultimately chose to fail
I tend to jokingly tell my clients that I spent years overthinking my own English so that you wouldn’t have to. Let me explain.
When I started university in the UK, I’d already been living in the country for 8 years. However, I still felt like an outsider. English wasn’t my native language and I wanted to prove that I belonged here.
This meant that, without even realising it, I was constantly carefully monitoring my English, taking mental notice of how others pronounced certain words, and pining over every little mistake I made.
Going native
Gradually, though, something started to shift. One day I heard a recording of my own voice asking a question during a lecture, and I couldn’t believe my own ears. I sounded completely ‘native’. Then, a little while later, acquaintances who’d been in my social circles for a while would learn I was Norwegian and say “Oh, I had no idea you weren’t British!”
Realising that I sounded British, at least most of the time, gave me a feeling of pride and achievement in how far I’d come. But there was something more than that, too.
The truth is, no matter how hard I tried, there was always something missing – something that would make me stand out: I’d start a conversation with someone, and after a while I would introduce myself and say “By the way, I’m Hedvig”. And without fail, the other person would say “Oh, where are you from?”
At the time, I couldn’t understand why this question hurt so much. Sometimes I’d feel annoyed that I’d have to explain my life story, other times I worried how they might judge me purely based on my home country. Looking back on these moments now, I can describe the feeling as if somebody had put a big sticker on my forehead that said “DOES NOT BELONG HERE”. Even if the intention behind the question was completely benign, it made me feel like an outsider.
How far is too far?
Over time I began to realise one painful truth: That no matter how flawless my English was, I would never simply blend in to British society. It didn’t matter how I dressed, or how many times I said “please” or “sorry” or “thank you” in polite British fashion. And although as a white person, I’ve had a much easier time of blending in than someone from an ethnic minority might have, there was still one very obvious thing about me that stood out: My name.
With this realisation, I had 2 options:
Change my name, thus completing my total transformation into a “proper British” person, or
Accept my biculturalism and begin to embrace my own idiosyncrasies – flaws and all.
Option A might sound over-the-top to you (let me know if this has ever crossed your mind – if you’ve ever taken on a nickname, for example), but it’s not as absurd as you might think: Throughout history, many migrants have officially changed their names, sometimes out of choice and other times under coercion. Even in recent decades, people like Arianna Huffington, Jason Derulo, George Michael, and Gary Vee all chose to anglicise their names (= make them fit better into the English language).
I can’t speak to the reasons why these people made their choice to change their names – and I’m sure some only anglicised their public persona. But I can imagine it won’t have been an easy decision, and for me, this seemed like a non-option. To me, my name is a part of my identity.
The shift towards belonging (rather than fitting in)
There are many other, subtler “Norwegianisms” that I didn’t want to let go of, either: For example, though I love having fish ‘n’ chips at the pub, any fish I cook at home is not breaded. When the weather is hot, I like to do what I’ve heard some Britons call “wildwater swimming”. The Norwegian in me will defiantly call this, well, swimming.
Another important shift I had to make for my own sense of belonging in this country (the UK), was to change my own attitude towards people’s questions.
When somebody’s asking me where I’m from, there’s usually a good intention behind this: They might simply be curious, or trying to build rapport, or perhaps they’re even trying to find something in common with me. Or they could simply be trying to make conversation.
By choosing to interpret such questions differently, I knew I didn't need to fit in to belong. If anything, my years of trying to blend in had only made me feel more isolated because I was putting in all this effort without seeing the results and feeling the sense of belonging that I longed for.
On the topic of belonging vs. fitting in, emotions researcher and author Brené Brown actually juxtaposes these two concepts, claiming that these are opposite and mutually exclusive: You cannot experience both at the same time.
Now, I feel that I’ve come full circle: I reached my goal of speaking like a native speaker, had an existential crisis where I realised that this goal didn’t give me what I’d been longing for after all, and then decided to let go of this native speaker ideal for myself.
This is where true belonging lies: Being able to express myself freely without worrying that what I say or how I say it will impact my status or belonging in society. If you listen to my podcast, you might notice that my Norwegian accent shines through once in a while, and I might mess up a preposition now and then. But I have learnt to find belonging in the English-speaking world by embracing the parts of me that don't fit into it.
I bring all of these experiences into my work as a language coach: Helping you express your ideas clearly and understand complex situations, so you can become the kind of communicator you want to be — with full appreciation for the rich cultural background that makes you you.
AUTHOR'S BIO
Hedvig is a language and learning coach on a mission to make language learning almost as normal as breathing. She is the founder of Abundate.org and host of the Abundate Podcast, where she interviews language learners, educators and researchers about the magic, power and beauty of language learning. She also shares her personal reflections on language learning in her newsletter. Learn more about private English Neurolanguage Coaching®.