Living abroad often means becoming the person who reaches for words. Behind every pause and stumble lies something more profound than learning — a kind of emotional exposure. Speaking another language lays us bare to others' perceptions, reveals our limits, and demands that we accept vulnerability. It can also stir a quieter shame: the fear of not saying things “right,” of not quite measuring up.
Language as a mirror of identity
From a psychoanalytic perspective, language is not just a tool for communication; it's where identity takes shape. From childhood, it connects the body, emotions, and the world around us. It carries the sounds of origin, the rhythm of our first exchanges.
Speaking another language can sometimes feel like losing this inner familiarity—the ease that gives us a sense of existence through speech. That shift can feel disorienting, even like a loss of control—and with it, the stirrings of shame. “Linguistic shame” doesn't come so much from making mistakes as from the unsettling feeling of no longer recognizing ourselves in the way we speak.
Many people feel frustrated when they can't express their full complexity in a foreign language. The nuances, humor, and subtlety often slip away. Others, conversely, experience a sense of freedom: another language lets them distance themselves from overwhelming emotions, protecting them from emotional intensity.
In both cases, language becomes a space of psychological transformation. It forces us to rephrase, to find new words, and to rediscover ourselves differently. Speaking another language is a way of reinventing how we express who we are.
It also means giving up control. Speaking in another language confronts us with vulnerability—words escape, sentences falter. But that very imperfection can open the door to freedom. It allows a more spontaneous, less guarded part of ourselves to emerge. When the ego lets go, something truer can surface, more creative, more genuine, and more aligned with desire.
The pursuit of speaking well: A quest for recognition
The desire to speak perfectly often reveals a deeper need—to be acknowledged. Speaking well feels like legitimacy; it's proof of belonging. Speaking poorly risks misunderstanding, exclusion, and even ridicule.
This tension can be especially strong for expatriates, for whom language often determines integration. But it also echoes something more primal: a child's fear of “doing it wrong,” of disappointing, of losing approval or love. Linguistic shame may be a modern form of that old fear.
Parents can transmit this shame without realizing it. A parent who belittles their own speech in the host country's language may unintentionally teach their child that “speaking imperfectly is wrong.” Conversely, when parents accept their mistakes, laugh at their slips, and keep talking anyway, they model tolerance and confidence.
Learning a new language means accepting being a beginner again. Showing that vulnerability teaches children that a person's worth isn't measured by grammatical precision but by their willingness to connect.
Why are others so judgmental?
Intolerance toward accents or language mistakes often reflects a deeper discomfort with difference. Those who judge may be projecting their own insecurities—rejecting in others what they can't tolerate in themselves: fragility, dependence, and imperfection.
In many contexts, language is also a social marker. Speaking “well” can signal belonging or superiority; speaking “poorly” can mark someone as a minority. Behind linguistic criticism often lies an unspoken hierarchy—separating those who master the language from those who “stumble.” Linguistic shame hurts because it strikes at the core of belonging.
A few ways to ease linguistic shame
- Welcome imperfection: Mastery comes through play, not control.
- Don't isolate yourself: Speaking, even awkwardly, is better than silence.
- Laugh at yourself: Humor loosens rigid self-judgment and restores the joy of speaking.
- Keep your mother tongue alive: It remains a psychological anchor, a source of stability.
- Seek supportive spaces: Whether in your family, relationship, or therapy, being listened to without judgment rebuilds confidence.
Living in your language, living your uniqueness
Linguistic shame reveals something profoundly human—the longing to belong and the fear of not managing to. But language is not an exam to pass; it's a space to inhabit.
Having an accent, searching for words, mixing languages—all of this belongs to the experience of living in-between. Instead of aiming to “speak perfectly,” perhaps we should learn to speak fully—with our hesitations, our color, and our history. True fluency doesn't come from grammar but from the living movement of speech itself.
Learning to accept ourselves in this imperfection is already a form of inner freedom.
For expatriates, keeping a living connection with one's native language can be deeply grounding. Consulting a professional in your mother tongue, even remotely, often helps reclaim a familiar inner space—where words regain their weight and emotional truth. Maintaining this symbolic bond with your original language sustains psychological continuity, no matter where you are or where you go.
