When I began having trouble translating English phrases to my mostly Spanish-speaking parents during my sophomore year, I realized I was beginning to lose parts of myself.
I had always prided myself on my fluency and special ability to switch not only between languages but cultures. One second, I was immersed in my native tongue, completely entranced by the rich culture surrounding the beautiful Spanish language, and the next, I was drowned by the tongue that overflowed with foreign influence and deeply rooted colonialism.
English, my second language, was always going to be tethered to my life here in the United States. At home, I would nurture and cultivate the language that would remind me of Mexico, but at school, I strictly conformed to English. Out of fear of falling behind, I resorted to adapting to my surroundings. I told myself that to excel in the U.S., a place packed with words I had yet to understand, I needed to learn English.
What I didn’t understand was that as time went on, my second tongue would become my dominant language, and as a result, my Spanish would slowly become an afterthought. I didn’t just lose connection to my native tongue; I severed a connection to my identity and culture. My experience is not a burden I bear alone. Many international students also face this reality, as the pressure for them to conform linguistically at UT forces them to silence parts of themselves.
“Academia is a very anglophone, English-dominant space,” said Courtney Handman, associate professor of anthropology with a focus on linguistic anthropology. “There’s a sense that the only way (to) show yourself (as) competent is to speak unaccented English.”
When you immerse yourself in a culture embedded with a language you don’t understand, you are faced with a difficult situation: assimilate or risk a perception of incompetence. Many international students may come to UT with a level of understanding of the English language, but what sets them apart isn’t the understanding. It’s the quality of their dialect.
“When I came to the U.S. to study , I really made an effort to blend in,” said Zhixian Chen, applied learning and development junior. “I even tried to avoid speaking Chinese to be more successful.”
The pressure to be accepted, not just academically but linguistically, forces students to morph into people who would rather be perceived as UT students, not students attending UT. To achieve this, they squander their accents and change their presentation at the cost of assimilation.
“(Students) worry about their self-presentation as being overly emotional,” Handman said. “(They think) the only right way to be an intellectual, a good student is to have this seriousness associated with English.”
We’re often told to never change ourselves for others, that nothing is ever worth losing our sense of self, but is that applicable to international students? To successfully assimilate into one world, don’t you need to abandon aspects of your old one? Aren’t we always told that to move forward, we can’t look back?
The answer is no.
“I think I experienced what is called the ‘loss of home language,’ because I spent many years studying in the U.S.,” Chen said. “I don’t speak Chinese very well anymore, which changed the way I saw myself. … Now, I struggle with translating my thoughts to my parents or friends.”
Speaking a language isn’t just a means for communication but an identity shaped by the cultural bearings hidden behind its dialect. It’s a way for students to feel in tune with those around them, a segway to be thoroughly understood. It’s heartbreaking to think that the student who excels in English is not the same child who speaks freely in their native tongue. To succeed in one world, you must silence the other.
It’s devastating that many students come to UT and almost immediately face a sink-or-swim situation. To avoid being labeled as incompetent, you must allow a language foreign to your own to shape a new, socially acceptable version of yourself.
To counter this, students and staff must cultivate an environment where language is seen not as a barrier to success but as an asset. This begins with valuing the perspectives and lived experiences of multilingual students. When we take the time to listen, ask questions and recognize the richness of their voices, we create a space that celebrates linguistic diversity. Our efforts to make everyone feel welcomed could strengthen our collective learning community, creating a space where students don’t have to experience a loss of self when stepping into a new environment.
Huerta is a government junior from Victoria, Texas.
