Accent, Access and Authority: Language’s Hidden Politics
- Harnoor Kaur Uppal
- Sep 15
- 11 min read
This piece was originally published in the August 2025 issue of Pandora Curated.

The function of spoken language extends far beyond mere communication—it is an indicator of one’s identity, an instrument of access, and, mostly, a mechanism of establishing authority in a social setting. Our language, accent, dialect, and even grammar influences favourably, and adversely the type of opportunities made available to us, society’s perception of us and our sense of belonging.
These invisible forces haunt our everyday speech, politicising the most essential of activities—our language. Yet, in the politicization of language lies a powerful potential to question institutions built on how we speak, restore identity and challenge norms. But who has the privilege to ask those questions, and whose voices echo when they do?
Negotiating Power
How we speak often depends on who is listening. Our choice of language serves as living proof of social hierarchies through the inclusion and exclusion of certain individuals and groups. The very presence of such a hierarchy indicates which accents or dialects are allowed access and authority and which are not.
Consequently, groups can be subject to marginalization depending on their choice of language, dialect or accent and in doing so, our chosen spoken language actively constructs our social class, culture and belonging.
American sociolinguist William Labov’s work on the construction of social structures like class and gender through language unpacks belonging beyond marginalization. Languages taught in schools, heard in mainstream media, and utilised in courts and workplaces often become the “standard” languages signifying professionalism, social ascent, intelligence, and the “right” social class. The ultimate result of a language becoming the standard language is the result of political and ideological dominance, not linguistic dominance.
Especially with the existence of linguistic diversity, people may adapt to navigate through these nuances swiftly. They may strategically conform their speech by alternating between two or more languages or dialects in a conversation or a sentence. This is known as code-switching, which functions as a social and linguistic adaptation of negotiating one's identity and power within any context.
Mary Bucholtz, a sociocultural linguist and professor at UC Santa Barbara, argues that code-switching is a deliberate attempt at adapting to the demands of a social setting, expectations, or expressing unity or dissent rather than an incidental strategy. It helps individuals to conform to existing social demands.
American academic and linguist John Baugh’s work on linguistic profiling also reveals how sounding ‘different’ may deny a person access to services or goods that are freely available otherwise, solely based on their voice. For example, African Americans may codeswitch between African American Vernacular English/AAVE or Standard American English in certain social contexts.
Patterns of codeswitching are common among multicultural or multilingual groups, and the pattern becomes more nuanced when marginalized groups utilize this strategy. For them, it is a necessity to code-switch when navigating institutional or social spaces, but the habit of switching in order to be accepted may pose problems by alienating an individual from their identity.
In addition to codeswitching, code-meshing is the blending of dialects such that they coexist rather than compete. Vershawn Ashanti Young, a scholar of Black studies, proposes this method where individuals are not required to switch between ‘acceptable’ forms of speaking; instead, their fully compatible dialects promote authentic representation of diversity.
Access in Accents
How we speak answers where we belong. Regional dialects and accents are markers of geographic origin and social background. Certain accents—belonging to the dominant groups usually of urban or rural upper and middle classes and more—may be consistently favoured while other accents are disparaged or perceived as less prestigious.
For example, regional languages such as but not limited to Assamese, Khasi, Bhojpuri, Tamil, and Haryanvi are marginalised in India. This occurs because ‘standard’ English—usually associated with the urban and middle classes—and shuddh or pure Hindi are perceived to be more prestigious. According to the 2023 Annual Status of Education Report, many students from other regions of India residing in Hindi-speaking areas are subject to mockery for their regional dialect, pressurising them to surrender their native languages.
Groups speaking in non-dominant accents are at risk of facing discrimination in several social and political settings, especially when institutions like healthcare and education are built around the majority languages and normative forms of speech. Minority language speakers are at a disadvantage in spaces of professional work, legal proceedings, service delivery, etc., which may hinder their ability to access basic information and exercise their rights.
In the healthcare sector, diagnosis and treatment may be restricted to just a few languages, if not one. Effective communication, critical for any patient, may be hindered for minority language speakers, leading to miscommunication, decreased access and in the worst cases, misdiagnosis. A study in the US showed that speakers who were proficient in English had better health outcomes than patients with limited proficiency in English. There is an urgent need for interpreters and culturally sensitive assistance in the healthcare sector.
John Baugh reveals that companies in America constantly discriminate based on applicants’ voices and screen calls. Voices that sound black or Latino are denied in-person meetings and jobs which are otherwise available to white people. The racism over the call is often conveniently denied, and companies refuse to take accountability.
This dynamic underscores the linguistic hierarchies that are constructed socially, establishing the standards for “acceptable” languages, accents and dialects which are enforced through media and institutions like media, schools, legal systems and even everyday interactions. Grammar must be “correct”, and accents should be “pleasing to the ear” if not neutral. This cycle grants the languages spoken by the majority tremendous authority, respect and prestige by subjugating lower-status groups and minorities.
This is notably evident in the education sector, where a neglect of regional or non-majority languages may obstruct potential academic excellence. In India, students from rural regions—mostly non-English speaking areas—studying in urban cities may struggle to cope with “standard” forms of teaching where English is the primary pedagogical language. Here, English functions as a ‘neutral’ language, disregarding the mother tongues of students. Other languages are deemed ‘vernacular’ and ‘unfashionable’, and humiliation is reinforced through such terms.
The usage of children’s mother tongue or their regional accent may subject them to ostracisation or bullying, detrimentally impacting their self-esteem and confidence. Students may also be subject to bullying due to the way they choose to speak. A stigmatization of their language may lead to such students struggling academically, further fueling the cycle of exclusion, poverty, and marginalization intergenerationally.
Most schooling systems promote one variant of a language, which is usually standard English. This comes at the cost of labelling ‘other’ vernacular languages as inappropriate and discouraging their use. India’s National Education Policy 2020 aims to incorporate learning native and regional languages through compulsory learning.
However, this aspirational move of focusing on regional/native languages may hinder the employment opportunities that the knowledge of English provides. English is often perceived as an “instrument of progress”, as described by Ramanujam Meganathan, a professor at the National Council for Educational Research and Training (NCERT). This is because most higher education and ‘elite’ jobs demand knowledge of English.
Does knowing and promoting one’s mother tongue empower or restrict, which inevitably leads to a different form of exclusion? One answer could be that it perhaps leads to a form of exclusion where people are rooted in their tradition but also restricted due to the same.
This paves the way for institutions to be built on a hierarchy of languages, where spoken languages are an indicator of civility, worthiness and intelligence. Children fluent in many languages may be compelled to choose between acceptance and identity. In such situations, cultural identity is at risk of falling prey to dominant norms as children may feel forced to abandon their regional accents or languages to conform to dominant ones.
Identity through Language
How we speak defends who we are and where we hail from. This is especially true for monolingual individuals who find their language their sole vehicle of communication, assertion of identity and connection. The presence of language is essential to maintaining one’s heritage, cultural and social. Our form of speaking serves as a living connection to our ancestry by carrying stories, values, and rituals that define our group identity. By actively speaking our native languages, we are preserving cultural continuity and resisting erasure. This act is a performance of cultural survival, anchoring us to our roots.
For example, the Welsh Language Act of 1993 mandated that the Welsh and English languages must be given equal importance in the public domain. Many legal and official measures have been taken to preserve and promote the use of Welsh in the region. Tourism and business have boomed in the region ever since, with an increased sense of community within the Welsh-speaking population.
While assimilation of culture threatens to blend differences, speaking one's native language often asserts our identity and reclaims our space within an unequal arena. Simultaneously, language and accents influence others’ perception of ‘us’. In some instances, it may foster unity, while in others, it may fuel bigotry. One’s speech informs the audience of their social standing—social class, ethnic community or region. Policing or disregarding non-dominant forms of speech results in devaluing some histories and cultures.
Situations of migration across regions, for example, require individuals to adapt the regional form of speech. Migrants often find it necessary to adapt to linguistic variations as a survival strategy. They may learn a new language or change their accent to seem more acceptable. To navigate through a foreign land, this act of adaptation may be done consciously or unconsciously. Their sole aim: to reduce the chances of discrimination, exclusion and marginalization by expanding the scope of better employment, education and healthcare. However, this tentative sense of belonging may be jeopardised by traces of their origins.
Migrants face a linguistic inconsistency in the inability to hide their origin through accidental missteps in grammar, accent or even vocabulary. The tag of being an “outsider” may resist elimination, inviting acts of microaggression and exclusion. This constant friction between the preservation of identity and embracing change expose how language functions as a mighty boundary, yet an unbreakable bridge.
For example, Germany houses millions of migrants from around the world. However, the study by the Expert Council of German Foundations on Integration and Migration reveals that migrants who look ‘different’ from the German population—migrants with dark skin or headscarves or foreign accents—frequently face discrimination. Migrants who speak German in their native accents are at more risk of being disfavoured in any social setting.
French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu’s work on linguistic capital can be appropriately understood in this context. He describes linguistic capital as a type of cultural capital wherein the amassing of an individual’s language skills determines their footing in society.
All of this is regulated by the established powerful social institutions and enforced through representations in media, law, and even everyday speech. Some equally complicated languages may be deemed unworthy, while others are considered valuable.
If we consider the Tamil Eelam Movement in Sri Lanka through the lens of Pierre Bourdieu’s linguistic capital, we can understand that the Sinhala language acquired high linguistic capital, which was institutionalised. Tamil, on the other hand, was devalued and lost its value in the nation. This was orchestrated through symbolic violence, making the Tamil identity seem inferior.
As Bourdieu describes, symbolic violence refers to the subtle yet profound ways in which dominance of values and ideas is exerted by the dominant groups, which will lead to the internalization of such structures and inequalities.
For instance, the material and institutional erasure of Tamil through various means can be classified as an example of symbolic violence. The Tamil language was not included in education, state work, or the judiciary. In addition to exclusion, the Tamil identity was systematically erased from daily life through the burning of Tamil libraries and institutions.
Additionally, language bans are infamous around the world. From Turkey to Spain, certain languages were suppressed in their entirety through law, restricting groups from asserting their identity. The Kurdish language was banned in periods in Turkey, resulting in generational losses of culture and identity. Similarly, in Spain, the Catalan language was brutally suppressed in the 20th century as it was viewed as harmful to the unity and the state of Spain.
Severe consequences of linguistic erasure may also result in many languages going extinct. Dead and dying languages result in years of lost knowledge, oral histories, and cultural diversity. The Eyak language of south central Alaska is one of the many extinct languages which disappeared after the death of the last speaker, Chief Marie Jones Smith in 2008. The reason for the extinction of this language was attributed to the spread of English and Tlingit in the region.
Linguistic erasure is thus an absolute outcome of systemic marginalization and devaluation of some languages under threat. Preservation through documentation and archival methods is of utmost importance for such languages.
Language can function as an act of defiance, too. Marginalised or minority groups may choose to communicate in their native language to embrace and assert their heritage. In Spain, this was done through the Catalan Cultural Movement in the 19th century. Concerning a country’s diaspora, honoring their roots is nurturing selfhood through generations, dissolving the assimilating effects of globalization and migration.
It is in such a situation, the very act of speaking one’s language becomes an assertion of their cultural existence. For scholar Gloria Anzaldúa, language is “a homeland closer than the Southwest—[one] that I can never abandon, because the word is my life.”
Unveiling the Politics
Our speech reflects the power we navigate, the places we occupy, and the identities we are permitted to perform. Language does not have a neutral existence. It is at this stage that we must ask the question: Why do we punish someone for their speech, culture and history?
Language has functioned as a marker of our identity and culture. While globalisation threatens to homogenise some cultures, it also unlocks a world of opportunities. The global reliance on English as a linguistic franca serves as a medium for progress.
Historically, English has been attributed the tag of lingua franca as it has been used as a common language of communication. Colonization efforts around the world have contributed to the spread of English as an official language in countries. With globalization and increased interconnectedness, the need for a universal language stands essential in fields of diplomacy and business.
However, learning multiple languages benefits people in sectors of employment and education. Forms of multilingual teaching of regional dialects should be encouraged rather than penalised. Discrimination based on one’s accent and/or language must be considered grounds for action and punishment in spaces beyond workplaces.
Marginalised groups and many others are undertaking constant efforts to ensure linguistic preservation. The Living Tongues Institute for Endangered Languages works to ensure the survival of many dying languages. Additionally, universities such as the University of Victoria in Canada have Indigenous Language Revitalization programs that enhance indigenous language knowledge systems.
In New Zealand, the initiative of language nests or Köhanga Reo, where elderly Maori adults take care of young children from disadvantaged homes, also facilitates language revitalization through the transference of indigenous knowledge systems.
Additionally, positive representation in media through films, television, and news will help authentic and accurate representation, while community-led initiatives encourage language-driven schools and archiving methods. Teaching code-meshing in schools will encourage affirming identities by speaking a blend of languages instead of forcing us to conform to the dominant one.
From classrooms to workspaces, grammar and accents influence belonging, legitimacy and access. Speech can serve as a gateway and a veiled barrier to opportunities, advancement and recognition.
Social mobility is heavily dependent on linguistic abilities, culminating in institutionalized inequalities that are rarely overtly accepted. Acknowledging the politics behind everyday speech is the starting point in accommodating more voices, more tongues and more truths.
Edited by the Curated Editorial Team
Harnoor Kaur Uppal (she/her), an undergraduate student of Global Affairs with a minor in Public Policy, is a writer at Pandora Curated. Her research interests lie at the confluence of media, politics and cultural studies, with a particular focus on the preservation of tribal identities and indigenous knowledge systems and their living traditions.
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