It took me 19 years to realize I had an accent.
Perhaps it was because I hadn’t met a large group of new people in a long time or because the friends, family and teachers I grew up speaking Spanish with in Caracas, Venezuela all spoke like I did. But when I got to college in Pennsylvania for my freshman year, one of my roommates told me that she and our other roommate had seen I was from Latin America and bet on me having a thick Latino accent. That was only the beginning of people constantly commenting on my accent. Even my professors would point it out, noting how impressed they were that I was able to take classes in English. I couldn't help but feel self-conscious.
When it came time to apply for internships, I assumed my accent would be an automatic strike against me – that I’d falter, be labeled as “ESL,” and again experience a combination of the outright judgment and unconscious bias I felt from my peers. When enunciating in English, I have trouble with certain sounds, such as "i" and "ee." Words like “living” and “leaving,” for example, come out sounding the same. When I am really excited, mad, or nervous, my accent turns thick as can be. The harder I try to hide it, the more nervous and less coherent I get.
But now that I’m a few years and internships into my college experience, I’ve come to realize something: I was so busy feeling embarrassed about how I might sound that I failed to consider the benefits of being fluent in English and Spanish (and proficient in Hebrew). My trilingualism isn’t anything to be ashamed of. So for anyone who has ever perceived someone’s accent as a strike against that person’s capabilities – or for others with foreign accents who’ve also felt self-conscious – I urge you to keep in mind these five perks of speaking a little differently:
It is no secret that many companies are tackling diversity issues and want to recruit people from different backgrounds to join their teams. Not only does this look good on paper, but it also helps companies better understand their consumers or clients. My unusual Jewish and Latino background means I have a unique point of view and can more easily bring the perspectives of particular cultural groups to the table. When I interned at a nonprofit that connects immigrants and employers, teammates would reach out to me to learn more about Venezuela. And at the request of the web developers, I would review Hebrew and Spanish versions of the company website to fact-check our translations.
I don’t mean to brag; science supports this. Because I learned how to speak Spanish, English, and some Hebrew at an early age, my brain is wired differently. Studies prove that being bilingual improves cognitive and creative problem-solving skills, both of which are definitely useful in the workplace.
Whenever I walk down the street, roam the supermarket aisles, or even visit a mall, I am acutely aware of my environment. I have to think both in Spanish and English (and, depending on where I am, Hebrew) and prompt my brain to answer in the appropriate language. These extra few moments force me to process situations more carefully, and this carries over to my work.
Latino accents are too often associated with blue-collar jobs, immigrants, lack of education, and the working class. The number of stereotype-driven questions people have asked me is astounding. I wish these pre-conceived notions of who I am didn’t exist, but because of them, I work twice as hard to prove that I am capable of excelling.
Companies are becoming increasingly international, and since I am fluent in both English and Spanish, I am an asset in their reaching multiple linguistic groups. I can proofread and create content in Spanish, ensuring that companies do not jeopardize their brands with translation or grammatical errors, and lend authenticity.
This post is adapted from an article originally posted on HerCampus.com.
Image courtesy of Orly Margulis