This year marks 25 years since I moved to the UK — and 26.5 years of my life spent outside of France. That’s more than half my life. And one thing I’ve always held onto with pride is my English accent.
At 19, when I returned from the US, people would ask me where I was from because I had a “colourful” accent. When I said I was French, they’d often follow up with: “Are you French Canadian?” I used to love that. It meant I was doing something right. Even now, when my children have friends over, they’re often surprised to learn I’m French. “Your mum sounds English!” they say. And that always makes me smile — because I worked hard for it.
Why I Chose to Master English — and What It Gave Me
When I moved to the UK, I didn’t know a soul. I had no professional network. I remember phoning landlords to enquire about renting a room — and having them hang up on me. I know I was turned down for jobs simply because I wasn’t English. That was tough.
So I took control of what I could: my language.
I wanted to speak well — not just fluently, but confidently and professionally. I didn’t want to be “the nice French girl next door.” I wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to be a respected professional and a successful businesswoman in my own right.
And I made it happen. My command of the English language is something I’m extremely proud of. It’s part of what built the business I run today.
But then yesterday, I had a call that brought all this back.
A man, who has lived in the UK for ten years, asked for help improving his English. His English was excellent — our conversation flowed naturally. But he said: “My accent isn’t very good. I think it’s stopping me from getting promotions at work.”
Accent Anxiety Is Real — But It Shouldn’t Hold You Back
Of course, I will help him. One of my most senior English coaches will support him in every way possible. But I’ll be honest — I felt a deep sadness.
Not because he wants to improve — that’s admirable. But because somewhere along the way, someone made him believe his perfectly understandable accent was a weakness.
And it shouldn’t be.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to refine your accent — if you enjoy the challenge, have a musical ear, or simply love the process of language learning.
But it should never come from a place of shame.
It should come from self-growth. From pride. From ambition.
Think of it like this:
You could be a brilliant jogger — fit, consistent, and running daily. You might not finish in the top 20 of the London Marathon, but does that make you any less of a runner? Absolutely not. You’re doing something extraordinary.
It’s the same with language and accent: you can be perfectly capable, articulate, and successful — even if you don’t sound exactly like a native speaker.
So yes — let’s continue to better ourselves. Let’s celebrate progress.
But let’s also celebrate our voices — however they sound.
Let’s focus on being clear, confident communicators.
And let’s never let an accent make us feel like we don’t belong.
P.S. : The only time I really hear myself speaking is when I’m recording something for work, in front of the camera — like the moment captured in the photo above.
Like most people, I think we all cringe a little when we hear our own voice played back — we become hyper-aware of every word, every sound, every tiny imperfection.
A few years ago, I would’ve asked the videographer to re-record the same message over and over until I got the “perfect” take — the right accent, no grammatical slip-ups (and I never work from a fixed script!).
But these days? I let it slide. Because I’m confident in the way I communicate. Even if I mispronounce something or say something slightly off, I know the message lands. And that’s what matters.
And that’s exactly what I wish for our learners — and for all learners of foreign languages:
The confidence to express themselves without fear of imperfection.
To focus less on getting every word right, and more on making sure the message truly connects.
Because communication isn’t about perfection — it’s about connection.