Just Speak English: When Your Heritage Language Isn’t Your Thinking Language

Early Encounters with Language

When I was born, my introduction to language came primarily through television. From my crib, I listened to English rather than Tagalog. In many Filipino households, exposure to English-language media is common; however, this meant that before I could fully comprehend my environment, I was absorbing a language that was not native to my family or culture.

Growing Up Between Languages

As I grew older, English became the language I felt most comfortable speaking, even though I was born and raised in the Philippines. This comfort, however, was not without its challenges. I was often perceived as foreign, both in my manner of speaking and in my behaviour. The language that brought me clarity also made me stand out as different.

English shaped the way I expressed myself, often aligning my perspectives with more Western ways of thinking. Yet I was living in a society that valued more conservative forms of expression, where restraint was expected. I found myself constantly adjusting—never quite fitting in with either way of thinking.

The Friction of Fluency

What frustrated me most was not simply the difficulty of learning Tagalog, but the reactions I received when I tried. Mistakes were often met with the suggestion to “just speak English.” Instead of making communication easier, this discouraged me from trying. Language became something to navigate carefully, rather than a skill I could develop and improve over time. What should have been a bridge became a source of hesitation and uncertainty.

Migration and Identity

When I moved to Canada, I expected the tension around language to disappear. In many ways, it did; speaking English came naturally, and, for the first time, I didn’t have to second-guess my fluency. However, the transition was not as straightforward as I had imagined.

Despite my proficiency, my accent marked me. In Canada, I was still identified by my origins—a different kind of awareness, less restrictive but still present. Among Filipinos, I could seem too Western; among Canadians, I remained distinctly Filipino. In this way, I found myself caught between two worlds.

Shared Experience and Reflection

This experience is not unique to me. Many Filipinos navigate the same tension, balancing languages that come with their own expectations, histories, and identities. This situation raises a persistent question: how much of our identity is tied to the fluency with which we speak a language?

For a long time, I believed language was something against which to measure myself—something to master or to get right. But over time, I’ve come to see things differently.

Language, Belonging, and Intention

Fluency does not define identity. It does not determine belonging, nor does it measure how deeply we are connected to our roots. Language is only one way we express our connection to where we come from.

What matters more is the intention behind our words—the willingness to engage, to understand, and to carry both our past and our present with us.

Finding Space Between Languages

I still speak Tagalog—imperfectly and sometimes with caution. I speak English with ease, though never without awareness. Somewhere between the two, I have learned that identity is not confined to a single language. It exists in the space between them.