Op-ed: Assimilation, accents and how to be American enough

Op-ed: Assimilation, accents and how to be American enough Op-ed: Assimilation, accents and how to be American enough Sabrina Lopez, contributor October 13, 2026 Mary Dunn Leaving for college, for most, means leaving behind your mom’s freshly-baked cookies, the familiarity of your hometown and the comfort of your childhood friends. But for those of us moving away from our home countries, it means leaving behind your native language, your culture and familiar food for a foreign and strange land.  Not only do you have to adjust to the new culture and area, but also to your new status: foreigner. Validation for your successful assimilation becomes both pleasing to hear and a reminder that you will never be native.  “You have no accent!” is a comment I get in almost every interaction where my origin story surfaces. This common reaction suggests that my lack of a foreign accent surprises most people. Of course, it isn’t meant to offend, but to compliment. My assimilation is successful, thus impressive; my performance of American-ness is commendable; my foreignness is undetectable.  When I first heard this comment, I took it to be a good thing. The goal of the American dream is not only to achieve your dream, but to become American. It seemed a step toward that goal. Yet after what seemed like the billionth iteration, it started to feel uncomfortable and offensive. I was being complimented for not showing my nationality and identity. I hadn’t encountered these microaggressions in my home nation, so I didn’t know what they were or what these comments were insinuating.  Many of my reservations about calling this comment a microaggression stemmed from knowing it came from a place of ignorance. How could they know that the Philippines has English as an official national language, that Filipino schools teach in English or that a mix of Tagalog and English (Taglish) is how everyone communicates? How could they know I spent two years in Canada, that I went to an international school or that my parents only spoke to me in English? I took it as an opportunity to teach these people something about my nation or myself.  This, however, led me to question why assimilation is considered good. Why is having an obviously different background less desirable? In a country where immigration is its historical foundation, why is being an evident immigrant unwanted? If I spoke in my normal accent, would I be treated worse? Of course, I have an accent, but there’s no need to risk being misunderstood, mistreated and embarrassed. I’ve learned that it’s best, when in America, to speak American English. I knew instinctively that acting similar to any stereotype could negatively impact me. As a sociology major, I can tell you this isn’t something you learn exclusively in class. It’s instinctive to know that to be treated like everyone else, you must act like everyone else.  With the second-largest international student community in the U.S., Northeastern is no stranger to students with foreign accents. But most of the international (Filipino) students I came to this school with have undetectable accents by now. The fear of discrimination we carry is not unfounded. Academic research has found that foreign accents can make people less likely to trust that you are truthful; they affect credibility and perceived competence. Furthermore, depending on the type of accent, perceived credibility, competence and status can drop, threatening present and future relationships and opportunities dictated by professors, peers and employers.  But there’s a difference between the discrimination itself and the added vigilance it produces in us. Research has also shown that thinking you are experiencing accent discrimination can increase your fear and make you feel unconfident in intercultural situations. Overthinking about your accent can lead to limiting yourself in social interactions. Despite the costs of having an accent, overthinking and sacrificing your identity is not worth the slight benefits of winning first impressions.  Changing my accent to be American never diminished the scrutiny my identity faced. “Oh, but don’t you have an accent when you talk to your mom?” Actually, I put on my American accent to talk to people here. Otherwise, I have “no accent” when I talk to my mother.  “I’ve met Filipinos before, and they don’t sound like you,” is one often paired with mentions of some of our most popular foods, like adobo, ube and lumpia. The usual rationalization, “You sound American because you spent time in [Canada/international school],” is for when they have to create an explanation in their head to accept a part of my identity.  All of these phrases barrage almost every introduction. Instead of being accepted, being an international student means having to explain, to justify, to prove worthiness of existence in the face of ignorance, disbelief and judgment.  The cost of assimilating into America became apparent upon returning home to the Philippines. The similar comment of  “You have an American accent!” or “You sound white!” served as a new reminder that I no longer belonged at home. I had left. I had made a choice. No amount of code-switching could erase the language I had lost from not practicing Filipino or the way my tongue struggled to say that “ng” sound.  I used to think “You have no accent!” was a compliment I should collect, proof that I had done the hard work of belonging. Now, I hear it for what it is: a reminder of my otherness and a microaggression.  It is a phrase that says more about the listener’s assumptions than about my English. It shows that some people can be prejudiced or have unconscious biases. My accent does not mean I’m stupid or untrustworthy. It is a part of my identity that makes me interesting and unique, worthy of preservation. Assimilation asks immigrants to disappear a little to be believed. That’s not integration. It’s a sacrifice. If the American dream is built by people who came from somewhere else, then an accent shouldn’t be the thing you have to lose to prove you’ve arrived. It should be evidence that you did. Sabrina Lopez is a third-year sociology and international affairs combined major. Sabrina can be reached at lopez.sab@northeastern.edu. If you would like to submit a letter to the editor in response to this piece, email [email protected] with your idea. 2 Like This Story Share on Facebook Share on X Email this Story Print this Story Tags: international international students About the Contributors Sabrina Lopez, News Staff Mary Dunn, Deputy Design Editor Mary Dunn is a third-year Computer Science and Design major and deputy design editor of The News. She has been contributing to The News since fall of 2025 and is excited to continue strengthening its design through graphics and prints. Mary’s art and design work can be found on her portfolio website: https://dunnmar.myportfolio.com/work More to Discover More in Opinion Op-ed: The 2026 midterms are approaching, and it’s already rough for the establishment Op-ed: Are we finally ready to address sexual assault on campuses head on? 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