“Will I ever get over the embarrassment of people staring when I speak my mother tongue to my child?“
This is one of the most honest and relatable questions a parent has ever asked me—not just as a linguist or multilingualism specialist, but as a multilingual parent navigating the same journey of raising multilingual children.
And I feel it deeply.
Today we celebrate International Mother Language Day and you don’t know the story behind it, check out my blog post International Mother Language Day and why languages matter – it’s a powerful reminder of why linguistic diversity matters and why every language is worth fighting for.
But bravery isn’t just about grand movements or historical turning points. It’s not always loud, dramatic or revolutionary in the obvious sense. Because big change always starts small. And when it comes to speaking your native language, bravery happens on a deeply personal level – in the seemingly small, quiet, everyday choices we make.
Sometimes every single word we speak to our children in our home language is an act of courage. Often, it’s even an act of rebellion aginst societal norms and expectations. Every effort to keep a language alive, every struggle to find resources (or create them from scratch), every moment spent reinforcing what the world around us doesn’t always support – it all matters. Because in the end, language isn’t just about words – it’s about connection, identity, belonging and the
fundamental right to exist fully and unapologetically as you are.
So, as we celebrate International Mother Language Day today, I find myself reflecting yet again on what it really means to celebrate and preserve our languages – not just in theory, but in the raw, everyday reality of speaking them.
After almost 10 years of being a mom, I’ve come a long way – but I’ll admit, there’s still work to do. When my son was born, I often avoided speaking to him in Bulgarian, my native language while in enclosed public places. If I did, it was in a whisper, barely audible, because I had been reprimanded for speaking it in public before. Sometimes, I even switched to another language – not because I wanted to, but because deep down, I felt the pressure to blend in. To integrate. To not stand out too much.
Little did I know that I’d always be different – so I might as well celebrate it.
The raw truth? I still hesitate sometimes. No matter how much of a thick skin I’ve built over the past 25 years of living outside my home country, I still catch myself feeling uneasy when people give me that look. I still feel a flicker of discomfort when I sense someone judging, questioning or dismissing my language. It shouldn’t feel like a struggle – but sometimes, it does.
The looks. The subtle shifts in body language. The outright comments. They stick. And they suck!
And that’s why today is more than just a date on the calendar – it’s a call to reclaim our right to speak freely. And that’s exactly why International Mother Language Day matters. It’s a powerful reminder that no one should ever feel the need to hide their language or silence a part of who they are. Speaking our home language to our children shouldn’t feel like an act of courage – but it does. All too often, it still does. And that’s precisely why powering through matters. Because every time we do, we show our children that their language, their identity and their voice are not just valid – they matter. That they deserve to take up space and to be heard.
I. The unspoken pressures of speaking a minority language
So, why does it feel uncomfortable?
We live in societies that claim to embrace diversity, yet true belonging often seems to come with an unspoken condition – assimilate or risk standing out. It is rarely a simple either-or situation. On the surface, inclusion looks great. But scratch beneath it, and the cracks start to show. And while progress is happening, there’s still a long way to go.
It’s that hyper-awareness of suddenly feeling too visible when you switch languages in public. The feeling of being too foreign, too different – just too much.
But here’s the truth:
✅ You have every right to to take up space and speak your native language – anywhere, anytime.
✅ You don’t need permission to exist in your language. No explanations. No justifications.
✅ Your child is watching. The way you carry your identity will shape how they carry theirs. They won’t ask questions – they’ll be guided by your subtle cues. The hesitation, the discomfort, the pride, the confidence. They’ll mirror what they see.
The question is:
What message do you want to pass on?
Here are some of the most common mental roadblocks parents face when it comes to speaking their native language in public:
1.Fear of being judged – the silent (or not-so-silent) scrutiny
Many parents worry about how others perceive them when they speak their native language in public, especially if they already feel like outsiders in their community. It’s that uncomfortable moment when you become hyper-aware of your surroundings, questioning whether speaking your language will draw unwanted attention.
Ever experienced “the look”? That fleeting side-eye, the raised eyebrow or the subtle shift in body language when someone overhears an unfamiliar language. It may not always be outright hostility, but it’s enough to make parents second-guess themselves.
On top of that, some multilingual parents feel pressure to show they are proficient in the majority language, fearing that speaking their home language might make them seem less competent or integrated.
2. The ‘It’s Rude’ dilemma – navigating social norms & considerations for others
One of the most common concerns I hear from parents time and time again is:
💭 “I feel it’s rude to speak my native language when others around me don’t understand it.”
This thought seems to come up in public and private spaces alike:
- At the playground, when you’re talking to your child and other children don’t understand.
- In group settings, where you worry about making people feel excluded or ignored.
- At daycare/school drop-offs, where the dominant language is the expected default.
- At home, when one of the partner’s doesn’t understand the other one’s native language.
I get it. No one wants to be perceived as rude or inconsiderate.
But is it really rude – or is it just unfamiliar to those around us? Let’s shift the perspective.
✅ When you speak your language to your child in front of others who don’t understand it, you’re not shutting them out – you’re inviting them in. You’re sharing a piece of your world, your heritage, your story. Unfamiliar languagea aren’t about exclusion – they are about expansion.
✅ Speaking your language isn’t about closing doors—it’s about opening minds. It’s an opportunity for exposure.
✅ Speaking your language in front of your child’s friends – especially those who don’t speak it – doesn’t exclude them; it invites them in. Kids are naturally curious, so why not turn it into a learning situation? Take a moment to explain what you’re saying and why. Share a fun word or phrase, spark their interest and show them that different languages aren’t barriers – they’re bridges; they are open doors. Lean into the opportunity to educate, connect and expand their world.
3. The desire to belong and the internal conflict
But let’s be honest – it’s not always about external pressure. Sometimes, the environment you live in is actually welcoming and non-judgmental. Yet, there’s another beast to face – the internal struggle that many multilingual parents face. That quiet voice in your head questioning whether you’re doing the right thing, whether you’re making things harder for your child or whether speaking your language will somehow create distance instead of connection. It’s an invisible weight, one that can be just as powerful as any external judgment.
💭 “I want to practise the majority language so I can integrate and belong.”
💭 “I don’t want to be seen as different.”
💭 “If I keep speaking my language, am I keeping myself and my family from truly belonging?”
The desire to fit in and belong somewhere is human nature. We want to build relationships, be part of the community and connect. We want to be accepted. And sometimes, it feels like speaking the majority language is the key to that.
Here’s the danger though:
🚨 If you constantly prioritise comfort over authenticity, your child will start internalising that message.
🚨 If you hesitate or switch languages out of fear, your child will pick up on it. They may not fully understand why, but they’ll get the unspoken message. Over time, they’ll start drawing their own conclusions – associating your language with discomfort, uncertainty or something to be avoided rather than embraced.
🚨 If they learn that their language isn’t “welcome”, they might (and probably will) eventually reject it themselves.
🛠 Reframe:
- You don’t have to erase your language or who you are to belong.
- Speaking your language is an act of self-acceptance and confidence. It is an act of self-respect.
- Your child will feel empowered to embrace who they are if they see you doing the same.
4. The shame factor – when your language feels (and is) ‘low-status’
For some, the struggle isn’t just about fitting in – it’s about carrying a language that has been historically marginalised or viewed as ‘lesser than.’ It’s about speaking a language that, in the specific environment you live in, is considered low status or simply not worth preserving. The weight of those perceptions can be heavy, making it even harder to pass on the language with confidence.
💭 “People don’t seem to respect my language here.”
💭 “I get weird looks every time I speak it in public.”
💭 “It’s not one of the ‘fancy’ languages people respect.”
This one hits deep. Bulgarian isn’t exactly a popular language and it carries a ton of baggage. When I speak it, I don’t get the intrigued smiles or admiration that languages like French or Italian seem to spark. Instead, I get the looks – the ones that make you feel like you don’t quite belong, that you are different. And honestly? That stings. But here’s what I remind myself:
✅ A language’s value isn’t dictated by how others perceive it.
✅ If I treat my language as something I need to hide, my child will feel the same way.
✅ Every language carries history, culture and identity – and that is always worth preserving.
5. Navigating the social pressures
Parents aren’t just worried about how they are perceived – they’re also concerned about how speaking a different language might affect their child’s social interactions. And this is a big one.
Children are constantly evolving, adapting to new social circles and shifting dynamics. But one thing remains constant: their desire to fit in, to measure up to their peers. This need for belonging only intensifies with age, making it a delicate balancing act for parents who are trying to nurture their home language while ensuring their child feels socially secure.
Here’s where the challenges come in:
✅ Avoiding ‘Othering’ – Children learn social cues early. If their parent speaking a different language leads to strange looks or social exclusion of any form, they might resist using their home language. Often parents follow along by switching to the majority language in public settings – sometimes even without realising it.
Let me share a personal moment that hit me hard. I volunteer in my children’s school library. One day, as I was scanning books for kids in line, my son walked up. When it was his turn, I casually asked him something in Bulgarian. He didn’t respond. I asked again. And then came the hiss. In English, he whispered, “Mom, don’t speak Bulgarian with me at school.”
That was the first time he’d ever said something like that, so I was absolutely shocked. And let me be clear – no one had laughed at him before, ever! No one had mocked him or so much as made a comment. It wasn’t about what had happened. It was about what he assumed might happen if other children heard us. Let this sink in for a moment.
✅ Fear of discrimination – Parents who have personally faced discrimination may worry that speaking their language will make their child an easier target. They might switch to the majority language to protect them, especially in environments where xenophobia or linguistic bias is prevalent.s
The instinct to protect our children is natural. But shielding them too much from their linguistic identity can send the unintended message that speaking their home language is risky or undesirable.
So what did I do after my son’s reaction? We had a long conversation that evening. And we’ve continued to talk about it. Because this isn’t a one-time challenge – it’s an ongoing journey. It’s a delicate balancing act, but one thing is for sure: Consistency in your messaging matters. Stay the course, keep the conversations open and, most importantly – don’t let fear decide the fate of your child’s home language.
Transforming fear into strength
Speaking your native language is not just about passing on words – it’s about passing on self-worth and courage.
Every time you:
✅ Speak your language with confidence, your child learns that it matters.
✅ Ignore the stares, you teach them not to shrink themselves.
✅ Hold on to your linguistic identity, you give them permission and a stage to do the same.
So, as we celebrate International Mother Language Day, ask yourself:
💭 Am I giving my child the right conditions to feel proud of their language?
💭 What message am I sending about the value of our heritage?
💭 How can I be a little bit braver today than I was yesterday?
I know I’m not the only one who’s felt this way. Have you ever felt self-conscious about speaking your native language in public?How did you handle it?
The way we show up in our languages today shapes how our children carry them tomorrow. Let’s make sure they carry them with pride!
Title image by João Jesus on pexels.com
