Don’t Forget Where You Came From: The Power of Staying True to Your Voice

Today, I watched a talk show interview that stayed with me long after the screen went dark.

The guest—someone I’ve admired for a while—spoke confidently and with grace. But something felt different. Her voice, once familiar and rooted in a particular accent I used to relate to, now sounded… polished. Neutral. Almost unrecognizable. It wasn’t the message she shared that caught my attention—it was how she said it. Her accent, once rich with the tone of home, had disappeared.

Let me be clear: this isn’t about judgment. People grow. Voices change. We pick up the cadence of others. We shift based on where we live, who we work with, or what industry we move in. But watching her reminded me of something I think we don’t talk about enough: the pressure to "refine" ourselves into something more palatable. And how, in the process, we sometimes silence parts of who we are.

Why Do We Feel the Need to Change?

There’s a quiet, unspoken expectation in many spaces—especially professional or public ones—to sound a certain way. “Neutral” accents. “Proper” English. No slang. No dialects that hint at where we’re from. As though where we come from needs to be scrubbed out in order to be taken seriously.

I get it. I’ve felt that pressure too. I’ve softened my words in boardrooms, hesitated to speak too passionately, or held back phrases that might seem "too local." I’ve heard the snide comments: “You should speak like a presenter.” “No one will take you seriously if you sound like that.”

But who decides what’s “professional” or “intelligent” or “acceptable” in the first place? And why is it so often far from the way our parents, our communities, or our younger selves used to speak?

Your Accent Is Not a Flaw

Accents carry history. They’re living proof of geography, heritage, and identity. They reflect the neighborhoods we played in, the music we heard through our walls growing up, the way our grandparents spoke to us. Losing them doesn’t always mean growth—it can sometimes signal erasure.

What I wish the world understood is that sounding like “home” is not something to be ashamed of. In fact, it can be the most powerful form of authenticity.

Imagine the young kid watching that same talk show, hearing someone from their background speak just like them. Now imagine that guest altering everything that made her sound familiar. What message does that send?

We need more voices that don’t blend in. That sound like Johannesburg, Lagos, Atlanta, Birmingham, Mumbai, Manila. Voices that remind us we can be excellent without having to mimic anyone else.

Authenticity Isn’t Always Comfortable

Being authentic doesn’t mean staying the same forever. Growth is natural. Language evolves. But authenticity means staying aligned with who you are, even as you stretch and change. It means not abandoning your roots just to climb higher.

It’s not easy. Sometimes it means being misunderstood or underestimated. Sometimes it means having to explain where you’re from again and again. But it also means keeping your story intact—your full story, not just the parts others deem acceptable.

There’s power in not diluting yourself for the sake of fitting in. There’s courage in speaking in your own voice when the world tells you to change it.

A Note to That Guest—And Everyone Like Her

If the change in your voice came from a desire to grow or explore new spaces, I respect that. If it came from pressure—spoken or silent—I hope you remember that the version of you that speaks with the accent of home is still valid, still enough, still powerful.

To everyone who has felt the need to shift the way they speak to be heard: you’re not alone. But I hope you know that you don’t have to erase yourself to make an impact.

Speak proudly. Speak truthfully. Speak like you.

Because the world needs more real voices—and fewer echoes.

Personal Note to Readers:

I wrote this because I’ve felt this tension myself—between wanting to grow and succeed, but not wanting to lose my roots in the process. If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear your story.

Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments. Or if you just want to say “hey,” I’m listening.

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Stay real. Always.