Why do we judge intelligence through English pronunciation?

I remember the first time a senior at work mocked me for mixing up the pronunciation of 'Z' and 'J.' It wasn't a big deal to me — I had grown up in Bangladesh, where English is not our mother tongue, and most of us learn the language through reading rather than listening. 

Yet, despite scoring an 8.5 on the IELTS, a test designed to assess English proficiency, I was subtly made to feel inadequate. Not because I lacked fluency or comprehension, but because I did not pronounce certain sounds the way a native English speaker would.

This isn't just my story. It's the story of countless South Asians who have internalised the idea that mastering English means mimicking the accent of native speakers. We live in countries where English is a second or even third language, yet we ridicule and diminish those who do not pronounce it with 'perfection.'

Why? Because we have been conditioned to believe that fluency equals intelligence—and intelligence, in turn, is measured by how "properly" one speaks English.

The internalised colonialism of language superiority

There is no denying that knowing English is an asset. It opens doors, grants access to better career opportunities, and allows global connectivity. But the obsession with a "perfect" English accent isn't about communication—it's about class, privilege, and a deeply rooted colonial hangover.

Look around the world. Spaniards, Arabs, Japanese, and Chinese—none of them feel the need to erase their accents. They understand that the purpose of language is to communicate, not to conform. Yet, in South Asia, we have convinced ourselves that sounding "local" while speaking English is a flaw. That a strong mother-tongue influence is something to be ashamed of.

How did we get here? Centuries of colonial rule ingrained in us the idea that the English language, and by extension, English mannerisms, are superior. Macaulay's infamous 'Minute on Indian Education' (1835) stated that the British needed to create a class of people who were "Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals, and in intellect." And so, English was elevated as the language of power. Generations later, we are still caught in that trap—associating the English language, and the "right" way of speaking it, with intelligence, sophistication, and class.

Western media's role in fuelling the insecurity

Hollywood and Western media have played a crucial role in reinforcing this insecurity. Characters like Apu Nahasapeemapetilon from The Simpsons and Raj Koothrappali from The Big Bang Theory are prime examples of how South Asian accents have been exaggerated and turned into comedic tropes. 

Apu's exaggerated Indian accent became a defining part of his character, making South Asians cringe whenever someone mimicked him. Raj's awkwardness and social ineptitude, paired with his thick accent, reinforced stereotypes that South Asians struggle with English and lack social fluency. These portrayals conditioned both Western audiences and South Asians themselves to see accented English as a marker of lower intelligence, foreignness, or comedic relief rather than competence and capability.

Even in professional settings, people with strong South Asian accents are often perceived as less competent, simply because they don't sound "neutral." Over time, this linguistic bias has seeped into South Asian societies themselves, where people mock each other's English instead of recognising that their own accents are part of a rich linguistic diversity.

The ridiculousness of pronunciation policing
The irony of it all? Many of us grew up learning English in schools where even the teachers had varying accents. We learnt it through textbooks, not conversations. Yet, when someone mispronounces a word or stresses the wrong syllable, we laugh. We mock. We correct with condescension.

But let's be real—who decides what the "right" pronunciation is? American English differs from British English. South Africans, Australians, and even Canadians have distinct ways of pronouncing the same words. And despite these differences, native English speakers from these regions are never made to feel inferior for how they sound. Then why are South Asians expected to speak in an artificial, neutralised accent to be taken seriously?

A double standard in encouragement

What makes this situation even more absurd is the stark contrast in how we treat foreigners learning our languages. When an English speaker comes to Bangladesh and tries to speak Bangla—even if they fumble, mispronounce words, or mix up sentence structures—we encourage them, praise them, and celebrate their efforts. We smile, we help them with corrections gently, and we make them feel welcome for even trying. The same happens in India and Pakistan—foreigners speaking Hindi, Urdu, or Tamil are often applauded for their attempt, no matter how flawed.

But do we extend the same kindness to our own people learning English? No. Instead, we shame them. We ridicule their mistakes. We judge them. Why are we so eager to uplift outsiders but so harsh on our own?

This contradiction exposes the deep-rooted inferiority complex that still lingers in our societies. It's as if we believe that English proficiency is an exclusive club, and if someone isn't speaking it flawlessly, they don't belong. Meanwhile, the rest of the world simply views language as a tool for expression—not a status symbol.

"As you have said in english, it must be correct"
A phrase that has gained popularity in Bangladeshi online discourse is "As you have said in English, it must be correct." This satirical comment has become a way for people to highlight the double standard in how we perceive English versus Bangla. It reflects the reality that if someone says something in English, it is automatically given more credibility, even if the content is flawed or illogical. 

This social media trend is a direct response to the deep-seated belief that English equates to intelligence and authority. It underscores just how much we have internalised the idea that language superiority exists—not based on clarity or logic, but simply on the medium in which the message is delivered.

The Need for a Perspective Shift

It's time we reframe our approach to English. Rather than judging someone's intelligence, credibility, or worth based on pronunciation, let's focus on the substance of what they're saying. The ability to articulate ideas, to debate, to negotiate—these are the skills that truly matter. If a person mispronounces a word, it doesn't mean they don't understand it. If someone speaks English with a heavy accent, it doesn't mean they are less competent.

We need to stop shaming and start listening. The next time you hear someone speak English with a strong Bangladeshi, Indian, or Pakistani accent, resist the urge to judge. Instead, ask yourself: Are they making a valuable point? Are they contributing to the conversation? Because at the end of the day, the purpose of language is communication, not elitism.

Let's break free from this colonial mindset and appreciate linguistic diversity for what it is—a testament to our history, our resilience, and our ability to bridge worlds on our own terms. Accent does not determine intelligence. Ideas do.

Rahat Ara Kabir Kheya is a B2B Development Manager at a multinational organisation.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.