Nyleek Moore

Professor Albuerme

English 110

December 1st, 2025

 

                                                                                                      Language Bias and Code Switching

I grew up in Harlem, New York, surrounded by a mix of languages and styles of English that shaped how I understood communication long before I had the words for it. My friends spoke in all kinds of ways; some mixed English and Spanish into Spanglish, some usedAAVE or “hood English,” some spoke with Caribbean or West African accents, and others sounded like they came straight out of a professional setting. Back then, I didn’t think much of it; it was just normal. But being exposed to all these different ways of speaking ended up giving me a unique perspective on language and how people get judged for the way they sound. I saw firsthand how someone’s voice could change how serious people took them, how teachers responded to them, or how strangers decided whether they were “educated” or not. Code-switching is more than simply changing how one speaks; it exposes the pressures of language bias and reveals how society’s idea of ‘proper’ English can disadvantage people from diverse backgrounds by determining whose voices are considered legitimate.

One moment that sticks out happened right before a group interview for an internship. I was sittingat my desk waiting to be admitted into the Zoom call when an old friend called me out of nowhere. Without even thinking, I slipped into the language I grew up with—saying things like, “nah you buggin bro” and “that was lit.” But the second I heard the Zoom chime and got let into the interview, my entire voice shifted. Suddenly I was saying things like, “That’s an interesting point, could you expand on that?” and “Efficiency is my main concern.” Nobody told me to do this. It wasn’t planned or forced, It just happened.

Writing this made me realize that even though I know I code-switch, it’s hard to point to just one moment because it’s become almost automatic. It’s a habit I’ve built from living in different worlds: one at home, one in school, one in professional spaces and seeing which version of myself feels “acceptable” in each. This is exactly why this topic matters. Code-switching is more than simply changing how one speaks; it exposes the pressures of language bias and reveals how society’s idea of ‘proper’ English can disadvantage people from diverse backgrounds by determining whose voices are valued in society.

In “Should Writers Use Their Own English?” by Vershawn Ashanti Young, she does a great job at breaking down why people code switch and the biases that come with that. In this piece, Young argues that people should not be forced to abandon their natural speech patterns to sound “proper” or “professional.” Instead, he believes writers and people in general should be allowed to blend their languages and dialects, because this mix reflects who they are. Young pushes back against the idea that Standard English is the only correct or intelligent way to speak or write. He calls this belief “code-meshing,” not “code-switching,” because he wants people to mix their languages openly rather than hiding them. What stood out to me about his argument is how he exposes the double standard: society claims to value diversity, but when someone’s voice reflects their background, suddenly that diversity becomes “incorrect” or “unprofessional.” Young’s perspective helped inform my behavior around language and helped me see that switching between different versions of English is actually connected to a much bigger conversation about power, identity, and whose voices get taken seriously.

Young’s argument also connects to what I’ve personally experienced: the pressure to switch into Standard English to gain respect. When I spoke to my friend before the Zoom interview, I wasn’t thinking about grammar or “properness” I was just being myself. But the second I entered that professional space, something in me automatically shifted, because I knew that if I didn’t sound a certain way, the interviewers might see me as less capable. Young explains that this pressure doesn’t come from nowhere; it comes from years of being told—directly or indirectly—that sounding like yourself isn’t good enough. He argues that this mindset harms students and writers because it teaches them to shrink parts of themselves instead of expressing who they truly are. Reading his piece made me question why professionalism is tied so tightly to Standard English when so many brilliant, talented people do not speak that way.

NPR’s article “How Code-Switching Explains the World” expands on Young’s argument by showing how code-switching functions not just in writing, but in everyday life as a survival strategy shaped by racial and social bias. While Young argues that people shouldn’t have to abandon their natural voices to be taken seriously, NPR shows why so many people feel forced to do exactly that. The article explains that code-switching isn’t simply about shifting language; it’s about protection, acceptance, and navigating spaces where specific ways of speaking are judged harshly. This connects directly to Young’s point that Standard English holds unfair power, because NPR shows how that power plays out in real life for Black Americans who switch to avoid being labeled “uneducated” or “unprofessional.” Both pieces reveal the emotional labor behind constantly adjusting your voice, but NPR adds depth by showing the psychological stress and racial stereotypes that make code-switching feel necessary. Reading it made me reflect on my own Zoom interview moment, how even though I didn’t consciously think about switching, I still felt the pressure to present a “safer,” more accepted version of myself. Together, Young’s critique of language hierarchy and NPR’s real-world examples expose how deeply society’s expectations shape the way people speak and the identities they show.

The Harvard Business Review article “The Costs of Code-Switching” takes these ideas even further by touching on the emotional and psychological impact of constantly shifting the way you speak to meet expectations. The article breaks down how code-switching can help people advance professionally, but at the same time, it can make them feel like outsiders in their own identities. The point is that people who code-switch too often can feel drained or disconnected because they’re constantly calculating how they should sound instead of just speaking freely. When I read that, it made me think back to all the times I’ve switched from the regular slang I use to Standard English depending on who was around. I never really questioned why, it just felt necessary. But HBR points out that when someone constantly edits themselves, they start to feel like they’re not allowed to bring their full identity into certain spaces. That idea made me feel seen, because while code-switching helps me adapt, it also makes me wonder how I would be treated if I spoke the way I naturally do.

Amy Tan’s “Mother Tongue” builds on Young’s and NPR’s discussions of language biasby showing how multiple Englishes can coexist and remain meaningful, even when society dismisses them as “broken” or less intelligent. Like Young, Tan pushes back against the idea that Standard English is the only valid or respectable way to speak. She describes the different “Englishes” she uses with her mother, in school, and in her professional writing—each one carrying its own purpose, emotion, and identity. Tan’s personal stories reveal how people judge intelligence and credibility based on someone’s accent or grammar, which mirrors NPR’s point that code-switching often becomes a survival strategy to avoid being underestimated. But instead of showing the pressure to switch, Tan highlights the value of the languages people are pressured to hide. Her essay reminds us that what society calls “broken English” is actually full of meaning, culture, and history.

This connects to my own experience as someone who constantly shifts how I communicate depending on the space I’m in. With friends, I talk in a much more relaxed, informal way, and it feels natural because it matches who I am and how we interact. But in academic or professional settings, I always feel the need to switch into a more formal version of myself. I choose different words, adjust my tone, and make sure everything sounds “proper.” Reading Tan made me realize that this switch isn’t just about sounding professional; it’s about knowing how to reach the audience in front of me. Just like Tan uses different “Englishes” for different people, I have learned to shape my communication depending on whether I’m talking to professors, classmates, or people in my personal life.

Reflecting on my experiences growing up in Harlem, along with insights from Amy Tan’s “Mother Tongue,” Vershawn Ashanti Young’s “Should Writers Use Their Own English?”, and the Harvard Business Review article “The Costs of Code-Switching,” has shown me how language shapes perception and opportunity. From casual conversations with friends to professional settings, I’ve learned to code-switch, shifting my voice depending on who is listening. While this can open doors, the HBR article highlights the mental and emotional toll it takes, and Young reminds us that the bias lies not in the language itself, but in the attitudes of those in power.

Language is more than words; it’s identity, culture, and power. Understanding and questioning the biases tied to speech can help us move toward a world where language doesn’t limit opportunity, but instead allows everyone to fully express themselves without fear of judgment. 

 

Works Cited: 

McCluney, Courtney L., et al. “The Costs of Code-Switching.” Harvard Business Review, 15 Nov. 2019, hbr.org/2019/11/the-costs-of-codeswitching. 

Young, Vershawn Ashanti. “Should writers use they own English?” Writing Centers and the New Racism, pp. 61–72, https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt4cgk6s.7. 

Tan, Amy. “Mother Tongue.” The Threepenny Review, no. 43, 1990, pp. 7–8. Threepennyreview.com, www.threepennyreview.com/samples/tan.html