Letters | What the world loses when you quietly judge people by their accents

Years have passed since I left my hometown in Balochistan to pursue higher education, but my voice still carries my region: my accent, shaped by dust, distance and dialogue. It is not always embraced in urban cities, yet I wear it proudly. I once believed ideas and effort mattered more than how I sounded. Over time, I realised that in Pakistan, as in much of Asia and beyond, your accent often speaks louder than your competence.

In classrooms and workplaces, I have seen this play out time and again. Those from rural or less urbanised areas hesitate to speak up, fearing judgment. A single mispronunciation can invite quiet correction or outright laughter. The result is not improved fluency but growing silence, a silence that follows them across the world.

This is not unique to Pakistan. Across Asia and Africa, accents born in villages and small towns carry stories of journeys walked at dawn, markets that hum with life, and homes where generations learned to speak in their own way. Yet those voices often meet quiet judgment.

But honestly, this is culture. Accents are inheritances from ancestors, vessels of history and carriers of memory. They hold the richness of our lands, the cadence of our communities and the essence of our identity. If we lose them, we erase centuries of heritage, leaving silence where diversity once thrived. What remains then of our ancestors’ voices?

A 2025 meta-analysis found that non-standard-accented candidates were considered less hireable than their standard-accented counterparts, regardless of qualifications.

An accent is a vocal fingerprint, a living trace of the land and language that shaped us. The truth is, until we respect every voice – in Karachi, Hong Kong, Cape Town or Jakarta – we’ll keep mistaking silence for sophistication.