My beloved parents are immigrants from Cambodia, and grew up speaking another language other than English. They didn’t learn English until later in their lives, which is why they speak it with such a thick accent. As their daughter, I don’t hear it that much. When they speak, all I hear is them and the words they want to say. But to others, all they can hear is my parents’ accent—they don’t hear the words they’re speaking or the point they are trying to get across. For others, my parents’ accent is all that encompasses them.

It’s okay to comment on how thick their accent is, it’s okay to point it out. But it’s not okay to scorn them for it, to say that since they’ve been living in America for so long they should already “know how to speak better”. It’s not okay to think of them as any less than you because they don’t speak English the way that you do. That didn’t sit well with me as a little kid, it doesn’t sit well with me today, it won’t sit well with me tomorrow, and it will never sit well with me for tomorrow’s tomorrow.

I’m proud of my parents’ accent. When I hear their Asian tongues pronounce the words of the English language, it brings me great joy. Because when I hear them speak, I’m not only hearing what they’re saying, but I hear their history. I hear their story. I hear the first confusing years in a new country that had a new language and a new alphabet. I hear the struggles they went through to learn all these new things and learn how to adjust to this new life. I hear their strength; I hear their success.

We shouldn’t shame people who speak English with an accent. That makes no sense to me. If anything, we should praise these people, these people who were strong enough and intelligent enough to take on another language and have the bravery to speak it—even if they have an accent while doing so. Even if it’s broken English. Because when it all comes down to it, they know more than one language, something that is both impressive and not easy to achieve. My dad knows three languages and my mom knows two languages. I believe that’s not something they should be criticized for, it’s something that should be applauded.

I actually grew up not knowing English first, either. I grew up speaking Khmer (the language of Cambodia) and I didn’t learn English until I went to pre-school. To this day, I still speak Khmer with my family. And yes, I do have a slight accent when I speak English. But would I trade my ability to speak and comprehend another language for the chance to speak with a perfect American accent?

No, I wouldn’t. I’m proud of the way I speak. It’s who I am, it reflects me as a person and—like with my parents—it shows my story. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.