Once I saw a meme saying that listening to international students talking is always interesting, because you would not be able to understand the majority of their conversations, while some of your familiar words pop up occasionally. I’m not going to lie, but this is my daily circumstance. I call it multilingual dilemma, a dilemma that all multilingual people need to face.
Before I moved to the States, I always believe that speaking multiple languages is a superpower. It seems to be so cool that I was able to speak three languages: Mandarin, Cantonese, and English, while others can only speak their mother tongue fluently. It was a skill that can impress other people at social gatherings, make traveling easier, or even offer more opportunities when looking for a job. But as I mastered these languages more proficiently, something unexpected happened — I began to speak less.
the burden of choice: which language shouLd I use?
One of the biggest challenges of being multilingual is the non-stop decision making process. Each language carries its own cultural weight, nuances and expressions. Shouldn’t knowing more languages make communication easier, not harder? Shouldn’t my multilingual brain be a thriving hub of conversations, effortlessly switching between dialects and accents? Instead, I found myself hesitating before speaking, second-guessing word choices, and sometimes opting for silence when I couldn’t decide which language felt most appropriate.
In most occasions, there’s no one-to-one translation between languages. This is that main trouble for me being a multilingual. When you’re monolingual, you might seem to have no choice but speak that only language you know. But for people who can handle multiple languages, the problem become: Which language will this person understand best? The word or phrases in which language will capture the exact sentiment I want to express? Sometimes, this mental back-and-forth takes longer than the conversation itself, leading to a frustrating silence.
Even talking to friends who share the same multilingual background, we often engage in a similar delicate balance. Should I stick to one, or should I mix? If I switch mid-sentence, will they follow, or will it make the conversation disjointed? Even worse, will they think I am showing off my language skills? The awareness of these unspoken entanglement ties my tongue in the end.
the fear of imperfection: Am i speaking this language correctly?
I have always been painfully aware of my limitations in learning languages. The more I know, the more I notice my mistakes. This phenomenon, often called the “imposter syndrome of multilingualism,” means that even though I may be fluent, I constantly worry about grammatical errors, mispronunciations, or cultural missteps. I deeply feel the pressure to sound native in every language I use — which seems to be impossible. I understand that even monolingual people could have dialects when speaking their languages, but I sometimes just opt for not speaking anything at all to conceal my embarrassment. I talked to myself, “Yes, you are an introvert, so there’s nothing wrong if you just remain silent.”
Identity crisis: Am I the same person when speaking different languages?
Language is more than just a tool for communication: it’s more like a reflection of identity. For multilingual people, identity is fluid. The language I speak at a certain does not simply change the way I express myself, but more importantly, who I feel like in that moment. There’s a joke saying “the English native speakers would never know how humorous I am in my native language.” And that’s true: I am funnier in one language, more articulate in another, and more sentimental in yet another. But this flexibility sometimes leaves me wondering — Who am I, really?
I often find myself mimicking the speech patterns and preferences of those around me, adjusting my linguistic identity based on the environment I’m in. I was empowered this adaptability in my growth, but I also feel a loss of authenticity. If I’m constantly switching, do I ever truly express myself in a way that is 100% me?
I’ve also begun to appreciate that sometimes, silence isn’t a bad thing. It’s okay to listen more than I speak. Being multilingual doesn’t mean I have to use every language all the time — it means I have the ability to choose when and how I want to communicate. And sometimes, choosing silence is just as powerful as choosing words.