The Accent

Someone once asked me where I was from. I used to think it was obvious.

There's a deep pride in Liverpool around our accent. It's worn like an identity. I liked that the way I spoke could instantly tell you something about me. That it marked me as someone not from a privileged background, and hinted at my working-class values of solidarity, authenticity and fairness.

My accent was never particularly strong, to be fair. And it's absolutely still there (especially after a few pints!), but it's definitely softened over the years. It's a little more ambiguous now.

Twenty years away from your hometown can change how you sound. But so will absorbing what sounds "professional" when your own voice isn't the reference point.

I didn't consciously decide to smooth my edges. But somewhere along the way, I learned what got heard as credible and senior. And my accent shifted.

Which is why I'm sceptical when organisations talk about "bringing your whole self to work."

The phrase suggests authenticity is just a choice to make. But it doesn't question why some whole selves require less adaptation than others.

My accent didn't soften because I wasn't being authentic. It softened because I learned what acceptable sounds like in professional spaces.