I have always lived in a society in which the official language is not my mother tongue. I’m an “anglo-quebecer,” meaning that I was born and raised in Québec (and still live here!), but my mother tongue is English, rather than French, Québec’s official language.

​

From a young age, I was always fascinated by languages, and that started with French. Although I am now confidently bilingual, fluent in my third language (Spanish) and recently started my fourth (Turkish), the road to becoming bilingual was not easy for me, either emotionally or psychologically.

​

On the outside, it may have looked like I have always been confident in French. For example, I always did well at French in school, twice receiving awards for my positive attitude in French class. However, my relationship with French has never been truly positive – it’s been wrought with doubt, embarrassment, and ultimately, shame.

​

You see, I have French heritage on the paternal side of my family which is why my name is francophone. That means that on paper, people see my name and assume that French is my mother tongue; they would often even insert an accent aigu on the “e” in my name (“Valérie”) when none actually exists on my birth certificate.

​

In doctor’s appointments, phone calls with the government, or anywhere people see my name, it's assumed that French is my first language.

​

The simple fact that I have an English version of my name (Valerie) and a French version (Valérie) was actually very symbolic for me: it showed me that the presence or absence of this simple accent was enough to determine how people view me, and ultimately how I view myself: as either anglophone or francophone - or maybe better yet, as neither anglophone nor francophone. (This is actually why my business is named “Coaching Accent Aigu” - a little nod to my personal story, and to the way that identities can be built on the smallest details and assumptions.)

​

As soon as I would start speaking French, though, I would always get the same reaction. First a pause, then a look of confusion. Over the years, I interpreted these responses and the comments that I received in various ways, often to my own detriment. People would switch to English, or sometimes even become unpleasant after they had originally been friendly when they thought I was a native French speaker.

​

An accumulation of these incidents really eroded my confidence to the point where I would try to say as little as possible in French, or not speak at all. Ultimately, I let myself be a victim to the whims of others' beliefs, opinions, and moods.

​

Although in some ways there is a part of my identity that is francophone, which does feel true for me, what was unhelpful about this label was that I was expecting myself to have a native accent and be as comfortable as a native speaker would be. Having this expectation of myself led me to feeling shame over making mistakes, and shame over my accent that made me feel like I couldn’t belong in the province that I was born in.

​

I tried to escape these unpleasant thoughts and feelings by taking courses at various institutions. I took it upon myself to improve my French as much as I possibly could; I would seize any opportunity that came my way, and sought out even more. Although I became an advanced speaker through all of this effort and studying, I still felt like a clam in a shell when it came to speaking outside the classroom.

​

I realize now with coaching that it was not the experiences themselves that caused me to lose confidence: it was what I chose to believe about them. Like a lightbulb that was suddenly turned on, I knew that no matter how advanced my French was, if my mindset around my identity with the French language didn’t change, then neither would the shame or embarrassment that I felt when speaking.

​

It was a language that I felt both so close to and so distant from, and it was painful for me to hold a love for something that was so entwined with my own shame. Because buried beneath this shame, embarrassment, and doubt, was a truth anchored deep within me: I have always loved French. And I knew that the only way to be authentically me, was to own my francophone identity, with my anglophone inflection and all.

​

Thanks to doing mindset work and actively changing my beliefs about myself, I decided to belong. I decided that instead of waiting for others' seal of approval, I would give it to myself - I would legitimize myself for all of who I am. And that's when everything changed.

​

The results of these kinds of shifts for an English-speaker wanting to belong in Québec are truly transformational.

​

Imagine feeling more moments of calm and self-assuredness when speaking French.

​

Imagine networking in French, applying for that job you want in French, with the salary that you deserve.

​

Imagine heading to the family dinner with your francophone in-laws and feeling peace instead of stress.

​

I can't wait to help you own your French and truly belong in Québec.

​

Interested in finding out more? Book a free consultation with me to see how I can help you speak French with confidence:

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​