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I have always had this fear of being rejected, looking worse in the eyes of someone else, and being ridiculed for my attempts at becoming a better native speaker. Despite the rapid development of AI, I still find it difficult to overcome this insecurity. The reason could be the elitist and perfectionist society we have become, where uncensored comments with indirect bullying flood the posts of many creatives and celebrities. Explicit wording has slowly decayed into a combination of metaphors with carefully chosen adjectives and nouns. At what point in time have the minds of people undergone such a transformation? As if being perceived as a second-class citizen was not enough…
My attempts at becoming a fluent speaker are paying off, but there is still a lot of room for improvement. Passing a GCSE exam in English Language has served as an indication of my commitment to the society I will forever be a part of. In all honesty, the exam itself should become a requirement to enter the workforce. The sheer amount of writing practice allowed me to improve my critical thinking while providing me with an opportunity to better my creative writing skills. However, what it could not take away was my way of thinking.
Referring to exophony, I have read multiple articles on writers who have managed to become prolific in this field. The disparity is obvious when I begin to read more about them. Their societal class greatly differs from mine. The fact that some have swapped countries at a very young age or have studied privately puts me at the very bottom of the literate. I blame not their luck, but the lack of study and research into those from less privileged backgrounds. Never have I ever heard of a non-native speaker in his early or late 20s become a reporter, at least in the UK.
Diversity and the absence of training, and the failure to accept the novelty of artificial intelligence in the newsrooms, hinder the success of creative adult immigrants who too have their dreams of a white-collar career opportunity. Touting the word equality while showing zero interest in employing exophonic writers is like being a sell-out politician with no common sense for those striving to culturally integrate into journalism.
To narrow down the angle, I specifically refer to local journalism; newsrooms that seem to have a preference only for names of Anglophone resonance. Next time you read a news article – in print or online – look closer at the bylines. Many will reveal to you the reality many creative immigrants like me are facing. Our names have no meaning. As faceless hobbyists and enthusiasts, we fall into thinking that we are the ones to be blamed for our heritage. It is our parents’ fault for not having provided us with an opportunity for a future we wanted to have. Partially, it is true. Yet, we still have to take into consideration adults making a decision for themselves to change their nationalities.
Taking the step to change one’s passport is comparable to the leap of faith that might kill you in the end. If, when jumping, a body is indirectly aligned, the landing becomes fatal. The injuries followed leave you breathless, and in such agony that you’d rather wish to have landed on your head instead. A link of similarity is drawn up here, as that is how it feels while integrating into a new society. It is true that for natives it can be difficult to move up the ladder. Despite all the impediments they may tackle; however, a shared and sacred talent they may forget about is the language they speak.
Becoming a journalist, proficient interlocutor, writer, even a salesperson won't require a native English speaker to spend their 20s, 30s, or 40s studying the ins and outs of the language they speak. As a bonus, the career pool is a wide sea awaiting to be explored. If life for some reason did not work out as it was supposed to, find success somewhere else by moving to another English-speaking country. The second chance at having a clean start, without having to be physically reborn, allows multiple nations – Americans, Canadians, Australians, and the British – to revel in its countless opportunities. Likewise, matters of romance compliment the hidden talent.
I don’t know what my future has in store for me. Accountancy seems to be less fenced off and more tolerant towards foreigners. So to speak, I am finding myself working in this industry right now. Do I feel satisfied with myself? In a way, yes. There is a lot more interaction on the phone, more typing, and thinking involved. Do I feel like I’m fulfilling the purpose of my existence? No. I go to work, get paid. The cycle is a loop, and it is better than working in hospitality, which I am still a part of due to a low-wage salary. I am elated to have been accepted and taken on board; upset that it takes me so long to get into the industry I wish to be a part of. NCTJ college is next on my agenda, but the cost is so exorbitant.
And so, I had a choice: to follow the accountancy route without having to pay a dime or consider getting a journalism qualification in the hope of landing a job in the media. Devour food served on a platter or follow the spiced aroma? My preference falls for the latter, as numbers have never been my strength. There is nothing to hide about the fact that I have mild dyscalculia. I can count. It just takes me a considerable amount of time to complete a somewhat simple arithmetical task that my manager does within a split second. Taking into account people who have this disability, the creative industries suit us best.
