My daughter is almost two years old. She's becoming a big sister soon, as a sibling is due later this year. She wakes up calling for my wife and me. We talk to her in English, whether it's play time or feeding. And she also picks up some Bahasa Indonesia phrases from everyone around her. Privately, I talk to her in Cebuano since it's the language I used back home in Cebu in the central Philippines.
Yes, I have to admit that my English is not perfect either. I stumble here and there. But I can articulate what I'm trying to say and understand what the other person is saying in English. English is still English, whether it sounds and feels different or not. It's the default lingua franca of the international community, and people speak it to varying degrees of proficiency and comprehension.
Having said that, I want my kid to be multilingual, with a strong foundation in English to begin her life. Language is not just a way to communicate but a way to get ahead in life. Speaking the base language would mean she could communicate with almost 500 million Filipinos and Indonesians worldwide. Having English would further increase her capabilities.
But I know what's waiting for her. I've seen it. I've lived it.
The term "native speaker" has haunted my professional life since I graduated with my History degree two decades ago. Back then, I thought it was just another box to tick on job applications. Now, as I watch my daughter starting to grasp the different languages before she can even write her name, I understand it for what it truly is: an arbitrary border drawn by the language gatekeepers, policed by those who confuse skin color with mother tongue.
The Numbers Don't Lie
Here's what makes this particularly confusing: the Philippines consistently ranks among the top Asian countries for English proficiency. In the 2025 EF English Proficiency Index, we scored 569 points in the "high proficiency" territory, second only to Malaysia in Asia. We're ranked 28th globally out of 123 countries, well above the global average of 477 points.
Yet here's the kicker: Singapore was recently 'removed' from the EF EPI entirely. Why? Because they've been reclassified as a "native English-speaking country." English is an official language there as well, and everyone speaks it as a first language, so suddenly they don't count as non-native anymore.
Let that sink in. The moment a significantly developed non-Western country achieves widespread English fluency, we move the goalposts. We change the definition. "Native English" isn't about proficiency anymore, it's about pedigree.
A Friend's Tale
I need to tell you about my friend. Let's call her Maria. Ten years teaching English at one of Cebu's most prestigious private schools. Certifications stacked like bricks. She has an impressive resume with English teaching at its core, aside from her Bachelor's degree in Linguistics and English Teaching.
In 2015, she applied for a position at an international school in Bangkok. She made the shortlist along with two other candidates. The other two were European but not from the UK or Ireland. Neither had teaching credentials. Neither had more than a year of classroom experience.
The school decided to hire one of them. He lasted eight months before continuing his gap year through Southeast Asia. Maria is still teaching in Manila, still wondering what "neutral accent" means when her students score perfect 9s on their IELTS speaking tests.
This isn't about sour grapes (or maybe it is). The point is that a global industry uses "native speaker" as shorthand for "white and Western," while simultaneously claiming the term is purely linguistic. Many schools that often hire a Westerner tend to advertise it to attract more students. That's really problematic for other people falling into this kind of trap. When employers advertise for "perfect American English" or "neutral accent," they're not describing a measurable skill set. They're describing a particular archetype that usually looks like someone who could star in a Hollywood movie about teaching abroad.
The Digital Plantation
I work in digital marketing now. I write copy that converts, content that ranks, strategies that scale. I'm part of an invisible army of Filipino copywriters, content creators, virtual assistants, and call center agents who keep the internet's lights on while earning fractions of what our "native speaker" counterparts make.
We ghostwrite for American CEOs. We manage social media for British brands. We create email sequences that generate millions in revenue for clients who will never know our names, who assume their "native speaker" consultant is the one doing the heavy lifting.
The British Council has noted this phenomenon: the pervasive hierarchy where "the more distant a speaker is from this 'inner circle', the less valid, prestigious and desired their English is." There is a global wage gap built on linguistic racism that no one is talking about. A "native speaker" with a high school diploma and a TEFL certificate can command rates that Filipino English teachers with master's degrees can only dream of.
And we let it happen because we need the work. Because our economy runs on remittances from OFWs and digital creatives, many of whom are English teachers, virtual tutors, and content creators selling their fluency to survive.
The Historical Trap Door
As a historian, I see the pattern. The "native speaker" concept is just the latest iteration of old exclusionary tools.
In early 20th-century Australia, the government administered the "dictation test" to immigrants with passages in any European language, designed to be failed. At Ellis Island, immigrants faced wooden puzzles testing "intelligence," administered by eugenicists who believed certain genes made better citizens. These weren't assessments of capability. They were rituals of exclusion, dressed in scientific language.
Sadly, the colonial mentality forces Filipinos to keep in line with the thinking that sounding like a 'native speaker' is a ticket to acceptance.
Today's IELTS and TOEFL requirements serve a similar function. Yes, they measure proficiency. But they also create a lucrative industry of gatekeeping, where the ability to pay for test prep and the cultural knowledge of standardized testing becomes as important as actual communication skills. I've watched brilliant Filipino professionals denied visas because they scored 6.5 instead of 7.0, while "native speakers" need no proof of their own literacy.
The Varieties of 'Nativeness'
Here's what makes the term truly absurd: if "native speaker" simply means someone who grew up speaking English, then why do we treat it as a monolith?
A New York cab driver and an Idaho potato farmer both grew up with English, but their dialects diverge wildly. An Irish pub owner and an Australian bush wrangler share a colonial history but sound nothing alike. Yet all are "native speakers." All are welcome in the club.
But my daughter, who will grow up with English as her household language, will probably be categorized as "non-native" because of her brown skin and her passport. The term collapses under its own contradictions the moment we apply it honestly.
Here's the part that really gets me. Research from the BBC and intercultural communication experts reveals that 'native English' speakers are often the worst at international communication.
Why?
Because native speakers often talk too fast, use idioms and slang that don't translate, make cultural references that exclude others, and don't feel the need to adapt. As communication trainer Chia Suan Chong notes, "A lot of native speakers are happy that English has become the world's global language. They feel they don't have to spend time learning another language."
Non-native speakers, meanwhile, speak more purposefully and carefully. They use simpler, clearer language. They check for understanding. They've had to learn to communicate across linguistic boundaries because they do it every day.
What This Means for My Kids
As mentioned above, we speak English as a bridge language in our household. Our daughter is growing up multilingual by necessity, not by choice.
I want her to grow up believing her voice matters regardless of accent. But I know the world will tell her otherwise. She will see job postings requiring "native speakers." She will encounter the assumption that English proficiency equals Western nationality. She will face the subtle and not-so-subtle racism that equates language ability with skin color.
The term "native speaker" hasn't aged well because it was never designed to age well. It was designed to maintain hierarchies in perceived colonial, racial, cultural, and socio-economic bias. It blocks qualified people from jobs, creates additional hurdles for those who get hired, and perpetuates the myth that language ownership belongs to the West.
Dismantling the Bias
The TESOL International Association has stated that "non-native English-speaking educators have found themselves often implicitly, and sometimes explicitly, discriminated against in hiring practices." They recommend assessing English language proficiency, teaching experience, and professionalism rather than "native speaker" status.
Some countries are waking up. Singapore's reclassification is a start. But we need to go further. We need to retire "native speaker" as a job requirement. We need to recognize that English proficiency is a skill, not a birthright. We need to value the multilingual perspective that Filipino teachers, writers, and communicators bring. We have the ability to navigate between languages, cultures, and contexts that monolingual "native speakers" often lack.
The Philippines has been speaking English for over a century. We've produced world-class writers, teachers, and communicators. We've powered the global BPO industry and the digital content economy. We rank higher than many countries in English proficiency indices.
But more importantly, we've learned to communicate across boundaries. That ability to bridge worlds is worth more than any "native speaker" label.
It's time we stopped letting archaic standards haunt our hiring practices. The future of English is global, multilingual, and diverse. The "native speaker" myth belongs in the history books right next to other outdated ideas about who gets to own language, culture, and opportunity.
My daughter deserves better. My friend deserved better. The 1.3 million Filipinos working in BPOs, the thousands teaching English abroad, and the countless writers and communicators working in the shadows of "native speaker" requirements all deserve better.
The language belongs to those who use it. And we use it well.
This piece is inspired by a Substack article The Myth of the "Native Speaker" by Cristina Lozano Arguelles.
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