Karly

When most people hear “code-switching,” they think of bilingualism. Someone speaking Spanish at home and English at work. Someone who uses French with their grandparents and a weird international English with their classmates. Someone who moves fluidly between languages, often without realising it.

But code-switching is not just about languages. It’s about register. It’s about tone. It’s about adjusting how you speak depending on who you’re speaking to, and what version of yourself you want them to see.

It’s small talk with your dentist. It’s the voice you use on customer service calls. It’s the difference between “Can you send that over?” and “Hey bestie can u pls send that thing?” It’s linguistic shape-shifting. It’s strategy. And sometimes, it’s exhausting.

What Even Is Code-Switching?

In linguistics, code-switching is the practice of shifting between different codes in a single interaction. A “code” can be a language, dialect, or register, basically, a way of speaking that follows a particular set of social rules.

Sometimes the switch is clear: one sentence in English, the next in Korean. Sometimes it’s subtler: changing from formal academic English to a relaxed, meme-inflected tone in a group chat. These shifts can be unconscious, or deliberate. They can be functional, social, or emotional.

Most of us do it constantly. We’re just not always aware.

Code-Switching and Face

According to politeness theory, we all have “face”, our public self-image. We want to maintain our own face while respecting others’. When we speak, we’re constantly managing this. Code-switching is one of the tools we use.

Switching to a more formal register when speaking to a professor? That’s preserving their positive face (showing respect) and your own negative face (avoiding being seen as rude or overfamiliar). Cracking a joke to break the tension in a group presentation? That’s face work too, using a different tone to reduce the threat of sounding too serious or boring.

But here’s the thing: code-switching is not always neutral. Sometimes, it’s a face-threatening act in itself.

When Switching Hurts

For many speakers, especially those navigating multiple cultures, languages, or social groups, code-switching can feel like survival. It’s how you make people comfortable. It’s how you avoid being perceived as too “other,” too “casual,” too “emotional,” too “academic,” too “much.”

And that comes at a cost.

Shifting registers to sound “professional” can sometimes mean erasing parts of how you naturally speak. Changing dialects to be taken seriously can feel like choosing between authenticity and opportunity. Even switching from one tone to another, from sincere to sarcastic, from warm to blunt, can trigger anxiety about how you’ll be perceived.

You’re not just changing your code. You’re risking your face. And sometimes, you’re sacrificing a version of yourself to protect it.

It’s Not Just a Language Thing

Let’s be clear: monolingual speakers code-switch too. Every time you speak differently at work, in class, on a date, or in your group chat, you’re engaging in stylistic code-switching. Every time you shift your voice, your grammar, your jokes, that’s a switch. You’re adapting to context. You’re managing impressions. You’re curating how much of yourself to share.

It’s easy to think of code-switching as dramatic or exceptional. But in reality, it’s one of the most everyday things we do. We all do it. The only difference is that some of us have been made more aware of it, because of how we speak, where we’re from, or who’s listening.

Should We Stop Doing It?

Not necessarily. Code-switching is a skill. It’s a form of linguistic intelligence. It helps us move through different spaces, build relationships, and protect ourselves. It can be empowering. It can be creative. It can be funny.

But it’s also important to notice when it stops feeling like choice and starts feeling like performance. When it’s no longer about connection but about compliance. When the version of yourself you’re allowed to present is filtered through other people’s expectations.

That’s when we have to ask: who are we really speaking for?