I was asked to write an article for International Mother Language Day, which takes place every year on February 21. To be honest, it’s not something I think about every day. I don’t usually stop to theorize about something that feels so natural to me.

My own situation is simple: I was born and raised in France, and both of my parents spoke French at home. Naturally, my mother language is French. But as I write this article, I’m thinking especially about:

  • those who don’t really have a “mother language” in the strict sense, because they were raised by a father, grandparents, or other caregivers—in their case, it may be more accurate to talk about a first language;
  • those who feel they have to choose just one mother language, even though it’s possible to have two or more when several languages are spoken in a child’s environment from an early age.

Since this day is called International Mother Language Day, I’ll keep using that expression here for simplicity, but that doesn’t exclude these realities. A mother language is generally defined as the language of one’s country of origin or the first language learned in childhood.

A global day born from a struggle for a language

In 1952, in Dhaka—a major city in what was then East Pakistan, now Bangladesh—language became a political and identity issue. After the 1947 partition, Pakistan was made up of two distant regions: in the west, a mostly Urdu-speaking population; in the east, a large Bengali-speaking majority. Yet the central government decided to impose Urdu as the only official language.

For people in the eastern region, this decision felt like a denial of their culture. Students at Dhaka’s universities organized demonstrations demanding recognition for Bengali. On February 21, 1952, despite a ban on protests, they took to the streets. Police intervened, tensions escalated, and shots were fired. Several students were killed.

Their deaths deeply marked the country. February 21 became a symbol of the struggle for language and cultural identity. A few years later, Bengali was recognized as an official language. In 1999, UNESCO chose this date to establish International Mother Language Day.

Why this day matters

This is a broad question, but to me, this day matters for two essential reasons.

First, our mother language deeply shapes our identity and the way we see the world. It is the language in which we were comforted, scolded, encouraged—the language in which we first learned to name things and understand others.

Second, celebrating languages is also an act of resistance. Languages disappear every year, taking with them cultures, imaginations, knowledge, and ways of seeing the world. Protecting languages means protecting human diversity.

Our mother language shapes how we think

The language—or languages—we grow up with shape the way we speak, and therefore the way we think. Words, expressions, and grammatical structures all reflect particular ways of looking at reality. Languages are not just tools for describing the world; they are also different ways of understanding it.

Take the Portuguese word saudade, for example. It describes a deep emotional state of longing for a person, place, or time that is gone, while still holding the real or imagined possibility of its return. There is no exact equivalent in English. When a language has a word for a feeling, it gives that feeling a place in thought and culture. Without that word, the emotion can be harder to identify and express.

Our relationship to others is also shaped by language. In French, the choice between two forms of “you” (tu and vous) immediately introduces a notion of distance, respect, or hierarchy. 

  • Tu is used with friends, family members, children, or people of the same age or status when the relationship is informal. 
  • Vous is used to show respect, politeness, or social distance, when speaking to strangers, elders, teachers, supervisors, or in professional situations. It is also used when addressing more than one person. 

In English, where there is only one “you,” this distinction does not appear in the same way. Research in intercultural management points in a similar direction. Scholars such as Geert Hofstede have shown that national cultures differ in their relationship to hierarchy. France is often described as a country with relatively high power distance, where professional relationships tend to be more formal and vertical. The United States and the United Kingdom, on the other hand, are generally seen as cultures with lower power distance, where communication is more direct and informal. There is no scientific proof that these differences are caused by language structure, but it is interesting to wonder whether language plays a role.

Economist M. Keith Chen, in his 2013 study The Effect of Language on Economic Behavior, found a link between the structure of languages and certain future-oriented behaviors. He observed that speakers of languages that do not strongly mark the future—such as Mandarin Chinese, where tomorrow can be spoken about almost like today—tend to save more and adopt behaviors more oriented toward the future, as if the future felt closer and more concrete. For example, in Mandarin, one can say: 

我明天去市场 

literally: I / tomorrow / go / market 

The sentence contains no grammatical future marker. Only the word “tomorrow” tells us that the action takes place in the future. In English, we would naturally say: “Tomorrow, I will go to the market.” Here, the verb form itself marks the future, creating a clearer separation between present and future in the structure of the sentence.

Psycholinguist Lera Boroditsky’s research points in a similar direction. In a 2010 study titled Who dunnit? Language and memory for accidental events, participants watched scenes in which an object was accidentally broken. English speakers tended to describe the event by mentioning the person responsible: He broke the vase. Spanish speakers more often used a structure without an agent: Se rompió el jarrón (“The vase broke”). As a result, English speakers were better at remembering who was responsible, while Spanish speakers remembered the event itself more clearly. Language structure can guide attention toward either the person or the action, which may influence how responsibility is perceived.

There are many studies exploring this fascinating topic. Our mother language contributes to shaping our relationships, our worldview, and some of our behaviors. International Mother Language Day is an opportunity to recognize and celebrate that.

February 21: a day of resistance

According to UNESCO, nearly 40% of the world’s population does not have access to education in a language they speak or understand. At the same time, languages disappear every year, sometimes along with their last speakers. A language can disappear for many reasons:

  • its speakers adopt a more dominant language for economic or social reasons;
  • it is no longer passed on to children;
  • or it is deliberately marginalized or devalued.

Some languages are still seen as less legitimate than others. In Nice, in the south of France, where there is a large North African community, I remember a camp counselor (I was the camp director at the time) telling a group of teenagers who were speaking Arabic among themselves, “We’re in France, we have to speak French.” She probably would have reacted very differently if they had been speaking English. I tried to smooth things over by talking with her and by valuing the teens’ ability to speak several languages.

That moment reminded me of a Moroccan woman living in France whom I met a few months ago. She told me how humor in her language—Darija, Moroccan Arabic—felt more subtle, more vivid, sometimes much funnier than what she could express in French. I don’t have the linguistic skills to give examples, but that conversation stayed with me. How I envy her for mastering both French and Darija, and for having access to an even richer sense of humor than mine! (laughs)

When we try to make a language disappear, we are often trying to erase a culture and what binds a community together. Some see this as a way to build a unified nation. In France, this idea is still quite common: one country, one language, one culture. Administrative documents are rarely translated; the implicit message is often, “It’s up to you to adapt.” This reflects more of an assimilation model, where people are expected to adopt the dominant cultural codes.

When I arrived in California, I was struck by a different approach. Communities maintain their languages and cultures while fully claiming their place in U.S. society. Administrative documents are translated into multiple languages. You can stay connected to your roots and still feel fully part of the country you live in. This reflects more of an integration model, where multiple identities can coexist.

In recent years, several decisions in the United States have reflected a more assimilation-oriented approach to language. At the federal level, Executive Order 14224, “Designating English as the Official Language of the United States,” was signed on March 1, 2025. It made English the official language of the federal government and revoked earlier policies that required agencies to provide language assistance for non-English speakers. At the state level, Florida implemented a new policy in February 2026 requiring all driver’s license exams to be taken only in English, eliminating previously available multilingual options and translation services. 

Together, these decisions illustrate a political climate in which some policies prioritize a single national language and a more assimilation-focused vision of society. And when language policies move in this direction, they don’t just change administrative rules—they also shape how people see themselves and their place in the country. They also contribute to the weakening or disappearance of certain languages and cultures. This is one of the reasons why it becomes so important for communities, families, and organizations to keep these languages and cultures alive themselves, through schools, associations, and programs that celebrate linguistic diversity—like the work done by nonprofits such as EFBA.

When a society devalues certain languages, it also sends a message to the people who speak them: your culture matters less. Some internalize that message and distance themselves from their family’s language. Others develop resentment toward a country that does not recognize their heritage. And then there are those who, as an act of resistance, proudly claim their culture while remaining fully part of the society they live in.

A few months ago in Paris, a Celtic-Berber1 festival brought together musicians and dancers to celebrate Yennayer, the Amazigh New Year. On stage, Breton sounds blended with North African rhythms. When I saw the videos—you can watch one here on Instagram—I was amazed. These cultures fit together beautifully. It was a simple, joyful, deeply symbolic moment—a reminder that we have nothing to lose, and everything to gain, by letting multiple languages live side by side.

1Note: The term “Berber” comes from the Greek word barbaros, which originally meant “foreigner” or “someone who does not speak the language.” Over time, related words such as “barbarian” or “barbaric” in modern English came to carry negative meanings like “violent” or “uncivilized”. This evolution illustrates how, when we do not share someone else’s language, we may come to view their culture as inferior or less legitimate. For this reason, many people today prefer the term “Amazigh,” which means “free person” or “free people.”

A step toward peace

The message of this day is universal: every language carries a history, a culture, and a unique way of seeing the world. Defending languages means defending human diversity. And defending diversity is also a step toward peace—accepting that multiple languages, cultures, and ways of life can coexist.

If you’re reading this article, language probably matters in your life in one way or another. Maybe you live abroad. Maybe you speak your mother language every day, or only occasionally. Maybe you’ve enrolled your child in a program so they can learn or keep French. Maybe you speak several languages and value multiculturalism. Whatever your situation, this day is an opportunity to pause, reflect, and remember that we have the right to pass on our language and our culture—and that doing so is something beautiful.

Taking part in EFBA programs also means giving your child the chance to discover the French language and francophone cultures. Whether through our classes, our immersion summer camps, or our cultural programs—online or in person—there are many ways to keep French alive in everyday life and pass it on.

Happy International Mother Language Day to all!

Written by Julia, Camps and Cultural Programs Director at EFBA