For years, my writing was “too informal” for academia. Then it was “too bulky” for the internet. Later, doing inclusion work with corporate clients — I watched language get used as a measuring stick for who gets to hold power in a room, and who has to keep proving they belong there.

I didn’t have a name for what that cost me physically until much later: and it’s something that those with hard-to-place names and faces can recognize immediately…

The jaw that tightens before a meeting where you know you’ll have to sound a certain way. The shoulders that creep up toward your ears mid-sentence, deciding in real time which “version” of you is acceptable here. The held breath right before you switch registers, switch tone, or switch which parts of you get airtime. The way all of this amplifies when doing it in your second, third or eighth language — in a room with different cultural norms than your passport country.

I’ve been thinking about this again recently, after watching a wave of writers here on Substack get told their fluency read as suspicious — too smooth, too effortless, somehow inauthentic. I wrote about that moment separately, and you can read it here if you want the fuller thread.

The pattern underneath it isn’t new because I know it well: cultural code-switching.

Cultural code-switching vs. code-switching

Code-switching isn't a term that belongs to me. It comes from the Black American experience and became a formal concept in linguistic research starting in the 1970s, linked to W.E.B. DuBois's concept of double consciousness: the need to shift between Standard English and African American English to navigate a world that perceives these two language forms very differently.1

What I present here is my effort to build on that foundation on how it shows up across cultures and countries; not to replace it.

The kind of “switching between selves” I’m discussing today is what long-term expats, immigrants, and third culture kids experience across borders and languages every day.

Cultural code-switching is a parallel experience. It’s one thing to survive systemic racism as the original term describes. It’s quite another to talk about belonging, safety, and legibility in a place that wasn’t designed with you in mind — especially if it operates in a different cultural register than where you or your parents grew up.

A quick reminder before we proceed: different bodies carry different layers of alertness into their lives abroad. Someone switching across culture and language brings one baseline of alertness. Someone switching based on how their body is perceived by others brings another level. Neither experience is a hierarchy or a claim as to who’s struggling more. They’re just different things the nervous system prepares for.

That said, chronic stress genuinely recalibrates the body's operating baseline over time. This has appeared in the research interviews I’ve been conducting with people who’ve lived abroad five years or more. Clinically, this is referred to as allostatic load; and it describes the real physiological cost of a system that keeps adjusting to a changing environment rather instead of returning to a fixed baseline.2

Minimalist image showcasing a light switch casting shadows on a vibrant orange wall. — Photo by Nadejda Bostanova

Where cultural code-switching shows up

For those whose baseline doesn’t already include the kind of alertness I mentioned above, the research supports the feelings you may struggle to articulate while living abroad:

One long-term expat I spoke to described feeling like a different person depending on the language — “a fraction of” who they were when speaking a language other than the one they grew up in.
Another talked about feeling “a few beats out of step” in conversations with locals, composing a response while the conversation has already moved ahead.
A member of my Substack community put it differently: not a fraction of yourself in each language, but the “thinking” and “feeling” parts finally learning to work together, in more than one language at once.

None of this is imagined.

Researchers studying multicultural individuals have found that switching between languages and switching between cultural frames each place separate demands on cognitive function. This means the mental load isn't just about language, it's also about cognition, doubling the challenge.3 A related study on Third Culture Kids found that this kind of frame-switching correlates with distinct patterns in how bicultural people monitor and adjust themselves across various contexts — patterns that don’t appear as prominently in those who grew up in a single culture, language, and framework.4

The tight jaw, the tense shoulders, the breath held before switching — that’s not performance anxiety or overthinking. It’s your brain managing several operating systems simultaneously, alongside the cognitive load of navigating a different language.

Cultural code-switching can show up in interactions that require you to toggle between accommodation and adaptability. Between being heard and being understood. Adjusting your tone, your posture, your body language to a room's unwritten rules. Knowing when interruption is unthinkable, and when it's the only way your voice gets counted at all.

In practice this can look like:

Composing a response in your head while a WhatsApp thread has already moved three messages past where you intended to reply, then deciding it’s not worth sending anymore;
Pausing before answering a simple question—like what you want for dinner—while part of you scans for what answer the room expects before realizing what you truly think;
Noticing your posture change mid-sentence: your jaw tense, shoulders creeping toward your ears without consciously deciding to brace for anything;
Searching for a word in your second or third language during a professional conversation and losing it completely, with everyone waiting for you to find the right word;
Realizing later that you agreed to something in a meeting not because you intended to, but because disagreeing seemed more costly in that specific room.

Your brain is running through multiple operating systems at the same time — and sometimes struggling to keep up.

Adaptability is a skill that many of us living abroad, walking the edges of multiple worlds, should appreciate and pride ourselves on.

That adaptability also comes with a cost that we can acknowledge.

Cultural code-switching: skill or survival mechanism?

The truth? It’s both.

The adaptability is real, as is the long process it took to develop it. You learned to read a room in a language that isn’t your first, to adjust your tone mid-sentence, and to know how much of yourself is safe to share in each space. That’s significant. Most people never have to cultivate it.

But skill and survival mechanism aren’t opposites. Sometimes they represent the same behavior, depending on the day you observe it.

Some days the switching feels almost invisible — a fluency you’ve earned, something more akin to ease than exhaustion. Other days it feels like you spent the whole translating yourself into a version someone else could receive, and you’re not sure when you agreed to that exchange.

Both realities co-exist. I haven’t encountered anyone living abroad long-term who doesn’t find this to be true at some point.

What I do know is that naming this experience changes the dynamic. It doesn't alter the cultural code-switching itself — that's a fact of your life now. But acknowledging it shifts the hidden belief that something is “wrong” with you for finding it tiring. The truth is your nervous system is operating as it was designed to, just with more intensity while living abroad.

Sometimes it helps to have that experience witnessed; you don’t have to make sense of it alone:

I hold a small number of Expat Orientation Conversations each month — 60‑minute, one‑to‑one, non‑clinical sessions for sense‑making and orientation, not therapy or coaching.

Together we look at how long‑term life abroad may be shaping your inner experience, find language for what has been hard to name, and gently sort what’s contextual from what’s personal before you decide what, if anything, you want to do next.

Book an Expat Orientation Session

Let’s keep walking the edges together.

Onward,
Kay✨

Who’s behind Edgewalkers Collective?

I’m Kay — Filipina American TCK (Third Culture Kid), 17 years in Spain, and a counsellor‑in‑training (CPCAB, UK). I spent over a decade working in inclusion and cross‑cultural strategy, helping organizations bridge cultures. I was good at it. I was also quietly burning out from being the bridge. Now I’m training to offer something different: recognition‑based support for expats and global citizens who are done being told they should feel lucky to be here.

If you’d like a sense of what working together could look like, you can read more on the Work With Me page.
If you want to access to the guided audios and quarterly pattern reports from my long-term life abroad research I send to paid subscribers, you‘re welcome to upgrade your subscription at any time.

Thanks for reading Edgewalkers Collective. If this resonated with you, restack this essay for someone who might need the language.

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1

Morrison, Carlos D. “code-switching”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 15 Jun. 2026, https://www.britannica.com/topic/code-switching.

2

Pfaltz, Monique C, and Ulrich Schnyder. “Allostatic Load and Allostatic Overload: Preventive and Clinical Implications.” Psychotherapy and psychosomatics vol. 92,5 (2023): 279-282. DOI:10.1159/000534340.

3

Treffers-Daller, Jeanine et al. “Explaining Individual Differences in Executive Functions Performance in Multilinguals: The Impact of Code-Switching and Alternating Between Multicultural Identity Styles.” Frontiers in psychology vol. 11 561088. 23 Oct. 2020, DOI:10.3389/fpsyg.2020.561088

4

Gorman, Ingmar, "Cultural Hybridity: Self-Monitoring and Cultural Frame Switching in Third Culture Kids" (2009). Theses & ETDs. 4110.

The Hidden Costs of Cultural Code-Switching