Jo Platt MP: confronting accent discrimination from Leigh to Westminster

Few things reveal as much about us as the way we speak.

Long before we've explained our politics, our profession or our background, our accent tells people something about where we've come from.

It carries traces of our communities, our upbringing and our lived experience.

Growing up as a working-class woman from Salford, my accent has always been woven into my identity just as much as my values or my politics.

After spending more than 20 years living in Leigh, it has naturally taken on a Lancashire inflection too.

I still say beltin when something is brilliant, int' it? when I'm in agreement, and love-eh instead of lovely.

But that’s the beauty of dialects and accents. They function as linguistic imprints of the places, people and communities that have shaped us.

But there have also been moments when that same accent has made me feel out of place.

Like countless others from working-class backgrounds, I have found myself wondering whether success required a different voice.

Early in my career, I caught myself considering whether softening my accent would make me appear more authoritative, more professional - or perhaps more credible.

Far too many people feel pressure to modify the way they speak in interviews, boardrooms and workplaces.

They soften vowels, flatten regionalisms, or consciously adopt what they perceive to be a more "neutral" voice.

What is being altered is not merely pronunciation; it is identity. The consequences extend far beyond individual confidence.

When people begin to believe that their voice represents a professional disadvantage, questions of language become questions of opportunity.

Accent prejudice reinforces existing inequalities because it quietly communicates who appears to belong in positions of influence and who does not. In doing so, it becomes another barrier to social mobility.

When I first entered Parliament in 2017, Westminster felt worlds away from both Salford and Leigh.

I remember listening carefully in committee rooms and corridors, wondering whether there was anyone who sounded remotely like me.

The more I embraced my own voice rather than measuring it against an imagined Westminster standard, the more I discovered colleagues across both Houses who were equally proud of their regional identities.

Beneath the public image of Parliament lies an increasingly diverse collection of accents, backgrounds and life experiences. That diversity is not something to smooth away; it strengthens our democracy.

Yet surprisingly little research has explored how accent shapes political life.

My experience has led to my strong interest in how regional accents influence people’s experience, representation and social mobility.

That is why I was delighted to host a Parliamentary drop-in session in support of new research led by Professors Rob Drummond of Manchester Metropolitan University and Amanda Cole of the University of Cambridge, examining accent, authenticity and representation in British politics.

The conversations demonstrated that accent is never simply about pronunciation. It often serves as a proxy for class, geography and belonging, shaping perceptions of intelligence, competence and leadership.

Our accents are not imperfections to be polished away. They are evidence of the communities that shaped us, the journeys that brought us here and the diversity that enriches our democracy.

In politics - as in every profession - we should be judged by the strength of our ideas, not the sound of our voices.