How Language Reinforces Social Hierarchies and the Boundaries of Power

Language doesn’t exist in a vacuum, nor is it ever really neutral. It’s an engrained and structured system of power that dictates, in every context, who is taken seriously, who is dismissed, and who is forced to adapt to the unwritten subconscious (and often preconscious) rules of the room. From corporate boardrooms to debates on politics, the way we speak directly influences and determines our access to the power potentially available to us in the moment, yet the arguments we hear about our standard ways of communication and the changes requested of us are about clarity, correctness, or professionalism rather than an explicit argument about control. 

Linguistic norms aren’t just about communications – they are tools of social gatekeeping. Looking at Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of linguistic capital,^[1] we see that a presumed mastery of the dominant speech form for a particular society grants a person legitimacy, while Deborah Cameron’s theory of verbal hygiene^[2] critiques how language is regulated to reinforce ideological and institutional authority. Together, these two works reveal how speech is policed in ways that sustain gender, class, and professional hierarchies.^[3]

This essay argues that language policing serves as a mechanism of power and control, shaping who is allowed to participate in “elite” spaces and on what terms. By examining linguistic gatekeeping through gendered speech norms, professional institutions, and class-based accent discrimination, I aim to show how verbal hygiene is rarely about improving communication – it’s about maintaining control, as evidenced by Cameron’s work. However, because language is inherently flexible, it also can serve as a site of resistance, where marginalized groups challenge linguistic expectations and redefine authority on their own terms.

In this essay, I will walk through four primary questions. The first looks at linguistic capital and prestige speech, specifically, to ask how language functions as a form of social currency and how dominant groups use linguistic norms to exclude others. Second, I’ll look at gendered language policing to understand how women’s speech patterns are disproportionately criticized and regulated, which, in turn, reinforces expectations and prescriptions of femininity and deference. My third question centers around institutional language gatekeeping to uncover how professional speech norms, corporate jargon, and accent biases reinforce class hierarchies and economic exclusion. And finally, I’ll talk about resistance through linguistic flexibility to think about how gender-inclusive language, digital dialects, and linguistic reclamation challenge traditional power structures. By the end, I ask the question: “If language is both a tool of oppression and a site of resistance, what are the limits of linguistic activism?”

Overview of Verbal Hygiene and Language and Symbolic Power

As previously mentioned in the introduction, this essay will compare Deborah Cameron’s Verbal Hygiene with Pierre Bourdieu’s Language and Symbolic Power in order to better understand the concept of linguistic capital when it comes to the policing of prestige. In order to do that, I want to take a moment to provide context on both of the books and lay a foundation for my future arguments in this essay.

Language and Symbolic Power is Bourdieu’s collection of essays, originally written in French, titled Ce que parler veut dire ("what speaking means") in 1983 and translated into English by Gino Raymond and Matthew Adamson in 1993. Bourdieu argues that language is not just a tool of communication but a mechanism of social reproduction that reinforces class hierarchies, institutional authority, and symbolic power. Through his concept of linguistic capital, which we’ll explore further in this essay, he explains that speech operates as a form of social currency, where mastery of the dominant language norms grants a person access to legitimacy and power. However, he points out that this capital is not available freely to all, as access is shaped by historical, institutional, and class-based constraints that determine who is heard, who is dismissed, and who is forced to adapt. 

Traditional linguists often study language as a neutral system, focusing primarily on its structure. Bourdieu, however, argues that language cannot be separated from its historical and social context. He emphasizes that institutions determine what counts as “proper” speech and who is recognized as an authoritative speaker.

Further, he introduces the concept of habitus, a system of engrained dispositions that dictate how individuals speak, behave, and perceive their own linguistic authority. This concept explains why certain speech patterns feel “natural” to elite speakers but foreign or inaccessible to those outside dominant institutions. The institutions that define legitimate speech, such as schools, media, and workplaces, act as gatekeepers, policing and enforcing linguistic norms that favor the elite. 

A key form of linguistic domination for Bourdieu is the idea of symbolic violence, where marginalized speakers internalize linguistic hierarchies and unconsciously participate in their own subjugation. For example, regional dialect speakers in post-revolutionary France were complicit in erasing their own native dialects in favor of Parisian French, which was imposed as the national standard. This was framed as a form of progress and national unity, but, in reality, it consolidated elite linguistic control and forced marginalized speakers into linguistic self-erasure.

Ultimately, Bourdieu challenges the idea that language is an equalizing force, showing instead that linguistic norms serve as mechanisms of exclusion. He urges a critical questioning of who has the power to define “correct” language, how linguistic legitimacy is enforced, and whose voices are systematically erased. 

The other primary text of this essay, Verbal Hygiene, is a book (and term) by sociologist Deborah Cameron, originally published in 1995 and updated with a new foreword in 2012. Cameron introduces the term verbal hygiene to describe the ways in which people attempt to regulate, clean up, and standardize language to align with social ideas of correctness, efficiency, civility, and truth. While often framed as neutral or beneficial, these efforts are deeply ideological and embedded in power structures, shaping who gets to speak, how they are heard, and whose voices are marginalized. 

Cameron critiques the assumption that language regulation is a purely functional process, arguing instead that it serves as a mechanism of control, determining who sounds authoritative and who is deemed unprofessional, unintelligent, or inappropriate. 

One of Cameron’s central critiques is gendered language policing: the ways in which women’s speech is disproportionately criticized in ways that reinforce expectations of deference, politeness, and social conformity. She examines how vocal fry, uptalk, and excessive politeness are framed as “problems” in women’s speech, while assertive or direct speech is penalized for being too aggressive.

She also discusses how verbal hygiene operates in institutions like schools, workplaces, and media, where standardized speech is enforced through prescriptive language norms. Drawing on Norman Fairclough’s concept of technologization of language, Cameron explores how the shift from manufacturing to service economies has turned workers into linguistic actors, requiring them to conform to prescriptive corporate communications standards. In this framework, professional speech training isn’t just about clarity – it’s a method of reinforcing hierarchy and corporate control, ensuring that employees conform to institutional expectations of communication. 

Despite these rigid structures, Cameron argues that language is always fluid, evolving, and resistant to total control. She highlights how new linguistic forms, from gender-inclusive language to emerging dialects, continually challenge prescriptive linguistic norms. However, rather than assuming that institutions completely co-opt or neutralize linguistic resistance, Cameron suggests that verbal hygiene is an ongoing negotiation, where both dominant and marginalized groups attempt to shape linguistic norms in ways that reflect their interests. 

Ultimately, Verbal Hygiene challenges the idea that language standardization is neutral, arguing instead that linguistic norms are political, ideological, and deeply tied to power. Cameron calls for a more critical understanding of how linguistic norms are enforced and who benefits from them, emphasizing that debates over language are, at their core, debates over social control.

In this essay, I’ll borrow from both authors. Looking at Bourdieu, I’ll use his framework for understanding language as a mechanism of social reproduction, where linguistic capital is distributed unequally across class, race, and institutional power structures. I’ll use Cameron’s work to expand on this by examining how linguistic norms are actively policed, particularly in relation to gender, workplace communication, and the co-optation of resistance. Together, these two powerful authors offer a critical perspective on how language is both a tool of domination and a site of contestation, reinforcing my central argument that linguistic gatekeeping is fundamentally about power, not communication.

Linguistic Capital and Verbal Hygiene: Who Controls Language? 

Building on Bourdieu’s concept of linguistic capital, he also points out that language as a symbolic resource determines access to power, that language operates as a form of symbolic capital, a resource that grants legitimacy, authority and access to power. John B. Thompson wrote of Bourdieu’s argument that “the more linguistic capital that speakers possess, the more they are able to exploit the systems of differences to their advantage and thereby secure a profit of distinction.” What he’s saying here is that just as economic capital dictates material privilege, linguistic capital dictates social legitimacy. Competitive advantage comes from mastering dominant linguistic norms. This reinforces the idea that linguistic rules are never neutral but instruments of social positioning.

Bourdieu wrote, “The institution of an identity… (nobility or social stigma) is the imposition of a name, i.e. of a social essence. To institute, to assign an essence, a competence, is to impose a right to be that is an obligation of being so… It is to signify to someone who he is and how he should conduct himself as a consequence.” In this, he highlights how linguistic norms aren’t just descriptive but prescriptive – they dictate identity and behavior (linguistics, as a field of study, Cameron argues, should be descriptive explicitly and only, but the arguments of verbal hygiene are unilaterally prescriptive). In the case of linguistic capital, acquiring the “right” way to speak is not simply a means of communication but an obligation imposed by social hierarchies. This supports the argument that prestige speech is a form of symbolic domination, where only those who conform are granted legitimacy. 

Further, language can also be seen as social gatekeeping, as those who control prestige speech control participation in elite spaces. One particular example of this is the persistence of white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant (WASP) aristocratic speech in law, finance, and academia, which ultimately shows up as a class barrier. When I talk about aristocratic speech in particular, it may seem like we are long gone from the days of having dukes and fiefdoms ruling the land. But the infrastructure of control has stayed the same, while the titles of the controlling elites have changed. In the South of the United States, this shift is most obvious, as the entrenchment of power is very distinctly white, very distinctly wealthy, and very distinctly elevated. There is a language there, too, one I learned from infancy, that provides access just by proxy of having the language skills. A former boss said recently to me, “You look like somebody’s granddaughter, and then you open your mouth.” 

Language is codified, particularly in the South, which is where I can speak to the experience of encountering these frameworks. Cotillion handbooks, like the one from the Junior Cotillion of Charlotte that explained how to have your dance card filled out, how to set a table properly for a four-course, five-course, or six-course meal, how to cross your ankles appropriately whilst sitting at a chair, how to speak to someone on the phone, how to respond to invitations, how to be punctual, attentive, and express gratitude, how to respond to an email appropriately, how to speak to your parents with manners. My mother used to joke that she’d sent my brother, myself, and my father to a manners camp. But, in fact, she did send me. Rule books were ever popular, and still pervade, like Emily Post’s 1922 book titled Etiquette: in society, in business, in politics, and at home. A quote from her book, under the section titled “The Hall-Mark of a Climber,” exemplifies the ability to “read” someone’s class, even while they have wealth: “When you see a woman in silks and sables and diamonds speak to a little errand girl or a footman or a scullery maid as though they were the dirt under her feet, you may be sure of one thing; she hasn't come a very long way from the ground herself.” Thus, her manner of speaking highlights her “true” class, in that she is a social climber, and doesn’t understand how to act as a dignified aristocrat. 

While there are rule books, like 1980’s The Official Preppy Handbook, which often focus on the visual and aesthetic presentation of class, many of the rules underlying language distinction are covertly stashed, eluding popular culture and staying in the background of the relationship between the dominant and the dominated. For this reason, among others, there has been little sustained analysis of how WASP aristocratic speech continues to reinforce class, race, and gender hierarchies. In the future, I hope to uncover this further in deeper writing, so as to unpack the ways in which this language is used and abused. I look at the WASP aristocratic language, in particular, for several reasons: (1) this language has not been analyzed in a deep sense, partially because it is difficult to access and gauche to research, (2) it is the background and language I grew up in, thus, it is something I innately have access to, and (3) by uncovering the infrastructure and uses of this language, I hope to provide a framework by which others can subvert and undermine its power structuring, enabling access to rooms and seats at tables which were previously inaccessible. 

My brief aside aside, the WASP aristocratic language looks at the enforced performance of prestige language, in that there is a verbal hygiene present in the ideology of “proper” speech. Cameron’s critique is that language policing is ideological, not neutral. And Thompson’s analysis of Bourdieu echoes this, when he writes, “Different accents, intonations, and ways of speaking [are] a manifestation… of the socially structured character of the habitus.” The key idea here is that there is an illusion of what constitutes “neutral” or “correct” speech, which masks deeper structures of power. 

There are also some key contradictions inherent in linguistic capital, namely, that if prestige speech is both a currency for mobility and a predetermined essence assigned by institutions, how do individuals subvert these constraints? Bourdieu’s concept of habitus suggests that linguistic hierarchy feels “natural” because it is deeply ingrained in social conditioning. Cameron expands on this, arguing that linguistic policing is not merely passively internalized—it is actively enforced and contested.

Yet, the enforcement of prestige language is not applied evenly across all speakers. While linguistic capital can function as a form of social mobility, its benefits are conditional—granted only to those who fit neatly within pre-existing power structures. Even when individuals master dominant speech norms, other intersecting social factors—such as race, gender, and class—continue to dictate who is perceived as authoritative and who is still scrutinized. For example, while WASP aristocratic speech serves as a class marker that reinforces exclusivity, the expectations surrounding “proper” speech are not just about class distinction but also about gendered performance. Women, in particular, are subjected to an additional layer of verbal hygiene policing, where even mastery of prestige speech does not guarantee legitimacy. Instead, their speech is held to different, often contradictory, standards—expected to be polite but not passive, confident but not aggressive, refined but not artificial.

This brings us to a critical intersection in linguistic power structures: if prestige speech is the currency of social legitimacy, why are some speakers granted credibility while others are penalized despite following the same linguistic rules? Nowhere is this contradiction more apparent than in the gendered policing of speech, where women’s voices are disproportionately scrutinized, regulated, and diminished, regardless of their adherence to dominant linguistic norms. From the policing of vocal fry and uptalk to the historical codification of feminine deference in speech etiquette, the next section will explore how language functions not only as a class barrier but also as a tool of gendered control.

Gendered Language Policing: The Regulation of Women’s Speech

Who has the power to define “correct” or “proper” language, and what social interests does that serve? 

The regulation of women’s voices and gendered speech norms highlights an environment in which language is policed not only for clarity but as a mechanism of social control. Cameron’s work on verbal hygiene underscores how speech patterns associated with women – uptalk, vocal fry, hedging, and excessive politeness, are not only scrutinized but also framed as deficiencies that must be corrected. She writes that verbal hygiene dictates not only what is considered to be “proper” but who is allowed to sound authoritative. These linguistic features are often perceived as signs of uncertainty, immaturity, or lack of authority, despite the fact that their use is highly strategic and context-dependent. Women who adopt more “assertive” speech, on the other hand, often face backlash for being too aggressive, or presenting as too masculine, highlighting a double bind in which neither adherence to nor deviation from prescriptive norms allows for full linguistic legitimacy. Women’s speech, as a category and form, is hyper-policed, reinforcing expectations that femininity must be polite, deferential, and non-threatening. As an example, a former boss once had a meeting with me to specifically instruct me to start all my emails with requests to colleagues as “Would you please..” as he had received complaints that my emails were too assertive and direct.

Cameron writes, “Like other superficially innocuous ‘customs,’ ‘conventions,’ and ‘traditions’ (dress codes included), rules of language use often contribute to a circle of exclusion and intimidation, as those who have mastered a particular practice use it in turn to intimidate others.” Her argument highlights how language functions like dress codes, as both operate as mechanisms of exclusion (No White After Labor Day, as an example, was an arbitrary rule established by the elite to distinguish themselves from those who gained enough capital to match their standards of dress). Women who fail to conform to both expected linguistic norms face social penalties, reinforcing verbal hygiene as a tool of gendered control.

Here, we see gender as linguistic performance: that speech patterns shape our perceptions of gender identity and authority. Judith Butler, in Gender Trouble, writes, “Gender is the repeated stylization of the body, a set of repeated acts within a highly rigid frame that congeal over time to produce the appearance of substance, of a natural sort of being.” Butler’s idea of gender as a repeated performative act provides a critical theoretical foundation for analyzing the policing of women’s speech. It demonstrates how expectations of femininity are continually reinforced through linguistic practices, making verbal hygiene central to the construction and enforcement of gender norms. Cameron expands on Butler’s quote when she writes, “The reason we perceive ourselves, and are perceived by others, as particular kinds of people is that we repeat the actions that define those kinds of people.” The policing of women’s vocal fry, uptalk, and tone, isn’t just about communication, it’s about reinforcing rigid gender roles that make certain linguistic styles appear “natural” for women, while others (direct, assertive, “masculine” speech) are perceived as deviations that require correction. Butler’s insight into gender as a repeated performance also intersects with Bourdieu’s concept of the bodily hexis – the idea that the body absorbs and reproduces social structures, including in the way that we speak. While Bourdieu speaks more of the bodily hexis as being subconscious or preconscious, Cameron challenges the idea that these are entirely unconscious processes, pointing to the explicit and active enforcement of linguistic norms. Bourdieu argues that women internalize speech patterns due to social conditioning, while Cameron emphasizes that women’s language is actively policed by external forces. If both perspectives hold true, then linguistic gendering is not just passively reproduced – it is also an ongoing struggle between societal enforcement and individual resistance.

A particularly revealing example of this enforcement can be found in Southern Belle speech norms, which codify linguistic deference as a marker of institutionalized femininity. In the context of debutante culture, cotillion training, and etiquette schools, young women are taught to soften their tone, modulate their pitch, and prioritize polite, deferential, and non-confrontational speech – all linguistic strategies that signal submission to patriarchal social structures. The expectation that women maintain a measured, genteel speaking style, particularly in elite Southern circles, underscores how language is not just about communication but about reinforcing social roles and class distinctions. These norms serve to limit the range of acceptable expression for women, discouraging directness, challenge, or dissent in favor of graceful acquiescence. Debutante and cotillion culture codify linguistic deference as a marker of idealized womanhood. Cameron critiques prescriptive language norms like these as forms of social control, as verbal hygiene extends beyond grammar; it dictates who is granted authority through speech. A direct example of this is my Junior Cotillion handbook’s guidelines on proper speech etiquette, specifically revolving around how to respond to a dance card request (this is when a man asks to put his name on the dance card tied to your wrist at a ball, saying to others to whom you have each specific dance. Both parties are expected to remember and honor their dance engagements as listed on the dance card). 

Bourdieu’s understanding of this type of cultural makeup speaks to the ways in which these woman, who themselves are not the authorities, can still find and hold power over other dominated groups. He explains that in societies where relations of domination are stable and objective, there must be a more personalized means to exercise power over others. One way is debt. Another can be gift-giving. Gift-giving itself can be seen as a symbolic violence, as a “‘gentle, invisible violence, unrecognized as such, chosen as much as underdone, that of trust, obligation, personal loyalty, hospitality, gifts, debts, piety… all the virtues honored by the ethic of honor.” He writes further, “By giving a gift – especially a generous one that cannot be met by a counter-gift of comparable quality – the giver creates a lasting obligation and binds the recipient in a relation of personal indebtedness. Giving is also a way of possessing: it is a way of binding another while shrouding the bond in a gesture of generosity.” In a culture where women are not allowed to be the biggest voice in the room by any stretch of the imagination, there are still ways in which they codify their levels of power over others. 

This will require a longer analysis in the future, but it is clear that speech norms in debutante culture do not merely reflect social expectations; they actively produce and sustain gendered power dynamics, ensuring that femininity remains bound to linguistic submission. 

As another example, we can look to the racialized and class-based policing of women’s speech, notably that Black women have their speech policed through gendered and racialized stereotypes. It will not be hard to find countless examples of racialized and gendered stereotyping and discrimination that focuses on Black women being too “aggressive” or too “loud.” Michelle Obama’s early speeches received stark linguistic scrutiny specifically for her tone and directness, after which she later adapted to a softer, more moderated speech style. Here Bourdieu speaks to linguistic subordination, and it is clear that this example provides a double linguistic subordination, in that Black women are forced to conform to both white linguistic norms and feminine politeness norms. Cameron’s frame of verbal hygiene is also helpful here, in that verbal hygiene posits in scenarios where white, upper-middle-class linguistic frameworks are emphasized and prioritized, failing to account for intersectional experiences. 

Racialized language hierarchies are a major factor in linguistic policing. Bourdieu’s linguistic capital is often racialized, certain dialects and speech patterns are not only marked as “unprofessional” or “low prestige” but also as inherently inferior or illegitimate due to racial biases. Historically, African American Vernacular English (AAVE) has been stigmatized while its slang and grammatical structures have been appropriated in pop culture. Institutionally, studies show that Black and Latinx individuals are often seen as less competent in professional settings due to their dialects, even when they’re fluent in Standard English. Here, we come back to Bourdieu’s idea of language as a marker of symbolic capital, that racialized dialects are systematically excluded from institutions that confer linguistic legitimacy. We can also pull in Cameron’s work to see that verbal hygiene practices in education and the workplace reinforce racial linguistic subordination by punishing “non-standard” speech.

Prestige Speech and Institutional Gatekeeping: Class, Accent, and Code-Switching

How do institutions weaponize language to exclude those who lack linguistic capital, and what are the limits of adaptation? 

Linguistic prestige is often used as a mechanism of institutional power. Accent bias is a major form of linguistic gatekeeping, where “neutral” or “standard” speech is simply a euphemism for privileged dialects. I remark on a common refrain I hear when I tell people where I grew up, for which I often receive a: “Really? But you don’t have an accent!” In the recesses of my mind, I can access this accent and emphasize certain intonations of my speech when speaking to someone from the South to seem more “authentic” and “homey,” but there is power in the fact that my accent is Midwestern “neutral,” due to historical media dominance, economic power, and linguistic discrimination which have posited it as the norm. Were I to present with a typical Southern accent, which is not the accent I grew up using, nor my default accent, the immediate perception of me would be different than having the General American English (GAE) or Standard American English (SAE) accent of the Midwest, which is stereotyped as neutral, hardworking, and relatable. This is a subtle example of where code-switching can come in – many professionals from the South, Northeast, and urban centers modify their speech in formal contexts to sound more neutral. 

Look no further than Oprah Winfrey’s code-switching during her broadcasting career. Originally from Mississippi, she modified her Southern speech patterns and emphasized a culture of politeness to align more closely with Midwestern speech norms. She posited these ideals on her show, as well. Quoting from Milena Ficker’s Masters of Communication thesis, she writes, “[there is a] widespread belief that it is necessary to speak Standard English in order to get a job. In 1987, Oprah Winfrey said in her show that when a job candidate speaks Standard English, then this is an indication that he/she might be able to do the job while speaking in an incorrect way (i.e., speaking AAE, often referred to as slang or not using the correct English grammar) indicates that he/she might not be able to do so.” In all, these examples highlight that the illusion of “neutral” or “correct” merely masks deeper structures of power, reinforcing hierarchies that privilege dominant linguistic norms while marginalizing others. 

According to Bourdieu, speaking in elite dialects grants access to power, while failure to conform leads to exclusion. For example, in France, regional dialect suppression was framed as progress but ultimately served to reinforce elite control over language. Thompson, writing about Bourdieu, says, “People speaking local dialects were induced, as Bourdieu puts it, ‘to collaborate in the destruction of their instruments of expression.” We can connect this to contemporary forms of linguistic erasure – where professional norms force marginalized speakers to abandon their natural speech patterns in favor of corporate or institutional expectations.

This suggests that linguistic suppression is not only a top-down process, but one in which marginalized speakers become complicit in erasing their own linguistic heritage, which ties into a few key areas. The first is institutional language policing. Schools and workplaces reinforce dominant linguistic norms under the guise of professionalism. The second is the psychology of linguistic insecurity: if speakers perceive their native dialect as a disadvantage, they may voluntarily suppress it in favor of “proper” speech. Third, while Bourdieu focuses on historical language suppression (e.g., France’s regional dialect erasure), Cameron extends this idea to the modern professional settings, where verbal hygiene dictates not only which accents are valued, but which professional communication styles (e.g., corporate jargon, “neutral” English) determine access to power. Fourth, if speakers willingly suppress their own dialects, is linguistic policing entirely an external imposition? Or is it also a necessary adaptation strategy in navigating class, gender, and racial mobility?

The “Right to Speak” is not an evenly distributed privilege; instead it is conferred, withheld, or contested by existing power hierarchies. Language serves as a gatekeeping mechanism, determining who is perceived as authoritative, competent, or even intelligent in professional and institutional settings. Institutional language policing operates through various mechanisms, subtly enforcing linguistic norms that prioritize elite, dominant speech forms while marginalizing or excluding non-standard varieties. 

One way this manifests is in corporate jargon versus plain language movements, where complexity is often wielded as a tool of exclusivity. Corporate, academic, and bureaucratic institutions thrive on specialized language, making communication intentionally opaque to distinguish insiders from outsiders. Highly technical jargon, legalese, and verbose industry-specific terminology reinforce the idea that access to power requires fluency in elite linguistic codes, which are largely inaccessible to those without the cultural or educational capital to decipher them. In contrast, plain language movements advocate for accessibility and inclusivity in communication, emphasizing clarity over prestige. However, institutions that enforce “correct” professional language under the guise of clarity often uphold hierarchical structures, as even simplified forms of communication still adhere to dominant linguistic expectations, subtly privileging speakers who naturally align with those norms.

Another example of institutional linguistic control is Fairclough’s concept of the technologization of language, which describes how workers are trained as linguistic actors within service-based economies. In this framework, language is not merely a means of communication but a corporate commodity, shaped and manipulated to fit professional expectations. This is especially evident in customer service, hospitality, and corporate training programs, where employees are often required to modify their natural speech patterns, neutralizing accents, removing regionally marked dialects, or adopting scripted linguistic conventions. Call centers and public-facing jobs frequently mandate standardized phonetics and tone training, reinforcing linguistic homogeneity as a requirement for professional legitimacy. This systematic control over workers’ speech reflects a broader phenomenon of linguistic gatekeeping, where institutions dictate not only the content of communication but also its delivery. We also see this when corporations have historically co-opted progressive movement language without much internal impact in order to assuage the perceived “demogogue,” in that the organization adopts the language to talk about their programs (e.g., “Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, Belonging, Justice” (DEIBJ), sustainability, etc.)

Code-switching – the practice of alternating between linguistic styles, dialects, or accents depending on social context – is a critical survival strategy in professional environments, particularly for individuals from marginalized linguistic backgrounds. For Black professionals, Latinx professionals, and speakers of regional or non-standard dialects, the ability to shift between informal, culturally specific speech and Standard English often determines their perceived competence, employability, and even upward mobility. This dynamic reflects a broader system of linguistic inequality, where certain ways of speaking are implicitly deemed unprofessional or “uneducated,” while others signal intelligence, reliability, and leadership potential.

Bourdieu’s linguistic capital framework helps explain why code-switching is not merely an individual choice but a strategic adaptation to hierarchical structures. In professional settings, linguistic capital is unequally distributed, meaning that speakers with prestige accents or dialects automatically accrue authority, while others must actively adjust their speech to gain acceptance. Code-switching, then, is an attempt to navigate and manipulate linguistic capital within elite spaces, aligning one’s speech with dominant norms to gain credibility.

However, Cameron complicates this notion, suggesting that code-switching is not purely about submission to dominant norms but also a form of resistance. While on the surface, switching between African American Vernacular English (AAVE) and Standard English in different settings might appear to be an act of compliance, it can also be a conscious assertion of identity and linguistic dexterity. Code-switching allows speakers to preserve cultural identity while demonstrating mastery of dominant linguistic forms, effectively challenging the idea that Standard English is the only legitimate mode of communication. In this way, code-switching is both a negotiation of power and a form of survival within systems that penalize linguistic diversity.

The stakes of code-switching become even clearer in high-stakes professional and legal settings, where linguistic profiling can have material consequences. Hiring discrimination based on speech is a well-documented phenomenon in which applicants are judged on their accents, dialects, and linguistic style, often before their qualifications are even considered. Studies have shown that individuals with regional or non-standard dialects are frequently perceived as less competent, while those with “neutral” or “standard” accents are assumed to be more educated, articulate, and trustworthy. Similarly, in housing discrimination cases, linguistic profiling is used to assess a potential tenant’s socioeconomic background, race, or nationality—with non-standard English speakers often facing subconscious or overt bias in leasing decisions. These examples demonstrate how linguistic policing is not just an abstract cultural phenomenon but a mechanism of material exclusion, influencing access to jobs, housing, and professional mobility. 

Perhaps one of the most widely recognized examples of strategic linguistic adaptation is Barack Obama’s ability to shift between different linguistic styles depending on his audience. Throughout his political career, Obama has demonstrated a highly sophisticated command of linguistic variation, switching between academic, legal, and vernacular speech patterns in ways that reflect both his lived experience and his need to navigate racialized expectations of speech.

When addressing academic or policy-driven audiences, Obama speaks in a highly formal, polished register, emphasizing his legal training and intellectual authority. His sentence structures are more complex, and his tone aligns with institutional expectations of expertise and professionalism. However, in community organizing settings or when engaging with Black audiences, he shifts toward a more relaxed, vernacular tone, occasionally incorporating elements of AAVE, cultural references, or rhythmically engaging speech patterns. This ability to fluidly adapt his linguistic style enhances his credibility across different social groups while demonstrating an acute awareness of how language shapes perception, authority, and relatability.

Obama’s speech variation illustrates both the necessity and complexity of code-switching for Black professionals in elite spaces. On one hand, his linguistic adaptability allowed him to build coalitions across racial, class, and political lines, making him one of the most effective communicators in modern political history. On the other hand, his ability to navigate multiple linguistic registers without being penalized for it is a privilege that is not afforded to all Black professionals. Many individuals who attempt similar linguistic shifts are instead criticized for lacking authenticity or professionalism, revealing the racialized double standard in language expectations.

Obama’s example also speaks to a broader paradox in linguistic gatekeeping:

• When marginalized speakers fail to conform to Standard English norms, they are dismissed as uneducated or unprofessional.
• When they do conform, they may still be perceived as inauthentic or “trying too hard” to assimilate.

This double bind reflects the broader inequities embedded in institutional linguistic norms. Ultimately, Obama’s ability to navigate these linguistic expectations highlights both the power of linguistic flexibility and the deeply ingrained biases that continue to shape professional speech norms in corporate, academic, and political spaces.

Through corporate speech norms, linguistic suppression in service economies, hiring discrimination, and racialized expectations of professionalism, institutions actively police language as a mechanism of exclusion. Code-switching, while a powerful adaptive strategy, exists within a system that forces speakers to choose between assimilation and exclusion—an unfair burden placed disproportionately on racialized, working-class, and non-standard English speakers.

Bourdieu and Cameron offer two different lenses for interpreting this phenomenon:

• Bourdieu’s theory of linguistic capital suggests that mastering elite speech codes allows for social mobility, but this capital is not equally accessible.
• Cameron’s critique of verbal hygiene emphasizes that linguistic policing is ideological, reinforcing power structures rather than simply reflecting them.

Taken together, these perspectives reveal that language in professional spaces is not just about clarity or effectiveness—it is about maintaining control over who belongs and who does not. Understanding this dynamic is crucial to challenging linguistic gatekeeping and advocating for greater inclusivity in professional and institutional discourse.

Yet, despite the rigid enforcement of prestige speech in professional and institutional settings, language itself is never truly fixed. Attempts to regulate linguistic legitimacy are always in tension with the inherent adaptability of language. While institutions establish norms that dictate who is allowed to speak and be heard, speakers continuously reshape, subvert, and redefine those norms in practice. Even within the most tightly controlled linguistic spaces—whether corporate boardrooms, academic institutions, or elite social circles—language remains unstable, subject to reinterpretation, reinvention, and resistance. What is deemed “proper” or “authoritative” speech today can easily become outdated or co-opted tomorrow. This instability, or the indeterminacy of language, challenges the very foundation of linguistic gatekeeping, as no prestige dialect remains unchallenged indefinitely.

The next section explores this fluidity of language as both a site of control and a site of disruption—examining how marginalized speakers innovate within and beyond institutional constraints, how digital communication accelerates linguistic evolution, and how resistance emerges even in the face of entrenched verbal hygiene norms. If language can never be fully contained, then to what extent can linguistic policing actually succeed? And how do speakers push back against dominant linguistic hierarchies, reclaiming speech as a form of agency and power?

The Indeterminacy of Language: Resistance and Disruption

In her work, Cameron argues that despite attempts to police language, it is always evolving – resistance emerges through linguistic creativity. Her thought extends further, talking about how the greatest strength of language is its flexibility, but within can also be found its greatest weakness of indeterminacy. This highlights a paradox that while language is often policed, it is ultimately fluid and adaptive. It is also what makes verbal hygiene an ongoing battle for those who seek to maintain control. 

Cameron writes, “We are constantly using our creative abilities to make sense of words we have never met before, as well as to make new interpretations of old words.” Despite attempts to control language, it is always evolving, and resistance emerges through linguistic innovation. Marginalized communities have historically reclaimed language (AAVE, Spanglish, gender-inclusive terms, Indigenous language revitalization) as a tool of identity and acts of cultural and political resistance against linguistic erasure. 

Of note, Bourdieu and Cameron diverge significantly on the question of whether linguistic power is stable or fragile. Bourdieu views linguistic hierarchies as deeply embedded and self-reproducing through institutions, while Cameron views language as always shifting, and verbal hygiene efforts can’t fully stop or control linguistic change. If Bourdieu is correct, linguistic prestige should be relatively fixed and stable, yet, we see constant linguistic innovation (e.g. internet slang, gender-inclusive language, new dialect prestige shifts). If Cameron is correct, institutional linguistic policing should always fail – yet, professional norms, accent bias, and gendered speech policing continue to exert significant influence. Perhaps, instead, linguistic control operates as a delayed or adaptive process - new linguistic forms emerge and challenge authority, but institutions respond by gradually absorbing, co-opting, or appropriate them (e.g., corporations adopting progressive language without changing internal power structures), closer to W. David Marx’s analysis of how status and culture impact one another to cycle further.

Additionally, the rise of digital spaces has fundamentally disrupted traditional linguistic authority, creating new dialects, slang, and modes of prestige speech that challenge institutionalized language norms. Unlike static linguistic structures historically dictated by academia, media, and elite institutions, internet-driven language shifts emerge organically, often from marginalized communities, and gain widespread acceptance at an accelerated pace. AAVE has played a particularly significant role in shaping digital discourse, especially on platforms like Twitter and TikTok, where its expressions, grammar, and cultural significance have been both amplified and contested. However, this linguistic visibility has also led to appropriation, where AAVE phrases like “on fleek,” “very demure, very mindful,” or “it’s giving” become detached from their cultural roots and absorbed into mainstream corporate and influencer discourse. This creates a paradox in which Black digital creators drive linguistic innovation, but those outside the community reap the social and financial capital from its widespread adoption. In this way, digital language both destabilizes traditional prestige speech and reaffirms existing power structures, as who gets credited for linguistic influence is still dictated by racial and social hierarchies. 

Bourdieu’s concept of linguistic capital offers a crucial framework for understanding how digital spaces redefine prestige speech. If historically, linguistic capital was conferred upon those who mastered elite dialects in professional and academic spaces, then today, fluency in digital discourse is emerging as an alternative currency of legitimacy. Online spaces cultivate new forms of prestige speech, where the ability to craft viral tweets, engage in meme culture, and navigate the nuances of internet humor signals cultural capital in ways that rival traditional linguistic authority. Memes and digital slang function as markers of in-group belonging, creating new dialects that are constantly shifting and remixing themselves, as evidenced by the creations on imgflip. Yet, even in the seemingly democratized realm of the internet, linguistic policing persists. Social media moderation algorithms and corporate platform policies function as digital verbal hygiene, regulating which forms of language are acceptable and which are penalized. In digital spaces, the indeterminacy of language is both celebrated and suppressed, as linguistic evolution thrives, but institutional gatekeepers find new ways to enforce verbal hygiene – whether through algorithmic suppression of certain speech patterns or workplace restrictions on informal digital discourse. 

Despite this, digital spaces remain one of the most significant contemporary disruptors of prestige speech, continuously challenging dominant linguistic norms while creating new modes of communication that defy standardization. The speed at which digital slang spreads and evolves prevents institutions from fully containing or controlling linguistic change, forcing even corporations to adopt online vernacular in an effort to stay relevant. However, this corporate adoption is itself a form of linguistic gatekeeping, as companies strategically employ internet slang in branding while reinforcing traditional linguistic expectations in hiring and employment settings. TikTok, Twitter, and Instagram have become battlegrounds for linguistic resistance and co-optation, where marginalized dialects are both elevated and stripped of context. The paradox of digital language is that while it destabilizes older forms of linguistic hierarchy, it simultaneously creates new prestige dialects, reinforcing the idea that language—no matter the medium—remains deeply intertwined with power.

This raises a fundamental question: who gets to define what constitutes “good” language? If digital spaces have shown us anything, it is that linguistic power is not just about tradition or prestige, but about who has the authority to set the rules. The final section will examine how institutions continue to regulate linguistic legitimacy, even as language itself refuses to be contained.

Conclusion: Who Gets to Define “Good” Language

Despite the rapid evolution of language and the ways digital spaces challenge traditional linguistic hierarchies, the question remains: who ultimately gets to define “good” language? If Bourdieu is correct in arguing that prestige speech functions only because speakers believe in its authority, then the potential for linguistic resistance lies in exposing verbal hygiene as a tool of control rather than an objective standard of correctness. When speakers recognize that linguistic norms aren’t neutral but ideological constructs that reinforce social, racial, and gendered hierarchies, they can begin to challenge and subvert those norms rather than comply with them. However, as Cameron argues, verbal hygiene isn’t easily dismantled – it adapts. Institutions absorb linguistic shifts, incorporating popular political language changes while maintaining the same structures of exclusion. Corporate diversity initiatives, for example, may encourage employees to use inclusive language and pronouns, yet these same workplaces still enforce rigid professional speech expectations that favor white, upper-middle class linguistic norms. 

Linguistic gatekeeping, then, is not static—it adapts alongside cultural and political shifts. This raises a critical question: If language can be both a tool of oppression and resistance, to what extent can linguistic activism challenge entrenched power structures? Can linguistic democratization truly disrupt power, or will institutions always find ways to regulate and co-opt linguistic change? While digital spaces and cultural shifts have made linguistic norms more fluid than ever before, language remains deeply embedded in systems of power, where certain speech forms continue to signal legitimacy, while others are marked as inferior. The challenge for linguistic activism, then, is not just in expanding what is considered acceptable speech, but in ensuring that these shifts translate into genuine structural change. As long as language remains embedded in systems of power, institutions will continue to regulate and adapt linguistic norms to maintain their authority. The question, then, is not only who gets to define ‘good’ language—but how we can ensure that linguistic inclusivity leads to real, material shifts in social hierarchies rather than symbolic gestures of progress.