written by Delphine Van Der Biest

Over the span of a few weeks, I was fortunate enough to attend several ‘conversation tables’ run by the non-profit organization Amal in Ghent dedicated to supporting migrants’ integration and civic participation through individual guidance, legal assistance, and —perhaps most importantly — language training (Vlaanderen.be, n.d.). At first, I didn’t really know what to expect; the conversation tables take place twice a week and serve as an opportunity for newcomers of Ghent to practice their Dutch language skills in small groups of their own personal language level with a Dutch speaking volunteer. At each table, I observed the people, their dynamics, their interactions, their ways of engaging with language and each other. When invited to, I participated in the conversations. I was greeted by a warm and welcoming atmosphere with each table distinct, yet unified by a shared sense of openness.

Language-wise, Amal offers a broad array of services and activities, ranging from formal Dutch classes to diverse opportunities to practice language in all its expressions and contexts. Participants learn to express themselves through writing workshops; engage in listening and reading activities at book presentations; combine reading and speaking in book clubs and library discussions; improve their spoken language skills through social events, running groups, buddy programs, city excursions, conversation tables, and so on. The connective spirit of language is present in all of these efforts. The organization’s name is equally playful and symbolic: ‘Amal’ means ‘everyone’ in the Ghent dialect, highlighting their vision of integration as a two-way street — a reciprocal process between civilians and civilians to be (Amal.be, n.d.).

Later on, I attended the keynote lecture ‘Accented Thinking in Migration Studies’ by Professor Shahram Khosravi at the COLLAB symposium in Leuven which put into perspective the feelings and impressions I had gathered from the conversation tables. According to Khosravi, accent is more than just a way of speaking — it’s a metaphor for how marginalized scholars experience and challenge dominant systems of knowledge: “two inherent aspects of accent are to emphasize and to break. Accent disrupts mainstream language. To accent means to break and to smash what is rendered as whole, homogenous, and harmonized. It signifies deviation from the norm and highlights conflicts, contradictions, and disagreements. Accent reveals gaps and cracks in the otherwise imagined intact theories, conversations, and thinking. Accent disturbs”(Khosravi, 2024, p. 2347). To “have an accent” in academia means thinking and knowing from a position shaped by migration, racialization, and exclusion. Rather than something to correct or erase, accent becomes a form of epistemic refusal: it disrupts what is considered neutral or proper and insists on alternative ways of knowing. In this way, accent is not a flaw, but a tool of resistance and transformation (Khosravi, 2024). Although Khosravi mainly introduces the concept of accent in relation to academic knowledge production, its relevance reaches far beyond the university. In everyday social, political, and cultural life, accent operates as a marker of difference that can both marginalize and resist dominant norms. Thinking with an accent becomes a broader strategy for challenging pressures to assimilate and for asserting alternative ways of being and knowing in the world.

A lot of political and popular discourse on migration seems to be about tolerance – a concept that sounds promising and carries positive connotations, but which is not necessarily the same as acceptance, let alone embracing. Tolerance is something that is granted from above: the dominant group tolerates the presence of the marginalized while keeping the right and the power to withdraw that tolerance. This creates a conditional belonging where one is only welcome as long as they conform — or rather perform? — to the dominant group’s expectations (Ahmed, 2012). As John Stuart Mill already made clear in his work ‘OnLiberty’ in 1859, true freedom is not simply the freedom someone is allowed to have by others; it must be a freedom rooted in rights and equality, not in the goodwill of those in power. Tolerance depends on other’s permission and is therefore always conditional and ultimately precarious; accent creates and demands a space beyond tolerance. Throughout my experiences at Amal’s conversation tables, I believe Amal doesn’t only make space for accent, but actively pursues it.

A thought that struck me during my sessions of observation and even more since the lecture on accent — which pushes me to ask these questions — is: why is language fluency often read as an indicator of integration? In Flanders for example, learning Dutch is the second of four main steps listed on the civic integration program alongside a social orientation course, developing a network and finding a job. Existing literature teaches us that the demand that migrants learn the “national” language is rarely just about communication; it often masks a deeper anxiety about racialized difference and national identity, where language becomes a gatekeeping tool for conditional belonging (Ahmed, 2012). This focus on language as national identity can be seen as a Western tendency as it is a pillar in Western assimilationist models of integration where the expectation is that migrants should fully adopt the dominant culture of the receiving society (language, norms, values) — and that their own cultural background should be set aside or kept private. Even in multiculturalist models of integration, there remains at least a hierarchy of languages (Choquet, 2017; Ricento, 2016). This fixation on immigrants and the national language has the capacity to turn language learning into a test of loyalty or gratitude, instead of a tool for communication. That being said, it would be equally naive to ignore the positive aspects of having people living in the same place speak the same language. A shared language can be a powerful tool for communication, participation, and connection, benefiting both migrants and the broader society. Language enables access, fosters social trust, and suppors inclusive civic life. The key challenge is ensuring that this does not become an exclusive gatekeeping device, but rather an enabling resource that coexists with respect for linguistic diversity (Lo Bianco, 2009). Once again, accented thinking proves itself crucial in navigating these dynamics.

Through my fieldwork with Amal, I’ve seen how the organization plays a valuable role in promoting a more accented vision of integration — one that makes space for diverse ways of speaking, knowing, and belonging, rather than enforcing uniformity. Each conversation table has one Dutch speaking volunteer and a small group, preferably six participants at maximum, to ensure everyone gets the chance to speak and be present. Participants are assigned a table based on their Dutch language level; other factors such as age, primary language, gender, etc. do not play a role in the composition of the groups. Volunteers are given a few basic guidelines designed to create a positive environment in which participants feel safe, supported, and encouraged to speak and practice. Other than that, they’re largely free to fill in the time of practice as they see fit. Some bring small games such as dice and flashcards with emotions or objects that are then used to form sentences. Others bring newspapers to discuss recent events, or worldmaps for people to show and talk about where they’re from. As much as the volunteers bring their own spin to the table, so do the participants. Some are very talkative, others are more quiet and prefer to learn more by listening. Some bring notebooks and write down new, difficult or inspiring words, others don’t. Some use their phone to look up certain translations that are crucial to the story they’re trying to tell, others choose to depend on overlap between all available languages at the table to reach an understanding as a collective. On the other hand, certain patterns emerged consistently at every table. Gestures and images were used as important tools to create and enrich meaning, making language embodied and dynamic. Humor proved essential, alongside patience and genuine interest in what others were saying. There was a shared desire to understand and be understood with  participants actively seeking shared frames of reference. Curiosity served as a bridge for connection while listening became a full-body act — not limited to the ears, but involving the eyes and physical presence. Facial expressions, movement, tone, and other layers of communication continuously shaped and deepened meaning.

Another interesting aspect I came to realise throughout my experience is that language seems to become a common denominator — a shared space that allowed people from very different backgrounds to meet and engage. But as I observed the sessions, I also noticed that language subtly shaped, and was shaped by, the process of integration itself. At the earliest stages of language learning, people spoke frequently about where they came from: their homes, their food, their culture, the ways in which these differed from their new environment. This constant act of comparison — between here and there — seemed to offer a way to make sense of their experience and to anchor their voices in what they knew. Yet as language proficiency increased, this pattern gradually faded. The conversations became less about origin and more about the here and now, about shared experiences in the new context. Perhaps it is at this point that accent becomes more pronounced — not only as a trace of where one comes from, but as an embodied marker of how integration is lived. As people move deeper into the new language, the surface content of their speech may shift, but accent carries their histories and subject positions into every conversation. In this sense, accent is not only shaped by the process of integration; it also quietly shapes how integration is experienced and negotiated.

Finally, one of the most striking things I discovered was how deeply human and valuable it is simply to speak — even if just for the sake of speaking. Words became a kind of currency around the tables, but their value felt different than in the settings I am used to. A lot was being said with few words; each one seemed to matter more. The interactions felt fuller, more deliberate, and the act of listening became more active and embodied. I found myself relying not only on my ears, but on my eyes, my senses, and my imagination to truly grasp what was being communicated. I wasn’t just listening — I was hearing what people were saying. And what I heard was a need for expression: people lit up when they could talk about themselves, their lives, their opinions, their joys and frustrations. The opportunity to speak — to share a piece of oneself and be heard — proved to be more than an exercise in language learning. It was an act of recognition, an affirmation of presence and worth. Being able to communicate matters; being able to use language and have your voice heard matters even more. Language capacitates — it enables us to take part, to connect, to exist meaningfully in the space of others.

I want to express my sincere gratitude to Amal. I felt genuinely welcome — both by the organization and by its participants — which in itself speaks to the kind of safe and productive space they have cultivated. It is a space where people can come together, learn, and support one another in ways that truly matter. For me, this experience offered a much-needed opportunity to ground myself and to step away from the noise of harmful and often abstract discourses surrounding migration. Instead, I was able to turn to the reality of people being here, now — striving, learning, and fully deserving to feel at home in ways that honour their own needs and identities. On a personal level, I was also reminded of my deep love for research — and of how fundamentally social and embedded an act it is. There is immeasurable value in stepping away from books and theory to witness the realities from which they ought to emerge. After all, it is not reality that should conform to theory, but theory that must remain grounded in and responsive to lived experience. Throughout this experience, I was reminded of the importance of critical thinking — of not taking my own perspective or my own linguistic and cultural position as the natural or “right” one. It is a conscious choice to hear rather than simply listen, and to remain open to accented ways of speaking and knowing, even (and especially) when they differ from the familiar. Though I do not speak from a marginalized position, I recognise it is essential to cultivate an awareness of how dominant standards shape what is heard, valued, or ignored — and to continue working toward a more open, attentive, and grounded practice of research.

Bibliography:

Agentschap Integratie en Inburgering Gent. (z.d.). Amal. Geraadpleegd 8 juni 2025, van https://www.amal.gent/

Agentschap Integratie en Inburgering Vlaanderen. (z.d.). Brochure: ‘Welkom in Vlaanderen!’

Ahmed, S. (2012). On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life. Duke University Press.

Amal—Agentschap Integratie en Inburgering Gent. (z.d.). Vlaanderen.be. Geraadpleegd 8 juni 2025, van https://www.vlaanderen.be/organisaties/stad-gent/amal-agentschap-integratie-en-inburgering-gent

Choquet, S. (2017). Models of Integration in Europe. European Issues, 449.

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Lo Bianco, J. (2009). Social cohesion and language learning. In Languages for social cohesion: Language education in a multilingual and multicultural Europe. Council of Europe Publ.

Mill, J. S. (1982). On Liberty. Penguin.

Ricento, T. (2016). Language Policy and Political Economy. Oxford University Press.