Broken English, broken confidence

In Malaysia, English has long carried a weight that goes beyond mere grammar and vocabulary. It is a social marker, a professional passport, and in many ways, a measure of confidence. Yet, for many university students, this language that promises opportunity also becomes the very thing that decreases self-belief. The phrase “broken English, broken confidence” is more than just wordplay but it is the lived reality of many young Malaysians navigating higher education.

A familiar struggle

Step into any local university classroom and you will hear it. Students whispering answers under their breath, avoiding eye contact when lecturers pose a question, or switching to Bahasa Malaysia or Mandarin the moment discussions move outside the lecture hall. The issue is rarely a lack of knowledge. Ask these students privately, and they can explain theories in detail but when required to do so in English, hesitation sets in.

For many, English has always been framed as something to pass in exams rather than something to live and breathe. At home, conversations take place in Bahasa Malaysia, Tamil, Mandarin, or a local dialect. In school, opportunities to practice real, spontaneous English are scarce. By the time students reach university, they find themselves expected to debate, present, and write fluently in a language that has always felt somewhat foreign. The result is “broken English” where sentences punctuated with pauses, misused tenses, and direct translations. But more damaging than the broken grammar is the broken confidence that follows.

Silence in the classroom

Confidence and language are intertwined. The moment a student stumbles over words, a shadow of self-doubt creeps in. “What if they laugh at me? What if I sound stupid?” That fear silences many bright minds. Some choose to remain quiet during tutorials; others write excellent essays but never once raise their hands in class.

This silence comes at a cost. University life is not just about absorbing information but participating, questioning, and exchanging ideas. Students who remain voiceless miss out on opportunities to grow, and worse, may be perceived as disengaged or uninterested. A lack of confidence in English thus becomes a barrier to showcasing intelligence, not a reflection of intelligence itself.

The sting of stigma

The pressure is compounded by social perceptions. In Malaysia, fluency in English is often associated with being “educated” or “modern.” Conversely, broken English attracts quick judgment. A mispronounced word can earn a smirk; a grammatical slip can be mocked as “kampung.” This stigma cuts deep. For a student already struggling to gain confidence, ridicule reinforces the idea that their voice does not belong. Some retreat further into silence, while others overcompensate, sprinkling conversations with slang or rehearsed phrases to sound “better” In both cases, the result is the same: the true self remains hidden behind the fear of not being “good enough.”

Breaking the cycle

But must broken English always mean broken confidence? Absolutely not. What is needed is a shift in mindset from both students and society. For students, the first step is to embrace mistakes as part of learning. Communication is about being understood, not about being perfect. A sentence like “Yesterday I go library” may be grammatically flawed, but it still gets the message across. With practice, fluency will come, but only if students dare to keep speaking. For universities, the responsibility is to create safe spaces for practice. Conversation clubs, informal debates, and peer mentoring can help reduce the fear of judgment.

English should not only live in lecture halls and assignments, but it should thrive in campus cafeterias, student societies, and casual interactions. And for the wider Malaysian society, it is time to shed the habit of ridiculing broken English. Instead of mocking, we should encourage. Instead of associating fluency with intelligence, we should celebrate effort. After all, many Malaysians juggle multiple languages daily which is an impressive skill itself.

Reclaiming confidence

“Broken English, broken confidence” is not a permanent condition. It can also be a stepping stone: broken English today, stronger English tomorrow; broken confidence now, unshakable confidence later. What matters is not the polished accent or flawless grammar, but the courage to speak, to make mistakes, and to keep trying. University students in Malaysia stand at the threshold of global opportunities. Their ideas, talents, and innovations deserve to be heard and not silenced by the fear of imperfect English.

If we, as a society, can move beyond judgment and create spaces where young people feel safe to find their voices, perhaps we can turn the narrative around. Broken English does not have to mean broken confidence. In fact, it can be the very beginning of building the kind of confidence that no grammar rule can teach which is the confidence to speak up, to be heard, and to believe in one’s worth.