Survey reveals persistent 'accent bias' in UK workplaces despite progress

Mia Tanswell arrived at university in Loughborough carrying something she'd never questioned before: her Manchester accent. Within days, she felt its weight. Sitting in seminars alongside students from across the country, she found herself measuring her words, aware that her northern vowels might sound less credible than the voices around her. She wasn't imagining it. A new survey commissioned by Common Ground and seen by the BBC reveals that accent bias remains a stubborn fact of British working life, shaping how people speak, where they apply for jobs, and whether they advance.

The polling, conducted by More in Common across more than 3,300 adults in England, Scotland, and Wales, found that one in ten British workers feel anxious or self-conscious about their accent when stakes are high—speaking up in a meeting, presenting to leadership, networking with strangers. The anxiety is not evenly distributed. Workers from Newcastle report the highest rates of discomfort at 19%, matched by those with Cockney accents from east London. Welsh speakers follow at 18%. These aren't marginal concerns. They're the sound of people editing themselves in real time, calculating whether their voice will work against them.

The consequences extend beyond discomfort. Around 5% of respondents believe their accent has cost them a concrete career benefit—a promotion, a pay rise, a senior role. Among people from Birmingham, that figure jumps to 13%. West Country speakers report the highest rates of having their accent openly mocked or criticized by colleagues, at 15%. For some, the response has been to change. Lara Newman, founder of Common Ground and a veteran of construction and property development, deliberately softened her own west country accent to climb the professional ladder. She describes it as realistic rather than regrettable. "I felt like that was going to be an issue for me," she says. The survey bears her out: 13% of British workers admit to altering how they speak to sound more professional, with Scots and Cockneys most likely to do so.

Yet the barrier extends beyond regional variation. Benjamin Aidomoan arrived in the UK from the Czech Republic four years ago at sixteen, speaking no English. He learned the language but carries an accent that, he says, changes how people treat him. "You can just see on many people's faces, that the expression and the way they are looking at you and the way they are talking to you kind of changes," he observes. He now works in a restaurant and believes most employers do look beyond accents eventually, but the initial friction is real.

Martha Powell, 24, from Newport in Wales, loves her accent—wishes it were more Welsh, in fact. But she still finds herself softening it at networking events, gravitating toward others who speak like her, adapting her voice depending on the room. She wants to stand out but fears the cost of standing out as Welsh.

Some employers say the direction is shifting. Charlotte Davies, a career expert at LinkedIn, notes that hiring increasingly prioritizes skills over background or polish. "Your accent is part of your story, and the workplaces getting this right, treat that as a strength, not something to smooth out," she says. Sian Jackson, a partner at law firm Mills & Reeve, reports that her firm has recently changed its hiring approach to encourage local recruitment and accent diversity. "We don't judge, we scrutinise based on capability beyond somebody's accent, or appearance," she says. Yet even as she speaks, she acknowledges the gap: Mills & Reeve has made progress on accent bias, but the firm lags behind national progress on gender equality. The work is newer, the momentum slower. For workers like Mia, Martha, and Benjamin, the question remains whether these shifts will arrive in time to let them speak without calculation.