Linguicism in Caregiving: Insights From Japanese Care Workers in Aotearoa New Zealand

Abstract

Language communication in caregiving between care recipients and care workers is essential for the well-being and overall care experiences of both parties. However, challenges arise in language communication when care workers and/or recipients are linguistic minorities. With the increasing reliance on migrant workforces in the care industry globally, language communication challenges require careful attention. Research indicates that migrant care workers, many of whom are linguistic minorities, often report lower job satisfaction due to high job demands, limited social support, stress related to acculturation, and discrimination both within work and outside of their care roles. However, current studies on aging, health, and migration often overlook the exploration of language communication experiences in caregiving from the perspective of care workers. Unlike conventional research that frames language communication challenges merely as “language barriers,” our study critically examines the experiences of Japanese care workers’ experiences, through the lens of linguicism, language ideologies, and Bourdieu’s symbolic violence theory. Drawing insights from in-depth interviews (n = 10), our analysis reveals various forms of linguicism faced by the study participants. Some participants experienced discrimination due to their accents and overall language proficiency, both from care recipients and co-workers. Interpersonal linguicism is evident, but many participants also internalized language oppression.

Introduction

Effective communication in caregiving is essential for promoting the well-being and overall care experiences of both care recipients and care workers—including healthcare assistant, support worker, home-visit carer, and nursing home assistant (see, e.g., Machiels et al., 2017; Nursalam et al., 2020). In long-term care setting, language plays a significant role in enabling trust, respect, and relationship building (Munkejord et al., 2021; Ness et al., 2014). However, challenges can emerge in language communication when care workers are linguistic minorities with limited proficiency in the dominant language spoken by care recipients such as English in Aotearoa New Zealand (hereafter New Zealand) (see, e.g., Adebayo et al., 2023; Doyle & Timonen, 2009; Jansson, 2014; Overgaard et al., 2022; Uekusa, 2025). As the care industry in many developed countries increasingly relies on the migrant workforce, these language communication challenges require greater attention. Misunderstandings, lack of acceptance, and difficulties in fostering trust and respectful relationships with care recipients often stem from such challenges (Spencer et al., 2010). Consequently, migrant care workers (MCWs), particularly linguistic minorities, are often encouraged to undergo language and cultural sensitivity trainings to adapt to the dominant language and cultural norms of the host country (see Nursalam et al., 2020). However, these adaptations cannot be achieved immediately, leaving these care workers to bear the additional burden of managing communication challenges in their roles.

While research consistently highlights the multiple difficulties faced by linguistic minority care workers in care settings, including high job demands, limited social support, and acculturation-related stress, all of which contribute to lower job satisfaction (Adebayo et al., 2023; Doucerain et al., 2015; Eriksson et al., 2023; Overgaard et al., 2022; Wu et al., 2024), less attention has been paid to the language ideologies that underpin these struggles in aging and care research. Rather than framing these challenges solely as “language barriers” or “inconvenience,” this study critically examines them through the lens of linguicism, language ideologies, and Bourdieu's (1991) theory of “symbolic violence” (see also Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992). It explores how dominant language (and cultural) norms marginalize linguistic minority care workers and create asymmetrical power relations in everyday care work. Drawing on qualitative data from a small group of Japanese care workers (n = 10) working in various care roles in New Zealand, this study explores their experiences of linguicism in caregiving. By amplifying the voices of Japanese care workers, this research aims to deepen understanding of the interplay between language communication and caregiving, offering insights relevant to New Zealand and similar contexts globally.

Challenges Faced by Migrant Care Workers in Care Settings

While we have no intention to use the terms “linguistic minority care workers” and “MCWs” interchangeably, many MCWs are indeed linguistic minorities. MCWs, particularly women and racial minorities, face a multitude of intersecting challenges in their destination countries including New Zealand, including racism, gender oppression, linguicism, workplace exploitation and bullying, low wages, and social marginalization. The theoretical frameworks of “global care chains” (Hochschild, 2001; Sabio et al., 2022) and “the international transfer of caretaking” (Parreñas, 2000) highlight how global inequalities drive the migration patterns of MCWs primarily from the Global South to wealthier nations. These frameworks provide a critical lens for understanding the precarious conditions MCWs endure, often in undervalued and underpaid roles. In many developed countries including New Zealand, while the population is aging, the local workforce alone cannot supply enough labor in the aged care and other healthcare sectors. MCWs, while understudied, provide essential labor and play a key role in sustaining the industry.

Globally, MCWs—particularly those from Asia—have long been subjected to racism and systemic oppression within both workplace environments and broader social contexts (Badkar et al., 2009; Song & McDonald, 2021). These forms of discrimination are often compounded by the perception of caregiving as “women’s work,” reinforcing their social invisibility and limiting professional advancement and support (see, e.g., Duffy, 2007). Emotional labor, including stress management and caregiving under cultural expectations, places additional burdens on MCWs, who often lack formal support and recognition (Folbre, 2012). Person-centered care models, which prioritize the well-being of both care recipients and caregivers, have been widely advocated to improve care outcomes (Yeung, 2019; Yeung et al., 2017; Yeung & Rodgers, 2017); however, for MCWs, these care role–related challenges often intersect with broader structural inequalities and stressors such as racism, gender oppression, economic hardships, and migration-related precarity, which extends beyond their care work (Chan et al., 2021; Pearlin et al., 1990; Roth et al., 2015). The overlapping stressors collectively undermine their well-being, leaving them at risk of burnout, isolation, and chronic stress (Badkar et al., 2009; Colins & Wilson, 2008; Goodhead & McDonald, 2007; Song & McDonald, 2021). Despite their essential role, MCWs are not only undervalued contributors to healthcare systems but also disproportionately affected by the systemic inequalities that permeate the care sectors.

Linguicism in Caregiving

Discrimination is a pervasive issue faced by care workers from minority and migrant backgrounds in caregiving settings. However, in care and aging research, one specific yet underexplored form of discrimination is “linguicism”—discrimination based on language or linguistic characteristics (see Phillipson, 1988; Skutnabb-Kangas, 2015 for details). Although rarely explicitly labeled as linguicism, studies show how accents and language use expose linguistic minority workers in care industries to discrimination and exclusion; for example, research from Ireland (Doyle & Timonen, 2009) and Australia (Adebayo et al., 2023) highlights how MCWs are often misunderstood and discriminated against by care recipients, their families, and co-workers due to their accents and racialized identities. Such accent-based discrimination is frequently intertwined with racism, creating compounded challenges for MCWs. Similarly, studies (e.g., Overgaard et al., 2022) indicate that MCWs frequently struggle to understand regional accents, colloquial language, and slang used by the dominant cultural and language groups in host societies. This often leads to strained relationships with co-workers, care recipients, and their families, further isolating linguistic minority care workers and impeding their ability to build trust and perform effectively in their roles.

Although “language barriers” are widely acknowledged as negatively impacting care recipients’ experiences (Asis & Grandang, 2020; Spencer et al., 2010), far less attention has been given to understanding these barriers from the perspective of linguistic minority care workers themselves. The care literature often adopts a care recipient–centered approach, emphasizing how language and cultural differences influence care quality. Consequently, the responsibility of overcoming language communication challenges is often placed solely on linguistic minority care workers, neglecting the systemic, institutional, and interpersonal dynamics that exacerbate these difficulties. For example, Spencer et al. (2010) documented the struggles of MCWs adjusting to new accents, dialects, and the dominant language(s) of their host country. In some workplaces, employers enforce “English only” policies, explicitly barring linguistic minority employees from speaking “their” languages at work (see, e.g., Ainsworth, 2010 for this example in non-care settings; see Pennington & Xia, 2024 for a media report on some hospitals in New Zealand barring migrant nurses and staff from speaking “their” languages in the workplace). These policies reflect linguistic hegemony in host countries, reinforcing the marginalization of minority languages and its speakers. In Spencer et al.’s study (2010), one Zimbabwean MCW in the United Kingdom shared their feeling of linguistic powerlessness: “I find it hard myself, it is sometimes hard to explain myself to older people you know, because of the accent, and I can’t understand some of them, they have got a typical strong accent” (p. 43). Similarly, a Polish MCW in their study recalled the emotional toll of language struggles:

First few weeks, what I remember, I just felt like crying. I felt like completely a fool because I couldn’t speak in this language and I couldn’t communicate with people. So it was very, very hard for me. And, you know, not to be able to express myself and say what I want to say. (p. 43)

While Spencer et al.’s study (2010) offers a rare glimpse into the linguistic challenges faced by MCWs in care settings, it does not critically interrogate these experiences through the critical lens of linguicism and language ideologies.

Linguicism, Language Ideologies, and Bourdieu’s Symbolic Violence

The concept of “linguicism,” introduced by Skutnabb-Kangas (2015), provides a critical framework for understanding the systemic and ideological nature of linguicism in caregiving. Linguicism refers to the structural, interpersonal, and internalizing discrimination faced by linguistic minorities, emphasizing how language differences are not merely technical obstacles but mechanisms of institutionalized and ideological oppression (Nguyen & Hajek, 2022; Phillipson, 1988; Skutnabb-Kangas, 2015; Uekusa, 2009). This perspective challenges dominant narratives that portray language barriers as minor issues for linguistic minorities to “overcome” through individual adaptation such as acquiring local accents or learning the dominant/de facto language. In predominantly English-speaking societies like New Zealand, the normalization of English as the hegemonic language contributes to a significant power imbalance between linguistic minority care workers and English-speaking care recipients, their families, co-workers, and managers. For linguistic minority care workers, these dynamics are particularly pronounced. From the perspectives of critical language studies and sociology, language challenges are not just operational inconveniences but represent deeper forms of ideological exclusion that marginalize and oppress linguistic minority care workers within caregiving settings (see also Cushing, 2023). Therefore, this study draws on critical perspectives of language studies and sociology, particularly Bourdieu’s symbolic violence, to examine how linguicism operates and becomes normalized within caregiving settings in New Zealand.

Symbolic violence—the hegemonic and ideological soft power which is “exercised upon a social agent with his or her complicity” (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 167; also Bourdieu, 1991)—operates in such a way that linguistic minorities often internalize their subordination as natural and acceptable rather than forced (Uekusa, 2009). As Bourdieu (2001) notes, it is a useful theoretical tool to understand how “the most intolerable conditions of existence can so often be perceived as acceptable and even natural” (p. 1; also Bourdieu, 2000). For linguistic minority migrants, the internalization of English language ideologies often begins even in home countries and continues through their everyday socialization in destination countries, shaping their “habitus” which generates the perceptions and practices, and their normalized practices reproduce the external structures as “field” (see Bourdieu, 1984, 1990 for details of these concepts). Unlike overt forms of discrimination, linguicism was so deeply embedded in language ideologies and symbolic violence that linguistic minorities do not really recognize it as a systemic issue. Instead, they typically blame their own limited language proficiency, reinforcing the very structures that marginalized them (Uekusa, 2009).

By employing Bourdieu’s concept of symbolic violence, this research centers the experiences of Japanese care workers to interrogate how systemic language ideologies and workplace norms perpetuate power imbalances. It underscores the urgency of addressing the institutional, interpersonal, and intrapersonal dimensions of linguicism to create more equitable caregiving environments. Shifting the focus away from framing language issues as linguistic minority care workers’ individual responsibilities to recognizing their structural roots is essential for fostering inclusivity and sustainability within the care sector.

Study Context: Migrant Care Workers in New Zealand

New Zealand has historically relied—and continues to rely—on migrant labor across various industries. Initially, internal migration of Indigenous Māori to urban centers during the mid-20th century provided the workforce to meet labor demands, followed by an influx of migrants from the Pacific, particularly, in manufacturing and agricultural industries (Collette & O’Malley, 1974; Mila, 2017). In more recent decades, migrant workers from the United Kingdom, India, China, and the Philippines have supplied labor for industries where, due to various reasons, domestic workers were unavailable (Garces-Ozanne et al., 2022). As a result, New Zealand has become ethnically, culturally, and linguistically diverse, and the most recent census results show that migrants constitute a significant proportion of the populations, especially in urban centers (Stats NZ, 2024).

This diversity is reflected in New Zealand’s care sector, where workers have become predominantly MCWs, many of whom are from Asian countries (Badkar et al., 2009; RNZ, 2018; Spoonley, 2022). Certain nationalities and ethnic groups are overrepresented in specific industries, with caregiving and aged care being particularly reliant on Asian MCWs (Badkar et al., 2009). Despite the increasing demand for MCWs and government efforts to recruit them, the care infrastructure in New Zealand faces ongoing sustainability challenges. These include low wages, high turnover rates, workplace exploitation and bullying, and discrimination against minority and migrant workers (Czuda et al., 2019; Health Workforce Advisory Committee, 2006). These issues were only exacerbated during the COVID-19 global pandemic. Like many developed countries, New Zealand faces a rapidly aging population and a care crisis fueled by chronic labor shortages in the healthcare and aged care sectors (Hussein, 2022; Robinson, 2023). These shortages affect the delivery of essential support for individuals with illness, injury, disability, and old age, posing a potential threat to the sector’s viability in New Zealand (e.g., Almeida, 2022). Media reports have underscored the severity of the care crisis, with some nursing homes and retirement villages reducing beds and facing closure due to pandemic-exacerbated staffing shortages (Cropp, 2022; Jones, 2022; Milne, 2022).

While the number of Asian MCWs—many migrating from the Global South to work as nurses, support workers, and professional care workers—has increased significantly (Badkar et al., 2009; RNZ, 2018; Spoonley, 2022), care crisis continues. Although the New Zealand government introduced measures such as the Care Worker’s Residence Pathway (Immigration New Zealand, 2022) to attract and retain MCWs, these initiatives have not fully addressed the issues. Many care workers have left the industry for better opportunities in other industries or left New Zealand for countries like Australia, which also faces healthcare labor shortages but offers comparatively better pay and working conditions (Bhamidipati, 2022; McClure, 2023). This ongoing “exodus” of skilled workers in New Zealand highlights the urgent need for stronger support structures for MCWs to build a more sustainable care infrastructure. Particularly, the experiences of Asian MCWs remain underexplored, with certain groups such as Japanese MCWs largely overlooked in existing research. To date, there is no research concerning the experiences of Japanese MCWs in care settings, with an exception of the study on Japanese care workers in Australia conducted by Oishi and Ono (2020). Furthermore, understanding their unique challenges and resilience, especially in terms of language communication, workplace dynamics, cultural expectations, and social integration, is crucial for addressing the care crisis and improving the sustainability of New Zealand’s care sector. This study aims to fill this knowledge gap by specifically shedding light on the experiences of linguicism in caregiving among Japanese care workers in New Zealand, which contributes to the aging and care literature in New Zealand and beyond.

Research Methods

This small-scale study focuses on the experiences of Japanese care workers working in New Zealand’s two large metropolitan cities. Adopting an interpretative approach, we conducted in-depth semi-structured interviews to explore participants’ subjective experiences of linguicism in caregiving and their situated knowledge. In-depth interviews were selected over focus groups or participant observation because this method allowed for deeper personal reflection on sensitive issues such as linguicism in caregiving, which participants may not want to openly discuss in focus groups or may not consciously recognize due to the effect of symbolic violence. The study sample includes 10 Japanese migrant women, aged between their 30s and 50s, who had lived in New Zealand for two to 30 years. Most held permanent resident visas, with caregiving experiences in institutional and home-visit settings. Due to the highly gendered nature of the workforce, we were unable to recruit Japanese men working in the care industry. Notably, many participants in this study were former nurses in Japan and single mothers who migrated from Japan with their children. Initial migrating pathways included a working holiday and student visas, with limited English proficiency. Migration decisions were often driven by concerns for their children’s well-being, and participants’ narratives revealed their motivations to escape social marginalization, particularly gender oppression, in Japan, underscoring complex migration dynamics within their home country.

The decision of focusing on Japanese care workers was informed by the need to address the overlooked issue of linguicism in aging and care research. The first author’s fluency in Japanese facilitated linguistically and culturally inclusive and sensitive recruitment and interviewing. Recruitment employed the authors personal and professional networks to identify a first set of four participants to engage this relatively hard-to-reach group in New Zealand, followed by snowball sampling to recruit further participants. Due to limited research funding and the commonly accepted sample size for data saturation in qualitative research in relatively homogeneous groups (typically 9–17 interviews) (Hennink & Kaiser, 2022), the number of samples (n = 10) was determined. All interviews were conducted in Japanese, providing a space for participants to share their stories, particularly about language communication challenges, which many found empowering, echoing the work of Bogdan and Bikken (2007) and Rothman (2007). Semi-structured interviews, typically lasting one to two hours, included demographic and caregiving-related questions, followed by open-ended prompts about participants’ language communication experiences in care settings. These interview questions were informed by our prior research and relevant literature and covered key topics such as caregiving experiences, workplace challenges, language communication, coping strategies, social and emotional impacts, and support needs. This approach aimed to capture participants’ nuanced perspectives and explore how they navigated the challenges and opportunities presented within their care roles. All interviews were conducted at public places such as local cafés for participants’ convenience and comfort. Interviews were audio-recorded, transcribed, and professionally translated into English for qualitative analysis. Data familiarization started during this transcribing process and continued through reading the transcripts multiple times. Following Braun and Clarke (2006) six-step process for thematic analysis, we open coded the transcripts, inductively identified recurring patterns and meanings across the qualitative data, and defined potential themes. Several themes emerged from this process. In this paper, we focus on one of these themes to address the particular research question: How do Japanese care workers experience linguicism in caregiving?

While the small sample size limits generalizability, this study provides valuable insights and lays the foundation for further research on the intersection of linguicism, migration, and care work. To ensure credibility, accountability, and trustworthiness, all authors have formal training in qualitative research and bring years of experiences in conducting in-depth interviews across cross-cultural and multilingual settings in various countries, and, importantly, we continuously engage in critical self-reflections to ensure our reflexivity and positionality throughout the research process (Uekusa, 2024). Ethical approval for this low-risk research was granted by the University of Canterbury Human Research Ethics Committee (approval no. 2022/105). To protect participants’ privacy, all identifiers have been removed, and pseudonyms, along with ID numbers, are used throughout the research process to manage and link the data.

Japanese Care Workers’ Experiences of Linguicism in Caregiving

Institutionalized Linguicism in Care Context

Interestingly, institutionalized linguicism appears less prevalent among participants, compared to other social spaces (or “field” in Bourdieu’s term) such as education or politics where language is a more overt, and sometimes deliberative, mechanism for exclusion and marginalization of linguistic minorities (Gumpers, 1982; Skutnabb-Kangas, 2015; Uekusa, 2009). Participants perceived that this reduced exposure to institutionalized linguicism could have been attributed to two primary factors: “labor market demands” and “New Zealand’s migration policy.” The chronic shortage of care workers, coupled with the welcoming stance toward working holidaymakers and students who are not expected to possess English proficiency at the time of visa application, often overrides stringent language proficiency requirements, at least for entry-level caregiving roles. As such, participants did not have to pay the “linguistic penalty” (see Roberts, 2013 for the concept and examples) when initially securing caregiving jobs, although challenges emerged in areas like career progression and navigating training requirements later on.

Takako, an experienced care worker in her 50s with 30 years of experience who originally came to New Zealand on working holiday visa, noted that the immediate need for workers may outweigh concerns about language proficiency:

I wanted to do something. But there was, of course, the language barrier and other issues, like when you work in an office work. So I thought I would apply for something I’d like to do, and as soon as I applied [for a care role], I got a job (laughs) because of the labor shortage.

As Takako and others perceived, the “labor shortage in caregiving” is a crucial factor mitigating overt institutionalized linguicism for them, who might have had difficulty securing job in other industries due to their limited English. Furthermore, Ayako, a care worker in her 30s, shared her perception of language communication being less important in care work:

The conversations [with residents] aren’t that complicated. They’re about daily caregiving routines and such, so it’s not difficult to understand. In the work I do, rather than words, we use facial expressions or touch more, so words aren’t all that important. Particularly with dementia, there isn’t much of language barriers.

This contrasts with other sectors in New Zealand where English is often a strict prerequisite (see, e.g., Plumridge et al., 2012), reinforcing the idea that caregiving offers a rare pathway for linguistic minorities to secure employment. Indeed, some participants, especially for those who were former nurses and came to New Zealand on working holiday or student visa, were very explicit about how caregiving roles were perceived as free of “linguistic penalty” and “accessible” for those with limited English skills. Tomomi, a care worker in her 30s who came to New Zealand on a working holiday visa, reflected on her reliance on caregiving as a career due to her limited English proficiency:

[Have you thought about changing your career?] Not really. [Care work] is physically hard, so it is tiring, but … in my case, I don’t have any other skills, so I don’t think I’d be able to do something else. I can’t speak English at all, so there is only caregiving, I suppose. All I can do is keep going with this, I guess.

Taking a more critical perspective, we highlight the emerging patterns that reflect their internalized perception (or “habitus” in Bourdieu’s term) of a perceived lack of English language proficiency—an evident effect of symbolic violence. This factor appeared to be the primary reason, besides their strong passion and professionalism, why many participants in this study chose and remained in the caregiving profession, which appears to be a clear example of institutionalized linguicism (Uekusa, 2009).

Nonetheless, while this accessibility provided Takako, Tomomi, and others with an entry point, it also pigeonholed these participants into roles with limited upward mobility, perpetuating structural inequalities. For instance, the journey of Mika, a home-visit carer in her 40s who is a single mother and former nurse who came to New Zealand on a student visa, demonstrates how institutional structures in this field indirectly perpetuated linguicism:

I applied for that [nursing] course [because I wanted to advance my career and I was a nurse in Japan], which was offered by the hospital. I applied the year before, but I was unsuccessful due to my weak English ability in medical terminology. Then the person in charge of recruitment at the hospital asked me if I wanted to do a nursing assistant job to get used to the workplace, so I’ve been working as a nursing assistant alongside my home care for about five months. After that nursing assistant job, I did a course and became a nurse.

As Mika noted, despite the diminished presence of overt institutionalized linguicism in care work, it subtly shapes career trajectories. Her delayed entry into a nursing role due to her lack of familiarity with medical terminology and general English proficiency exemplifies how institutional systems implicitly uphold English hegemony in care industry. Such barriers, while less explicit than hiring discrimination, highlight how institutionalized linguicism and overall symbolic violence operate through cultural expectations and field-specific rules that favor English-speakers in New Zealand, which became complicit with linguistic minorities like most study participants, who were willing to stay where they were, instead of seeking promotion and career advancement like Mika.

Interpersonal Linguicism in Caregiving: Language Communication With Residents

Participants emphasized the importance of language skills in delivering high-quality care and frequently reported interpersonal linguicism as a central challenge in performing their caregiving roles effectively. Their experiences highlight the intersection of linguistic minority status, structural inequalities, and interpersonal dynamics in caregiving contexts. Participants described recurring experiences of subtle and sometimes overt linguicism in their daily interactions with residents (see also Spencer et al., 2010). Hanako, a care worker in her 30s who is a single mother and came to New Zealand on a guardian visa, shared her frustration with residents’ dismissive attitudes based on her accent:

Maybe I just don’t notice [language communication challenges]? There are many residents who are rather wealthy, so I don’t know if it’s [language] discrimination or just them looking down on people, but there are some who treat others like servants … The rest is just accent, like when I say something they don’t listen, but when my Kiwi [colloquial term for New Zealander] colleagues say it, they listen … It’s frustrating, but I guess it can’t be helped.

Akiko, a care worker in her 30s who is a former nurse and single mother and came to New Zealand on a student visa, echoed this sentiment, emphasizing the power imbalance inherent in their interactions with native-speaker residents: “What is hard mentally … of course, that would be the language barrier. The residents … well, they’re Kiwis, and my English isn’t perfect … that brings its problems, of course.” Furthermore, Takako shared her experience of receiving an anonymous complaint from residents for speaking a foreign language at workplace:

Every year they conduct some kind of survey among the residents. I was told that while I was working, I should only speak English. Many of them were wealthy, and, in the serviced apartments, most residents didn’t really need any care, so me speaking a foreign language is what they complained about. They couldn’t understand what I was saying. I don’t think that, in a hospital or a dementia ward, you would get such complaints. But, in the serviced apartments, there are lots of people who are still well, and they pay lots of money so they expect to get looked after very well, but they can’t understand what I say (laughter). What can you do? A lot of the nurses and care workers are Filipinos, and they all speak good English.

Takako’s experience may echo many linguistic minorities’ experience at workplaces (e.g., Ainsworth, 2010; Spencer et al., 2010) and provide critical insights into how some hospitals in New Zealand enforced “English only” rules at workplaces due to patients and residents’ complaints (see, e.g., Pennington & Xia, 2024).

From a critical language studies’ perspective, these narratives point to the broader dynamics of power and privilege embedded in the caregiving relationships and reinforced through symbolic violence. Wealthier residents may subconsciously replicate societal hierarchies and feel self-entitlement, treating participants as subordinates due to their accent or language skills (see also Duffy, 2007). By viewing these interpersonal experiences through a critical perspective, we see that linguicism faced by Hanako and Chie is not merely a personal or individual issue but is deeply rooted in structural inequalities, power imbalances, and dominant language ideologies that shape their work environment. Indeed, residents’ preferences for “Kiwi” care workers reflect entrenched language ideologies that may equate linguistic fluency and accents with competence, credibility, and, in fact, power. While, due to symbolic violence, both Hanako and Chie tried to accept and justify linguicism by reminding themselves that “they live in New Zealand,” their frustration, and even psychological damage, is notable (see, e.g., Dovchin, 2020).

Interpersonal Linguicism in Caregiving: Language Communication With Co-Workers and Managers

Interpersonal linguicism extends to interactions with co-workers and managers, highlighting how language communication influenced workplace dynamics and exacerbated feelings of isolation and psychological damage among participants. They described instances where their linguistic minority status shaped their relationships and work experiences. In such multicultural and multilingual work environments, for Akiko, language communication resulted in feelings of exclusion, particularly when co-workers used their native languages, leaving Akiko unable to participate or understand:

Among the staff members, for instance, people from the Philippines speak their own language, right? Which I cannot understand at all. It’s not English or anything. At times like that I feel really isolated. It’s not that I want to join in the conversation, it’s just that then I have no idea what they’re trying to do or whatever, and then I’m one step behind with the work. When I talk to them in English, they will respond in English, but, in a place like the staff room when you’re on a break, it’s lonely when you can’t join in. But when they’re enjoying chatting among themselves in their language, I don’t want to interrupt them … If I have any questions during work, I address them in English.

However, despite the importance of English in interaction among staff in multilingual work environment, speaking English among staff was not always helpful. Chie, a home-visit carer in her 40s who is a former nurse and came to New Zealand on a student visa, reflected on communication in her previous workplaces, noting that while English was the common language, it was often “broken English,” which allowed only for basic interaction among them: “Well, [communication among staff] is all in English. Everyone speaks broken English (laughs).”

Besides the feeling of exclusion and lack of communication among staff, accent-based discrimination emerged as a pervasive issue, with participants noting its impact on their interactions also with co-workers and managers. While it has been a recognized area of research in linguistics and language studies (e.g., Lippi-Green, 2012; Uekusa, 2009), it is often disregarded or not fully comprehended by the native speakers of English (including co-workers, residents, researchers, practitioners, and policymakers) in New Zealand or the speakers of de facto/dominant languages in other contexts due to language hegemony (Phillipson, 1992). Chie shared instances where her accent led to dismissive or discriminatory comments from co-workers (and residents as discussed in the previous section):

Kiwi co-workers sometimes say, “I can’t understand you because your accent is too strong,” even though I know it is. I get told that by the residents too. When they tell me, I can only act dumb. In a way, because it’s in English, I can just ignore it. If it had been said in Japanese, I would have been hurt, but because it’s in English, I can just let it go … but there are still times when it really hurts. Sometimes I ask co-workers some questions, and some people say things like that on purpose.

These experiences demonstrate how proficiency in the dominant/de facto language intersects with possible workplace hierarchies, positioning non-linguistic minorities as gatekeepers of communication and reinforcing interpersonal as well as institutionalized linguicism, marginalizing linguistic minority care workers, who need to pay linguistic penalty and internalize the feeling of oppression. Several participants recounted instances of workplace bullying tied to their English proficiency. Similarly, Ayako described how co-workers ignored and undermined her due to English skills:

I got ignored, of course, [because of my English]. The worst time was when I was chased by a colleague. Or they didn’t tell me when they noticed something, so I’d make a mistake. It never stopped. Often it was unbelievable. I resigned at the same time as my Japanese co-worker [because of the colleague], and I moved to another job.

Chie also highlighted the challenges of negotiating with native-speaker co-workers:

I think [Kiwi co-workers] are treated so well. It’s totally different from my previous workplace. It’s scary for migrants [like us], but you have to fight with those Kiwis (laughs), but you can’t beat them with words [because my English is limited].

These accounts reflect how perceived linguicism compounds other forms of workplace inequality, such as limited access to better shifts or professional advancement for linguistic minority workers.

Internalizing Linguicism in Caregiving

Participants commonly attributed their communication challenges to personal failings, reflecting the deep internalization of linguistic oppression, which reinforces symbolic violence. This aligns with what Uekusa (2009) described as the internalization of micro-level linguicism, where linguistic minorities comply with dominant language ideologies that reinforce their marginalization, often accepting perceived inferiority and self-blaming for their circumstances. Such internalization underscores the emotional toll of inadequate systemic support and “hidden” forms of social oppression. As Phillipson (1988, 1992) observes, language often functions as a mechanism to legitimate and perpetuate unequal distribution of power and resources. Following Bourdieu’s theory, the participants’ narratives demonstrate how these dynamics manifest in both broader structural inequalities and interpersonal interactions, often in implicit forms, yet linguistic minorities tend to even internalize language oppression.

Participants often framed their struggle with communication as personal deficiencies. Self-blame for “not speaking English well enough” was a recurring theme, with many participants expressing frustration over their limited English proficiency and perceived inadequacies. For example, Hanako described her difficulty in providing emotional support to residents:

Interpersonal communication with residents is quite hard. I feel that it would be easier if I could speak English fluently and understand people immediately. For example, if a Kiwi old man is crying, I wanna say something tasteful and comforting, but I can’t say those things yet in English, so it makes me feel a bit troubled.

As Hanako noted, this self-blame extended beyond functional communication to a broader sense of inadequacy, with participants possibly equating English proficiency with emotional caregiving competence. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the added constraints of pandemic protocols, such as mask mandates, further amplified communication difficulties for which again some participants self-blamed. Haruko, a home-visit carer in her 50s who is a former nurse and a single mother, noted:

The work I do hasn’t changed all that much [during the pandemic]. As an essential worker, I was working as I always was … The hard part was probably having to wear a mask all the time. I use an N95 medical mask, but it’s difficult to talk when you wear it. [Caregiving] is not the kind of work you can do in silence, right? Because it involves human interaction. Facial expressions are limited to the eyes, and English isn’t my first language. Until now I was able to communicate with a combination of words and facial expressions, but communicating became difficult. That is a big change. It wouldn’t be a problem if I was a native English speaker.

Haruko’s self-blame is notable here, perceiving that the difficulties in communication might not exist “if she were a native English speaker.” This internalized linguicism shifts the burden of adaptation onto the linguistic minority care workers themselves like Haruko, obscuring the systemic inequalities that limit their ability to communicate effectively.

Internalizing linguicism compounds the stress of already challenging care work. Chie’s comment below, while she tried to ignore linguicism, reflects how she rationalized her experience of linguicism as an inevitable aspect of being a “foreigner” in an English-speaking country, which was indeed common among participants:

Residents don’t understand [me] because they assume they won’t understand me no matter what I say. So when a Kiwi staff member comes, their attitude changes. Well, I can’t help with my accent. I’m old and I’m learning English. Sometimes I leave saying, “If you don’t understand, it’s fine.” In a way, it seems to me that it’s normal to experience discrimination because you’re in a foreign country.

Her reflection demonstrates the emotional weight of internalized linguicism, where Chie and others internalized dominant language ideologies and rationalized discriminatory treatment as part of their migrant experience due to the notable effect of symbolic violence, instead of advocating for changes.

Interestingly, internalization of linguicism also manifested when participants compared their communication ability with their co-workers. Ayako expressed envy toward migrant co-workers who seem to face fewer language barriers in caregiving:

[Communication difficulty] is because of my English. When I can’t understand what the other person is saying, or … unlike us, many Filipinos had already been a nurse in the Philippines before they came here, right? So they already know English from the start and don’t find communication such hard. People from India are alright too, so it’s just us Japanese, isn’t it, who are suffering with our English? (laughs). I’ll never be any good at it. My children are real Kiwis. Their English is perfect. I’m jealous.

Similarly, Tomomi felt that Kiwi co-workers were inherently better at communication because of their English:

Communicating, well, language is a problem. How can I put this? I can’t express myself in a profound way, and perhaps I can’t quite get what [residents] are feeling. For instance, there’s a particular way that Kiwis have a conversation, right? Even if I was able to speak English, I always wonder how I can say this, how to have a conversation, how to find words of encouragement. Of course, you can see that Kiwi caregivers are better at that.

These narratives, especially feeling of “inferiority,” highlight an underexplored dimension of linguicism in caregiving: its profound impact on mental well-being of linguistic minority care workers. While internalized linguicism may not hinder their ability to optimal care, it may impose a significant psychological toll. By justifying their challenges as intrinsic to being a “migrant” in New Zealand, participants reinforced their “invisible” vulnerabilities and simply complied with the localized language hegemony of English. As we discuss in the next section, addressing internalized linguicism, which is rare, requires more theoretical engagement in care research and systemic changes in caregiving environments, including fostering more inclusive practices, acknowledging the value of diverse linguistic and cultural contributions in workplace, and challenging the dominant language ideologies that perpetuate linguicism at all levels.

Resisting or Reinforcing? The Dual Narratives of Linguicism in Caregiving

The experiences of participants highlight a dual narrative: while linguicism at institutional, interpersonal, and internalized levels presents significant challenges, it can also foster adaptation, agency, and empowerment, under certain conditions. Drawing on Bourdieu’s theory of symbolic violence, the nuanced dynamic requires a critical examination of how caregiving environments both perpetuate and challenge linguicism. While participants encountered substantial linguistic discrimination, they also developed coping strategies and personal growth. For example, Akiko reflected on her feeling of empowerment through her care work:

There were so many of these people [who required care], and the [caregivers] who were looking after them were so crucial. That’s completely changed my thinking. Until that time, I had been thinking that because I couldn’t speak English, I was useless in this society. But because I had worked as a cleaner [at a retirement village], I had gained a little bit of useful experience, right? That gave me a bit of confidence. Because when you’re working in an English language environment, you have to deal with the boss in English, even about small things, so that gave me confidence I can look after them.

While Ayako expressed a belief that her limited English made her feel “useless,” conforming to the hegemony of English and her subordination, she also explained the development of her self-confidence and expressed her feeling of empowerment:

My self-confidence grew gradually. I had passed Level 3 [New Zealand Certificate in Health and Wellbeing]. When I had to write small paragraphs for an easy assessment, at first, I used to think it was hard, but I gradually gained more confidence. Because of COVID, I was pushed out of my comfort zone (laughs). Until then, I had thought that I would probably never be able to achieve anything in New Zealand because of my limited English. But I can! I have just finished my practical at Auckland Hospital this Tuesday. I was really worried that they wouldn’t understand my English, but it wasn’t a big problem, so maybe it had improved a little bit.

Akiko’s and Ayako’s reflections illustrate how these linguistic minority care workers, despite being positioned as disadvantaged, adapted and gained self-confidence through their work experiences. Akiko noted that working in English-speaking care environments, although initially intimidating, ultimately helped build her confidence. Likewise, Ayako’s growing self-assurance in written English assessments and her ability to navigate professional settings demonstrate the transformative potential of these challenges. This adaptation contradicts assumptions of vulnerability often associated with linguistic minorities and emphasizes their evolving agency in navigating linguicism.

However, it is important to critically examine this paradox of linguicism which lies in its dual role: does this adaptation signify their empowerment, or does it simply reinforce linguicism? While labor shortages in the New Zealand care sector created opportunities for participants and promoted personal and professional developments, it also simply reinforced linguicism. Many participants, like Akemi, who did not receive language and culture trainings, initially experienced social exclusion due to linguicism and cultural clashes and struggled with self-doubt. Over time, they eventually became more proficient in English-speaking care work environments and familiar with local culture, but their adaptation often occurred within a system that normalizes, and often fortifies, linguicism.

Drawing on Bourdieu’s theory of symbolic violence, we argue that this form of empowerment is constrained by the broader structures of language ideologies and linguistic domination. Therefore, many participants viewed their English improvement as a matter of individual responsibility rather than challenging the broader structures that perpetuate English dominance, even in micro-level interactions with care recipients, co-workers, and managers and in the broader care landscape. Through Bourdieu’s theories of habitus and field which are integral parts of symbolic violence theory, language often functions as a mechanism to legitimate and perpetuate unequal distribution of power at macro level as well as in micro-level interactions, which was clearly exemplified in participants’ narratives (see also Phillipson, 1988, 1992; Uekusa, 2009). This explains why self-improvement was framed as conforming to dominant language norms rather contesting linguistically discriminatory policies and norms such as “English only” rules in the workplace (see, e.g., Ainsworth, 2010; Pennington & Xia, 2024). For example, Mika and other participants did not actively seek promotions or career advancement, as they had internalized the perception that opportunities in New Zealand were inherently limited for those with limited English proficiency. In the context specific to care, while labor shortages in the industry provided them with employment opportunities without significant linguistic penalty, institutionalized linguicism constrained their career progression, reinforcing the dominance of English and marginalizing those with limited labor skills and language proficiency.

Discussion

Our analysis revealed that Japanese care workers in our study experienced both subtle and sometimes overt linguicism in caregiving. These findings resonate with international research showing how linguicism shapes caregiving dynamics in other developed countries. For example, studies in the United Kingdom (Spencer et al., 2010) and Australia (Adebayo et al., 2023) similarly highlight how MCWs frequently face accent discrimination, limited career mobility, and feeling of professional inadequacy, partly due to linguicism. Similar to Japanese care workers in this study, Doyle and Timonen (2009) and Timonen and Doyle (2010) also found that MCWs in their studies in Ireland often blamed themselves for communication difficulties. This pattern is not unique to the New Zealand context but reflects broader, global patterns of linguicism in caregiving.

Drawing on Bourdieu’s theory of symbolic violence, these narratives—both in our study and the international literature—point to the broader dynamics of power, privilege, and domination embedded in language communication within care work. As noted in our analysis, a recurring theme was self-blame for “not speaking English well enough,” with many participants equating English proficiency with caregiving competence and accepting their subordinated positions in care settings (and presumably in their general social experiences in New Zealand). These internalized beliefs among participants reflected how symbolic violence operated to normalize linguicism, making them complicit in their own marginalization. This finding highlights an undertheorized aspect of linguicism in care and aging research: its profound impact on the mental well-being of linguistic minority care workers. Many participants described feelings of isolation, stress, and self-doubt, exacerbated by their internalized belief that their language skills determined their professional worth. As existing research suggests, such internalized linguicism can further contribute to chronic stress, burnout, and social isolation among MCWs, who are much needed in the New Zealand care industry (see also Badkar et al., 2009; Colins & Wilson, 2008; Goodhead & McDonald, 2007; Song & McDonald, 2021).

While this study predominantly focused on linguicism in caregiving, it is crucial to recognize how it also intersects with cultural clashes and broader forms of inequality, including racism, gender oppression, economic precarity, and migration status (Chan et al., 2021; Roth et al., 2015; Uekusa, 2025). Addressing linguicism in caregiving therefore requires a shift away from individual responsibility narratives toward systemic transformation (Uekusa, 2009). Rather than viewing linguistic minority care workers as passive victims of the system, it is important to acknowledge their agency while advocating for structural changes that foster more inclusive, multicultural, and multilingual care environments. As Bourdieu would argue, employers and policymakers must recognize that overcoming “language barriers” should not be the sole burden of linguistic minority care workers. While individual care institutions and the wider industry have limited capacity to transform field and dismantle broader linguicism, they urgently need MCWs and can take concrete steps at the group level, such as implementing multilingual policies, providing linguistic support, and challenging discriminatory language ideologies. Without such changes, symbolic violence will continue to normalize and justify linguicism, undermining linguistic minority care workers’ opportunities and well-being but also exacerbating workforce shortages by creating discriminatory and exploitative work environments, leading to the industry’s unsustainability.

The institutionalized, interpersonal, and internalized linguicism faced by Japanese care workers in this study not only hinder individual well-being but also undermine the development of a more equitable, sustainable, and resilient care workforce. This issue is particularly pressing in aging societies like New Zealand, where one in four people is expected to be aged 65 or older by 2050 (Stats, NZ 2022). As aging populations increasingly rely on MCWs in aged and other care sectors, transformative approaches are urgently needed to address linguicism and to challenge symbolic violence, even at the workplace level. Simply expecting linguistic minority care workers to adapt to dominant language and cultural norms is impractical, unethical, and ultimately unsustainable as this complies with symbolic violence and reinforces linguicism. Instead, host societies and care institutions must develop inclusive frameworks that recognize linguistic diversity as an asset and challenge entrenched linguicism. Therefore, empowering these linguistic minority care workers requires a shift from merely increasing cultural and linguistic capital for them and accommodating linguistic diversity in care environment to more actively valuing it as an asset. While it is difficult to challenge linguicism at structural and ideological level, care institutions and wider care industry could meaningfully intervene at the interpersonal and internalized levels. They can celebrate multiculturalism, implement multilingual communication training, foster inclusive practices, and build culturally and linguistically safe work environments for both care recipients and care workers, which ultimately normalize linguistic diversity and challenge dominant language ideologies, even in a limited social space. This will help in reducing the difficulties faced by linguistic minority care workers in providing quality care. Finally, the participants’ narratives highlight the need for critical engagement with structural conditions that perpetuate linguicism. While individual adaptation and resilience are commendable, relying solely on workers to solve all levels of linguicism shifts the burden away from care institutions and society. Properly addressing linguicism requires not only supporting workers’ well-being but also challenging the social conditions that make linguistic assimilation necessary in the first place.

While this study provides important insights into the experiences of Japanese care workers, the authors acknowledge some limitations. First, the sample was limited to 10 participants who were willing and able to engage in in-depth interviews, potentially excluding harder-to-reach individuals. Second, due to the nature of qualitative research, findings are not intended to be generalized beyond the specific context, although they offer valuable insights for policy and practice. In addition, this study does not capture the experiences of other linguistic minority care worker groups such as Chinese, Filipino, and Indian who represent a significant portion of New Zealand’s migrant care workforce. These limitations highlight the need for further research on linguicism in caregiving that includes a broader range of linguistic minority care workers in New Zealand and other countries.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while the size and scope of this study focusing on a particular nationality and ethnic group preclude generalizable findings and policy recommendations, its contributions to the field of gerontology, health sciences, language studies, and sociology are both theoretical and empirical. By critically examining the everyday experiences of Japanese care workers in New Zealand, the research foregrounds the underexplored issue of linguicism in caregiving, including its institutional, interpersonal, and internalized forms. Drawing on Bourdieu’s theory, this study challenges the tendency to view linguicism in caregiving as merely individual shortcomings or “language barriers.” Instead, we demonstrated how symbolic violence shaped the caregiving environment in ways that marginalized participants while simultaneously placing the responsibility on them to adapt.

Our findings point to the need for systemic transformation that shifts responsibility away from individual care workers and toward systemic changes that promote linguistic inclusion and justice, including developing policies that recognize linguistic diversity as an asset, implementing multilingual and multicultural communication training, and fostering culturally and linguistically safe care environment. These interventions are not only ethically necessary but also crucial for addressing labor shortages and improving care outcomes in aging societies like New Zealand. Given the global trends of population aging and the increasing reliance on MCWs, further research and theorization on linguicism in caregiving are imperative if care facilities are to continue recruiting care workers from overseas who might not be proficient in the dominant/de facto language spoken by care recipients, co-workers, and others in care environments. Future studies should expand on this work by exploring a wide range of linguistic minority groups, contributing to practical interventions, and theorizing linguicism in caregiving across diverse cultural contexts. Such efforts to challenge linguicism and symbolic violence in care will not only empower linguistic minority care workers but also contribute to more just and sustainable care systems, better equipped to meet the needs of culturally and linguistically diverse populations.