In most of my UX research journey, I’ve worked with large corporates and international clients — primarily from the UK — where English was the common working language. I became fluent not just in conversation, but in understanding diverse accents, contexts, and workflows. And while I’ve always believed that a user is a user, no matter where they come from or what language they speak, something shifted recently.
When I started working with Indian companies and got a chance to conduct user interviews with Indian consumers in their native languages — Hindi, Marathi, and sometimes even a mix — it felt incredibly refreshing. Not because the user problems were simpler or the feedback was easier to collect, but because something clicked in the way we connected.
When I begin a session with, “Kaise ho aap?”, I often see a wide smile. The room — virtual or in-person — suddenly feels warmer. Ice-breaking isn’t a task anymore; it’s automatic. Speaking the same language as your participant feels like meeting a stranger in a foreign city who happens to speak your dialect. Instantly, you feel safe, heard, and more willing to talk.
That’s the feeling I experienced — not just as a researcher, but as a fellow human being trying to understand another.
One participant told me about his frustration by saying, “Yeh toh sirf naam ka customer service hai, madam.” That line, filled with sarcasm and local flavor, wouldn’t have landed the same way in English. But in Hindi, I could feel the exact weight of his disappointment — and that helped me translate it into meaningful insight for the business.
Over the years, I’ve led dozens of user interviews and conversations in English — with participants from different regions and backgrounds — and have built meaningful connections in each one. I’ve asked sensitive questions, received honest answers, and uncovered deep insights. Language was never a barrier.
But this recent experience reminded me that while language doesn’t define our ability to uncover insights, it can sometimes enhance the emotional layer of the conversation when it aligns with the user’s daily life. That comfort reflects in how much they share, how they express frustrations, and even in their silences.
It made me wonder: just as I felt that extra comfort speaking in a shared language, did the participants from the UK ever feel the reverse? Would they have felt even more at ease if they spoke to someone from their own city, who understood their slang, context, or cultural tone? It’s a question that stays with me — not as regret, but as a reminder of how nuanced and human our work really is.
Language is not a barrier — it’s a bridge. In UX research, our job is to build that bridge as comfortably as possible, regardless of the tools we use. Speaking in someone’s native tongue doesn’t guarantee better data, but it might just make the journey smoother — for both the user and the researcher.