Working with acculturation stress in coaching #4

When I moved to Berlin at the age of twenty‑five, I had completed my studies in French literature and felt reasonably confident in my ability to think, argue, and express myself with some nuance. I had learned German, could follow conversations, and could participate in everyday exchanges without major difficulty. Yet in more complex situations - debates, administrative encounters, moments that required precision -my German was limited. I heard myself speak and recognised a gap between what I wanted to say and what I managed to articulate. My sentences felt simpler than my thoughts. My tone sounded more childish than my age and education suggested. And the worst of all: I had lost my sense of humour.

This discrepancy became a source of identity stress. I experienced a tension between how I understood myself and how I appeared in many interactions. Inside, I carried the history of my studies, my work, my relationships, and the languages in which I had developed them. Outside, I sounded hesitant, imprecise, and sometimes naïve. I could feel the subtle shifts in how people responded: slower explanations, assumptions that I would not understand, evaluations of my competence based on my syntax. In contact with state officers, this sometimes took clearer forms: impatience, patronising remarks, a tone reserved for someone who is expected to simply comply without objections.

Over time, this produced a sense of being pereceived as someone younger, less capable, and less informed than I was. The experience did not only concern language, but language was probably the trigger. It touched my sense of worth and place. I sometimes reacted with misplaced arrogance, as if over‑assertion could compensate for the feeling of being underestimated. At other times, I withdrew, spoke less, or accepted interpretations that felt inaccurate because I did not have the linguistic resources to contest them properly. Whether these dynamics really reflected other people's intentions or were in my head is difficult to separate. What mattered was that I often felt humiliated by the gap between who I knew myself to be and how I was treated in a range of situations.

In this piece I am trying to make sense of that experience and also discuss how I use it to inform my coaching practice.

This kind of identity stress is obviously not limited to my own trajectory, but is a structural risk for many migrants. When someone moves into a new linguistic and institutional environment, their ability to display their knowledge, competence, and maturity depends on how quickly they can acquire not only vocabulary, but also register, tone, and context‑specific codes. During this period, they may be highly skilled in their original context and simultaneously appear inexperienced or uninformed in the new one.

Identity stress arises at the point where this discrepancy is repeatedly mirrored back. If people are spoken to as if they were children, if their knowledge is ignored because it is expressed in an unfamiliar accent or will some hesitance, if their questions are treated as signs of lack rather than as attempts to orient themselves, the person is invited to inhabit an identity that does not match their own internal sense.

Over time, this can erode confidence, intensify self‑doubt, and produce defensive patterns ranging from silence to overcompensation.The logic at work here can be described in simple terms. Many institutional settings rely on quick categorisation: who is competent, who needs guidance, who is a risk, who can be trusted. Language proficiency, familiarity with forms, and adherence to local social codes often function as shortcuts for these judgements. Migrants who do not yet fully master these codes are easily placed in categories associated with dependence and immaturity. The classification may be unintended, yet its effects are concrete.

I am not using infantilisation here in a metaphorical sense. I want to describe a particular way of relating: instructions instead of explanations, monitoring instead of dialogue, correction instead of negotiation. In the context of migration, such practices appear in small and larger forms: a bureaucrat speaking slowly and loudly, a colleague deciding on someone’s behalf without consultation, a neighbour addressing a grown person in the tone used for adolescents. These gestures communicate a position: you are not quite a full participant, you are not yet capable of shared responsibility.

More abstractly, this can be seen as a denial of adult subjectivity. An adult subject is someone recognised as able to form judgments, to understand reasons, and to take responsibility. Infantilisation interrupts this recognition. It shifts the person into a role where their intentions are less important than their compliance, where their experiences count mainly as background to the instructions they receive. In such interactions, the migrant is not treated as an interlocutor but as an object of management.

This has implications for identity. Our sense of self is not formed only internally; it is shaped by how we are addressed, by what kinds of responses we elicit, by which roles we are invited to occupy. When someone is consistently addressed in ways that imply immaturity, their identity is pushed toward a narrower, more dependent version of adulthood. Even if they resist internally, the repetition of such interactions can create a split between their lived history and the position they are granted in the new environment.

Identity stress in these conditions generates vulnerability. The person becomes more exposed to evaluations that feel unjust, more sensitive to tones that suggest condescension, and more alert to possible humiliation. They may read situations closely and anticipate disrespect in order to protect themselves, which in turn requires effort and attention. At the same time, they may develop defensive strategies.

These strategies differ. Some people reduce their participation, speak less, avoid situations where they might be judged, or confine themselves to safe circles where their competence is recognised. Others respond with visible assertiveness, strong opinions, or a refusal to acknowledge their own uncertainty. In my own case, moments of misplaced arrogance sometimes appeared as a way to resist the experience of being placed in a childlike role. The defence itself could then be read by others as confirmation of immaturity, creating a loop that reinforced the original problem.

The difficulty here is that both withdrawal and over‑assertion can limit possibilities. Withdrawal reduces access to information and relationships that might support integration. Over‑assertion can strain interactions and lead to conflict or further exclusion. The person faces a double bind: accept a diminished position or risk negative reactions when trying to contest it.

In coaching with coachees who describe similar experiences, I begin by treating identity stress as a legitimate and understandable response to structural conditions, rather than as a purely individual weakness. When someone speaks about feeling humiliated, underestimated, or infantilised, the first step is to acknowledge the reality of such experiences and the effort it takes to live with them. This validation is not about confirming every interpretation as accurate, but about recognising that the underlying tension between internal identity and external positioning is substantive.

From there, we proceed along three lines:

The first concerns description. We take time to map situations in which the person feels treated as a child: by whom, in what settings, with which words, tones, and gestures. Fine‑grained description helps distinguish patterns from exceptions and reduces the sense that “this is always happening” when in fact it may be concentrated in particular contexts. It also allows recognition of moments in which the person is treated as an adult subject, which can become important counterweights.

The second line concerns meaning‑making. Together, we examine how these interactions affect the coachee’s self‑understanding. Do they begin to doubt their competence, their worth, their right to speak? Do they respond with anger, withdrawal, or ironic distance? How do these responses connect with earlier experiences in their life, before migration? This inquiry situates current feelings within a longer personal history and reveals where the experience of infantilisation lands in the person’s narrative about themselves.

The third line concerns agency. Without denying the structural nature of the problem, we explore where the coachee sees room for movement. This can involve practical strategies -preparing key sentences for bureaucratic encounters, choosing contexts where their expertise is recognised, seeking allies who can share or redistribute interactional burdens. But mostly, it will involve internal work: strengthening the sense of adult subjectivity independent of external validation, recognising defensive patterns that no longer serve them, and experimenting with new ways of responding that maintain dignity without escalating conflict.

Throughout this process, my own trajectory remains present as a background. Having experienced long periods in which my language made me sound younger and less capable than I felt, I can recognise the texture of certain descriptions and ask questions that invite more nuanced articulation: about tone, about context, about the difference between feeling diminished and being explicitly treated as lesser. This does not mean offering advice in the sense of “what worked for me will work for you.” It means using my experience to open perspectives that the coachee can accept, reject, or modify according to their situation.

Working with acculturation stress in this way includes identity stress and the experience of infantilisation as central themes rather than marginal notes. Coaching becomes a space where these experiences can be named, examined, and reframed, and where coachees are supported in developing responses that honour their history, protect their sense of self, and maintain their capacity to participate in the new environment as adults with their own knowledge and responsibilities.