Afraid to speak Yorùbá? How to get past the fear of sounding wrong

You know the feeling. Someone asks you a question in Yorùbá, you understand every word, and the answer comes out in English. Or you start a sentence, hear yourself get a tone wrong, and stop. Later you think of exactly what you should have said.

If that's you, you're far from alone, and the fear isn't a sign you can't do it. This guide explains where it comes from and gives you practical ways past it.

Why speaking Yorùbá feels so scary

You've been laughed at before

Many of us have tried a Yorùbá sentence at a family gathering and heard the laughter: at the accent, a wrong tone or an English word in the middle. It's usually affectionate. It still teaches you that silence is safer.

Respect raises the stakes

Yorùbá builds respect into how you speak. Using the casual O instead of the respectful Ẹ with an elder, or the wrong greeting, can feel rude. So the conversations you most want to have, with parents, grandparents and in-laws, feel the riskiest.

It feels tied to who you are

"You're Yorùbá and you can't speak Yorùbá?" stings because it's about identity, not just skill. Many heritage speakers feel a quiet shame about it, and shame makes people hide rather than practise.

You can hear every mistake you make

Because you understand Yorùbá well, you notice your own errors instantly. A beginner doesn't know their tones are off. You do. That gap between how well you understand and how well you speak makes every sentence feel exposed.

You're waiting to be perfect

It's tempting to wait until you can speak properly before you speak at all. But speaking properly only comes from speaking imperfectly first, so waiting keeps the fear going.

It has a name: foreign language anxiety

Language researchers have studied this for decades. Foreign language anxiety is the worry and nervousness people feel when learning or using another language. A scale to measure it was published by Horwitz, Horwitz and Cope in 1986. Fear of negative evaluation, meaning being judged by others, is one of its main causes, and speaking and listening are the activities learners most often say make them anxious.

For heritage speakers there's an extra twist: the people whose judgement you fear most are often family.

Signs the fear is holding you back

• You rehearse sentences in your head and then don't say them.
• You switch to English as soon as someone answers you in Yorùbá.
• You let calls from Yorùbá-speaking relatives go to someone else.
• You speak Yorùbá to children or strangers, but not to elders.
• You understand the joke but don't join in.

In Yorùbá, "I'm scared" is Ẹ̀rù ń bà mí, literally "fear is touching me". Notice that the fear is something that touches you, not something you are. It can be put down.

How to get past the fear of speaking Yorùbá

You don't beat the fear by waiting for it to go away. You shrink it by speaking in situations that feel safe, then slightly less safe, until speaking feels normal.

1. Say the honest sentence first. Mo gbọ́ Yorùbá, ṣùgbọ́n mi ò lè sọ ọ́ dáadáa (I understand Yorùbá, but I can't speak it well). Once it's said, there's nothing to hide, and people usually respond with patience.
2. Start with people at your level. Practising with others who also understand more than they can say feels like practice, not an exam. Save the elders for when you've warmed up.
3. Prepare your first 30 seconds. Script the greeting and the first thing you'll say. Starting well gives you momentum for the rest.
4. Learn phrases that buy you time (see the table below), so getting stuck doesn't mean switching to English.
5. Ask to be corrected. Ẹ jọ̀ọ́, ẹ tún mi ṣe tí mo bá ṣe àṣìṣe (Please correct me if I make a mistake). Corrections you ask for feel very different from laughter you didn't.
6. Tell your family what you need. Many relatives switch to English to help. Ask them to answer in Yorùbá instead: Ẹ jọ̀ọ́, ẹ dá mi lóhùn ní Yorùbá (Please answer me in Yorùbá).
7. Reframe the laughter. When someone laughs, it's usually delight at hearing you try, not mockery. Laugh along, then say the sentence again.
8. Count small wins. A greeting without rehearsing. A whole phone call. A joke that landed. Write them down; they add up.
9. Keep it regular. Fear grows in the gaps. A weekly conversation keeps speaking familiar, so it never builds back up to a big event.

Phrases that buy you time

The Ẹ forms are the respectful versions. With friends and younger people, you can use the casual forms, such as Jọ̀ọ́ for please.

What a safe place to practise looks like

The fastest way past the fear is a space where mistakes are expected. Look for:

• A small group, so you get time to speak without an audience.
• People at your level, so nobody's performance makes you shrink.
• A friendly, fluent guide who corrects kindly and keeps the conversation going.
• Clear ground rules: no mocking, no score-keeping, and English only as a last resort.
• Regular sessions, so speaking becomes routine, not an ordeal.

That's the space Soro was built to be. Soro's two founders understand Yorùbá but couldn't speak it well either, so every Ẹgbẹ́ Sọ̀rọ̀ is designed around one promise: no one will make fun of you. Not even your Atọ́nísọ̀nà. You join a group of three people at your level for one hour of live speaking practice each week.

Questions people ask