🕒 Read Time: ~5 minutes
🔑 Key Takeaways:
The term “Speech and Language Therapist” feels clinical and disconnected from the heart of the work.
The profession has colonial, medicalised roots that exclude many cultural and communicative experiences.
Titles shape perception — and the current one doesn’t reflect the full, nuanced picture of what we do.
There’s a need to find language that’s more connecting, inclusive, and human.
You’re not alone if you’ve felt unsure or uncomfortable using the title.
This one’s been sitting with me for a while, and I’ve finally put it into words.
I still care deeply about this profession. I haven’t stepped away from the work, the CPD, or the mission we’re all on.
But the title itself?
It no longer fits — and here’s why.
“Speech and Language Therapist” feels clinical. Detached.
It misses the heart of what we really do:
Building trust and connection
Deep relationships
Helping people express themselves in ways that feel safe and true
It also erases parts of our scope, such as swallowing, cultural nuance and the space we create for all the ways people communicate that aren’t overtly seen through just speech and language.
I’ve been digging into this more deeply, especially after reading the paper: “Decolonizing Speech Language ‘Pathology’: Critical Foundational Concepts for Research, Pedagogy, and Praxis” by María Rosa Brea-Spahn, Betty Yu, and Vishnu Nair.
Speech and language therapy, as we know it today, has its roots in Euro-Western ideals, shaped by colonial power structures, settler narratives, and medicalised views of communication.
The early profession was never created with our languages, dialects, or ways of expressing ourselves in mind. It was built to standardise, correct, and "rehabilitate", often through a lens of whiteness, ableism, and cultural dominance.
St. Pierre and St. Pierre (2018) take it a step further:
After WWII, speech became tied to economic productivity.
Any kind of variation in speech was seen as a problem to be fixed, a barrier to contributing to the industrialised, capitalist nation-state.
Difference was pathologised not because it caused harm, but because it didn’t fit the mould of efficiency and control.
This history still shapes:
The way we assess
The language we use
Who gets referred (and who doesn’t)
Who receives support — and who still gets left out
So when I say the title doesn’t sit right anymore, it’s not just about the wording.
It’s about the systems, assumptions, and frameworks tied to it.
I still say “Speech and Language Therapist” as it’s what people recognise.
But even then, I see the disconnect.
People say, “Oh, so you help fix people’s speech?”
And then I dive into everything else:
Communication
Connection
Swallowing
Identity
Culture
Advocacy
Relationships
Honestly, it can take a good 10 minutes to really explain what the profession is all about!
It’s never a simple answer.
And maybe… that’s the point.
We need to use words that feel more connecting, accessible and just REAL.
We need to meet people where they’re at!
Have you ever sat with this too?
Have you ever felt like the title just doesn’t quite fit?
If you could scrap it and start fresh…
What would you call yourself?
💭 A final note:
Thanks for sticking with me through this passionate ramble,
Written by Nisha Veerd, resident overthinker and heart behind South Asian SALT.
My husband’s usually the one getting the full TED Talk download on all this,
so I think he’s just relieved I’m finally channelling it somewhere other people can receive it too 😅!
I’d love to hear your thoughts (and what you’d rename the profession)!
You can find me over on LinkedIn or Instagram, where the chai-fuelled conversations continue! ☕💬
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