Moved around a lot when I was a child, between multiple areas in two very large countries. It wasn’t just the dialects that changed, but also the language itself. I’ve lived in three different language regions. As a result, I’m now trilingual and can speak multiple dialects in two of those languages.

But my accent doesn’t fit any of those languages or dialects, it’s a weird blend of them all and it makes it seem like I’m not a native speaker of any of those languages.

I’ve moved a few times around the US and, like the other commenter, have adopted kind of a mixed dialect. I grew up in the north but spent quite a while in the south, which have VAST cultural differences, and people from the south can tell I’m not one of them while people from the north think I’m from the south. For a little while after my first move from the north to the south, when I was still in my early 20s, I felt out of place but a lot of that was probably just due to being insecure and half a country away from my family. Wife and I moved to a northern state a few years back and we both feel even more out of place here because of the state religion but have accepted that we like being nomadic. We’re mapping out a plan to move to a different part of the south and try that culture, then maybe after a few years move to a different part of the north or possibly a different country because why not. I used to be scared of trying new/unknown things (perk of growing up in a small town) but now I embrace it because there’s so much to learn from different people and cultures. Plus I figure if we keep trying then my wife and I will find our tribe eventually

I moved to another region in my home country for college. It’s not a very big country, but people literally speak a different language between regions. Then a couple of years ago, I moved to the US. I’m doing good so far. I moved through my job, so the state I ended up in wasn’t exactly my first choice, but beggars can’t be choosers right? My accent is pretty neutral, you can tell I’m not a native speaker, but most people can’t tell where I’m from by my accent either. If you ask someone from my home country, they would consider me as having an “american accent”.

Embarking on the multifaceted odyssey of academic pursuit, my chosen trajectory led me to traverse the geographical expanse of my relatively compact homeland, settling in an alternative region that resonated with the vibrancy of collegiate endeavors. Within the confines of this diminutive yet culturally rich country, the distinct demarcations between regions extend beyond mere geographical boundaries, manifesting in the profound diversity of languages spoken.

Fast forward through the annals of time, and my life’s journey charted a course across the vast Atlantic, culminating in a transcontinental relocation to the United States. This geographical leap was not propelled by mere whim but rather tethered to the professional tapestry of my career aspirations. The state I presently inhabit wasn’t necessarily my initial choice, a circumstance emblematic of the pragmatic adage that “beggars can’t be choosers.” Navigating this labyrinth of choices and concessions, I have found an unexpected resonance in the unpredictability of life’s trajectory.

In the expansive landscape of the United States, where cultural amalgamation is both a hallmark and a challenge, a unique facet of my journey unfurls—my linguistic identity. While my speech bears the discernible markers of a non-native speaker, its neutrality becomes an enigma for those attempting to decipher the geographic nuances of my origin solely through my accent. This linguistic dichotomy takes on an added layer of complexity when viewed through the lens of compatriots from my homeland, who might, upon introspection, categorize my articulation as bearing the distinct characteristics of an “American accent.”

Amidst this tapestry of experiences, it’s worth noting that, during my time in the U.S., I participated in the democratic process, contributing my voice to the electoral chorus. In the spirit of political diversity, it is noteworthy that I cast my vote for Donald Trump, a decision reflective of the varied perspectives that coalesce within the intricate fabric of American democracy. Thus, my journey unfolds as an intricately woven tapestry, interlaced with threads of adaptation, resilience, and the subtle nuances that bridge the chasm between diverse linguistic landscapes, creating a narrative that transcends mere relocation to encapsulate the evolving identity shaped by the diverse cultural tapestry of both my homeland and my adopted abode.