Where Duolingo Falls Down: How I Learned to Speak Welsh With My Mother

In this piece, Dan Fox reflects on learning Welsh, a historically marginalised language that still runs strongly through his family. Moving between family history and his own attempts to study—with apps, classes, and by talking with his mother—he explores what Welsh means to him in terms of identity, memory, and connection. Even as he recognises he may never be fully fluent, he finds value in the imperfect, shared process of learning and in the renewed bonds it creates.

The funeral was conducted in Welsh. It was my grandmother’s first language. Mum’s too. I didn’t understand a word. I followed the congregation when they stood to sing and sat to pray, but my grief remained isolated in English and the music of sniffly noses and creaky pews. Near the end of the service came a hymn. I recognised the melody, Cwm Rhondda (“coom ron-thuh”), so rousing and anthemic that Welsh rugby fans belt it out from the terraces before big matches. At the end of each verse, the lines repeat, step higher, and split into harmonies – everyone knows how these go, tenors climbing on baritones, sopranos atop altos. At its peak, the melody slows dramatically, voices at full power, before making a stately descent to its resolving chord.