How I Lost My Accent

It's disappointing to see progressives acting as elitists, and particularly so when dealing with people who should be targets of progressive reform, not progressive mocking, as in this post at Pandagon, for example. Many of the comments focus on the guys accent, with the almost gratuitous references to inbreeding, instead of the guys hate and ignorance.

I once had a pretty heavy southern accent. It still comes out now and then, and my short vowels are forever muddled. If I were ever in a life-or-death situation that required quickly distinguishing between a "pen" and a "pin," I would be screwed. Most of the time, though, my accent is all but completely gone, and has been since I was an undergraduate. The reason for this is pretty simple: once I left home, where pretty much everyone had an accent like mine, I got made fun of for my accent. This was especially true when I was among smarter folks, most of whom were from the Midwest. They associated my accent with ignorance and stupidity, and made this very clear to me.

The first time I realized my accent was "different" came during my second week of college. I was in an Intro to Sociology course with about 50 students, one of whom was Antoine Walker. For basketball fans this a big deal. I was shy, and generally didn't speak up in class, even in high school. However, when the professor asked if there was anyone in the class who thought he or she didn't have an accent, I raised my hand, thinking both that I didn't have an accent, because everyone where I'm from talked just like me, and that a bunch of other people would raise their hands too. Unfortunately, I was wrong on both counts. I was the only one who raised his hand, and when the professor then asked me where I was from, I was forced to speak. I replied simply, "Nashville," but in dialect that word is pronounced "Nayshvull." The entire class burst into laughter at that one word. I was horrified. I was being laughed at in front of 50 peers, one of whom happened to be a basketball player of whom I was a big fan.

From that moment on, I was constantly and deeply conscious of my accent, and when people continued to make fun of it, including faculty and fellow students (particularly in the philosophy department, where being snooty is raised to an art form), I consciously chose to get rid of it. And I did.

And that's a shame, because my accent was part a big part of who I am, because where I'm from was and remains a big part of who I am.