Accents.

“Are you from London?” “Yeah, what gave it away?” “Well, your accent of course.” — Assistant in Strand Bookstore.

If I had a dollar for everytime someone said “You sound like you’re from London” copying that one Forgetting Sarah Marshall line or mentioned my accent — I wouldn’t be rich but, I would have enough to make it rain my local bodega. In a city where I’m lost in a multitude of people already and, at times I’m just trying to blend in and draw no suspicsion my accent undercuts all of that in one word.

My accent isn’t the only differentiator but, it’s the most salient point that renders me not American. When I was in college, I once had a professor make me read a whole chapter, just because it sounded smarter when I read it. I’ve practiced American accents outloud before but, when used mine isn’t the preppy and exaggerted female college student from California it’s an amalgamation of the borough I frequent and I use it only for a temporary shield. Depending on where I am and at what time — it morphs into the tone of a faux male Brooklynite. Those guys you see on the corner, or the voice amongst packs of teenagers walking freely down the block. People ask me things and I’ll reply “na I’m good” or “thank you” — drawing out certain vowels where need be. Disguised under a new dialect. A polite new me that doesn’t draw any suspiscion.

What I’m doing is not a new phenomonenom — essentially it’s code-switching — “the art of shifting and switching languages you use or the way you express yourself in conversations.” Code-switching introduces a new vernacular and way of speaking — a second language amongst people you know. I code-switched a lot at school, I felt as if the space demanded it. In the last year of sixth form (especially as I had a role that involved a lot of public speaking) but, I always felt like this new voice, this way of speaking wasn’t me. Then when I went to University I lost all of that — willingly. In this particular arena I understood that “speaking properly” isn’t a real thing, speaking your truth is — in whatever dialect you should so please. I remember as a postgraduate speaking with a friend about what it meant to be a poc academic in a predominantly white department. He saw the importance of us being in this space as we were. With our personal authenticity reflected in our work and, always having it presented in our own voice — as we were. In that particular space, my work as well as my voice was a break from the typical and, in the same way I’m learning to view my accent here as a disruptor to the status quo. Upon hearing it, it draws intrigue, creates conversation and also, evokes memory. They remember the city they visited through hearing me speak.

In my day to day of work — my accent is as London as I want it to be. I’m not yet restricted by setting or place. There’s something about the power of not only finding my voice in a new work environment but, of being me the only way I know how. Speaking English at work is funny, we’re not an office solely of Americans we’ve come via: Denmark, Sweden, Australia and El Salvador and London. There’s been moments where we’ve been lost in translation. One colleague said to me — “I understand about 75% of what you say. The other is blah, blah, blah British” and I’ve realised that speaking the same language in theory, doesn’t mean you understand each-other in practice at all. Sometimes, I have an anxiety about the sound of my own voice. I hate making phone calls because,my voice is so divorced from who I am but, here in my day to day it’s comical to hear how I sound through someone elses understanding. When my colleagues repeat words I say in their most accentuated English accent I laugh, I can’t believe that’s how I really sound.

Back “home” accents / ways of speaking or “ends talk” is interesting to me. There’s certain words permissible and distinctive only to certain parts of London. What sticks out is how you can carve out a new language using words we’re all meant to speak and understand. I once worked with a slang lexicographer who had traced the entire etymology of English slang. He said at its base, slang is rude words and insults however, modern slang is a new phenomenon — rapidly spreading at a rate he can’t keep up with. He explained how his son took him on to the roof of a towerblock once and pointed to various places in the city. Each of them unique with their own way of speaking. Each of them with a new accent or language he was yet to unlock.

I open my mouth here and there’s a semblance of understanding but definite difference in dialogue. I’ve realised that English as a way of speaking is a very loose thread holding us together. I’ve realised that English is the baitest language of them all. Travelling through the city I hear so many accents and languages and am slightly jealous of the conversations I’m locked out of because mine own is so accessible yet, it’s something I never hope to lose.