The first question that my international students ask me on their first day of class is how to go about losing their foreign accents and adapting to a more American one. To this I often ask them as to why would they want to change something that signifies who they are. The accent, like their name, and often their looks, is an integral part of their identity which if lost, implies losing a part of themselves. To this they answer that their accent somehow separates them from the others, or worse still brands them as the ‘other’, the foreign, the ‘outsider’ or in more legalized terms, the alien.

While not going into the antiquated notions of legal terminology, I myself have encountered incidents whereby the accent becomes a differentiator. An accent different from the native one seeks to alienate us. It points to the dilemma of the perennial outsider who, despite living for decades in a country, is never native enough to be considered American. The question is complicated even more so because of the American notion. If it were any other country, maybe the implications would have been different but to belong to the hallowed halls of fame that United Stated sanctions to a privileged few is just that — a privilege.

Most immigrants respect that privilege because they have often escaped from oppressive social and religious orders, countries with crippled economies that don’t allow potential for growth for young people, inability to follow creative dreams because of lack of support from a corrupt government and most often, seeking an identity thy having been asking for from the time they are born.

Among my many international students, a floating population of culture and ideals and aspirations, talented French singers, disillusioned Venezuelan doctors, hungry fashion designers or shy and supremely deft Japanese hairstylists, was a Swiss-French boy, Stevan. Born in Switzerland to a Portuguese White father, and Afro-Brazilian mother of Angolan roots, he felt divorced from his country of birth. An avid speaker of French, equally proficient in Portuguese, German and Spanish, his identity was a question he could never resolve. He confessed to me in the course of his presentations and class discussions that he never felt at home in Switzerland, a land beautiful and rich but not warm enough to accept a kid of mixed coloring. Stevan came to America looking for a sense of belonging and found it in an unlikely Dominican neighborhood of upper west side Spanish Harlem. His looks most closely resembled a Spanish avatar, and here he found a home and a family he was looking for.

In New York, where foreigners are welcome with alacrity to an extent, where being ‘foreign’ is exotic and special, bringing with it skills and abilities that define and refine us, it is not a negative question.

Yet, for many ESL students looking to learn American English in New York City, their first order of business is to find a teacher who is a native American speaker. But, my question is who is a Native American? I suppose the most conclusive definition would be someone born and raised in United States. But, what if such a person has been a world traveler has motley of different accents? Would his place of birth still make him a native speaker?

Going by the most correct definition, Native American refers to the former Red Indians, the original inhabitants of a the soil which was programmed and packaged as the New World after the coming of the Europeans. But, the land was not new but very much lived in and a home to an ancient civilization, that wanted to keep it that way untouched by the ravages of a swift-changing society. Native Americans, by that definition in the present day, are an extinct species, a cross between ancient heritages that have lost its meaning and place in more ways than one and a pseudo-modern community surviving by the ways in which a modern American government and society would allow them. While many high-school curriculum has incorporated their history into their syllabi, most wish to disregard them.

The funny part is, within the United States there are accents there are considered more desirable than others. Some accents seduce you and draw you nearer while some, more cold and brusque, are for the sole purpose of keeping others at bay. My international students themselves present a volley of different choices, some more open than the others. They want to assimilate themselves quickly and changing their accent is the surest and easiest way to do so. They flinch when others ask them the question, “Where are you from?” something that is meant to suggest you aren’t from the one of us. The moment they open their mouth, it becomes clear that they are foreign, a connotation that is more often than not negative.

Why so? Is it simply because belonging to America is still one of the most prized possessions of an individual’s lifetime? Does it make one’s life easier? Does it make him more comfortable where in a crowded room of every color and flavor, people still keep to their corners?

While the color question apart, even before one dares to speak, his features are dead giveaway. A shade lighter or darker, a manner askance, often jumps back to centuries of old prejudice, or stereotypes. We like to believe that in New York City said to truly celebrate difference, we are above and beyond such narrow boundaries. We love our melee of outsiders, each bringing with them a different taste enhancing and developing our already developed world. Yet, it is not a question of the subway or the street but inside corporate offices of crisp shirts and coats without a slight wrinkle, how much does this difference penetrate and how far is it welcomed?

As a teacher, we are considered the bohemian lot who take pride in their ability to morph between patterns and behaviors. We often blur the boundaries while taking it upon ourselves to impose it on others. Having known that the English language is a great distinguishing factor still and the manner of its speaking inflicts invisible lines and distinctions, I often in my deviations from regular classes, ask my students how important they consider their accents to be?

I recall an essay by Aldous Huxley who in his typical Englishman’s agility of enforcing dictum states that accents have no linguistic purpose. They serve to delineate classes in a more visible essence, but have little practical purpose. It is important for a speaker to be articulate and be understood with clarity; making a grand impression was simply a bonus. But, language is not disparate from its social and political influences, it sets up standards and hence, when a foreign student comes in, he wants to be a part of this charmed circle.

With the effusive popularity of hip hop, Hollywood and street jargon the need to inculcate Americanisms becomes stronger. But, rather than true emulation, what is possible in a short span of time is blind mimicking of tones, the subtle shades. True understanding of the language is lost and often suffers a dissonance. Though one may argue that language is essentially a people’s tool, to be wielded according to its means and purposes, it also must serve a higher aim.

Language, beyond its superfluous considerations without which it cannot forge a deeper human connect, should often purify itself even in the hands of its so-called foreign ascendants. We must elevate it to more profound emotional ties, where it speaks the true tongue of life, native or foreign. When it blurs these boundaries between the foreignness of language and a more standardized format as enforced by a board of wizened old men, can it achieve it more real connotations with life.