I grew up in the Western United States, and I consider the cot-caught merger to be present in my speech. I have visited the East Coast a few times, but it has never occurred to me to adjust my speech to reflect the vowel distinction. One reason to do so might be to receive better service, under the assumption that people will treat customers or patrons better who are perceived to be locals. It is precisely for this reason, however, that I have never tried. To modify my speech for such a purpose feels dishonest; I mentally distinguish between my own language and language of the "other."
As always, of course, such a distinction is very ambiguous. This brings up the question of foreign loan words. Many English speakers use foreign words to sound more culturally aware, exotifying the other to display a wider breadth of knowledge. Think about Starbucks using grande and venti for their drink sizes. I'm going to speak primarily about Japanese because that's where I have the most experience, but I believe what I'm saying is widely applicable to many languages.
Certain elements of Japanese culture are relatively familiar in mainstream Western culture. Sushi and karaoke, for example, are two words I can write with reasonable confidence that most readers will understand. Frequent sushi diners might extend that vocabulary to their favorites, perhaps knowing a piece of tuna as maguro and a cucumber roll as kappamaki. People may display this knowledge with pride, as it is a reflection of their experience, and other people may applaud them accordingly.
On the other hand, take my dad. Japanese was his first language, and he always pronounces karaoke "correctly" as [kɑɾɑokɛ] as opposed to the Westernized [kæɹioʊki]. In casual contexts, this accurate-to-Japanese pronunciation often sounds overly pedantic; it tends to come across as a judgmental correction of other people's ignorant pronunciation. In the context of American college students chatting at their home campus, then, what is the most appropriate pronunciation? Does this change if the same people are at a Japanese campus? I find myself code-switching with this particular word all the time, but I always feel guilty when I do.
Of course, while we ponder how to integrate Japanese into English, the opposite question is being asked on the other side of the Pacific. The Agency for Cultural Affairs recently released their annual report on Japanese usage, and the report includes, for example, the claim that 49.4% of people use the word パニクる [pɑnikuɾu] to mean "to panic." Anecdotally, while studying abroad in Japan this past spring, I discovered that I could sometimes convey my thoughts by speaking English words in a Japanese accent even if the same English words without the accent garnered blank looks. Was I being offensive? I was never quite sure. Barrelling forward with my usual English felt inconsiderate, since it was clearly not getting me anywhere. Was the Japanese accent taking an extra step, showing that slight extra effort to meet my conversation partner halfway?
I believe it comes down to how comfortable I as a speaker feel in the clothing of my own language. Certainly, some words like [pɑnikuɾu] are even more widespread, and there is no oddity in using it at all. The concern is ultimately who is "local" enough to have the legitimacy to speak a certain way, and, as with the [kɑɾɑokɛ]/[kæɹioʊki] switch, what is appropriate in a given context. This decision is no more unusual than deciding whether a business suit or a T-shirt is more appropriate depending on the day's events: each has its own place.
What you said about pronouncing English words with a Japanese accent was really interesting to me, as I’ve had similar experiences with Spanish. When talking to Colombian friends (native Spanish speakers, some who spoke English, some who didn’t), if they’d ask what college I was going to start studying at, I’d say “Stanford” [stænfɹ̩d], and they wouldn’t recognize the name. Weeks later, we’d be having some other conversation and I’d write down the word “Stanford” for one reason or other, and on several occasions I had friends ask me why I hadn’t told them I was studying at “[ɜstanfor],” and they’d know exactly what school I was talking about. Even though the pronunciation wasn’t that drastically different, they didn’t understand the typical SAE pronunciation of the word “Stanford.” And this is just one example of many.
ReplyDeleteYour post seems to be describing a more subtle form of prescriptive grammar. The existence of prescriptive rules allows a speaker of a nonstandard dialect to explicitly learn the rules of the standard dialect and employ them in appropriate social circumstances (Language Files, p. 16) Your mental distinction between your own language and the language of the "other" and choosing not to modify your speech to avoid being dishonest is, in my opinion, a quintessential example of your cognition of prescriptive grammar. My first reaction to this is, "How cool! You're focusing on communicating and not conforming." My second reaction, is more of a question, "what if?" For the most part, most people cannot consciously reconfigure their pronunciation of caught vs cot without a bit of sustained effort. But, when using foreign words like croissant, karaoke and grande, the majority of Americans know how to pronounce these words with their respective French, Japanese and Spanish accents. Yet we choose not to. What if, however, we were followed you dad's karaoke example and pronounced these words like native speakers? This question, I feel, is a real non-starter. The reality is, prescriptive grammar teaches us that you and your dad are rebels to be admired. Speaking foreign words with American accents is what is prescribed. To roll the "r" is grande would draw stares most would care not endure. While in Paris last summer I ordered a Big Mac at a local McDonald's in a very French accent. Why? Because the week before when I used an American accent I got a strange look. Prescriptive grammar rules rule. Only the truly strong are able defy the rules and truly go their own way.
ReplyDeleteI think your idea of needing "local qualifications" to speak in a certain way brings up a very interesting social construct. Intuitively, we would think that communities would find it favorable that other people learn their local modes fo communication so that they do not need to adapt. However, "appropriating" the modes of communication, whether in be AAVE or "Engrish", as many commentators of the phenomenon have described, is generally viewed as unacceptable when done unneccessarily. I think, though, your example represented an almost classical thought experiment of utility, i.e., speaking "Engrish", vs. adherance to the general social norm of refraining from appropriating accents that one does not have a native relationship with.
ReplyDeleteYour final analogy, comparing accents to clothes, nicely has the implications, as you point out, of "there's a time and a place". I can adopt an accent, like I would put on a costume, for a theatrical performance, or speak in a certain way, as I would dress in a certain way, to get a message across. But, perhaps most importantly, in a perfect world, we'd be able to wear the clothes that we like, and speak however we're most comfortable, without being judged.