Thoughts on what we say, not how we speak

Warning: this post has been brewing for a while. I think I’ve calmed enough to write it, and I want to write it because I was reminded me of the need for it after a long chat with a friend just this week as I listened to her struggle through this.

To sum it up: listen to what people say, not how they say it.

If only it were that easy, right? Seems such an elementary concept.

I hear things here and there but what really “poked the bear” was a discussion I saw among speech pathologists. Now, I’m an SLP too. I went into this profession with a desire to help people communicate. To communicate to me means communicating in both obvious conventional ways and unconventional ways – whatever gets your needs and wants expressed to loved ones. A huge part of my job is to listen to HOW people talk to determine if it’s a disorder and if it is, whether or not it should be “fixed.” People in the public eye often want to sound a certain way so they may seek accent reduction. Businessmen who are immigrants from Asia may want accent reduction or articulation therapy to sound more like the standard American accent. Children may get teased for having a lisp so they have speech therapy. We look at a variety of reasons. Some of it is impacted by others’ perception and reaction.

I went through this myself. When I interviewed straight out of Mississippi in Los Angeles for a position to be a speech therapist, the interviewer said, “You sound nothing like the South. How did you lose your accent?” (Clearly: I was hired! A miracle worker! Accent tamer!) He didn’t hear the strong melodic extra-diphthong speech that preceded and followed that interview. I had turned it off. I worked so hard to turn it off because of all the ridicule and misperceptions of those that spoke with a Southern accent. You know the ones – “country” accent, hillbilly, etc. I wanted to fit in within my new city, Hollywood. I soon realized that I was in the melting pot of accents. Everyone was so different and it opened up a whole new world for me. Since then, I’ve worked to STOP turning it off. It’s me. I’m no less intelligent. It speaks to who I am. I am not ashamed nor should I be. Sometimes, I still do code-switch meaning I change my language and pronunciation based on my environment or communication partners. When I’m at home or with parents, I will use an “aint.” You might here a “she ain’t got no business.” I excel in grammar. You won’t hear this from me at work or with people with whom I’m less comfortable. My accent helps show the world who I am and where I come from.

I listened to what some speech pathologists were saying because the first comment pertained to me. One person has stated how annoying it was because a student had been shown a “picture” and he/she pronounced it as “pitcher” as in pitcher of tea. So many had a good chuckle over this. I realized that I do this. When in my natural element and comfort zone, I have put many “pitchers” on the wall or taken “pitchers” with my camera. I had never noticed. I was sort of offended because it made me more aware of how I was saying things so much that I wanted to say less because I was self evaluating everything that came out of my mouth. Wow, the power of one little statement of ridicule. It hurts. It’s unnecessary. It’s mean. I know the difference. I can hear it. I can write it. I KNOW this. Do you REALLY care if I correctly pronounce it every single time? It’s a dialectical difference. Then I heard more comment on their irritations: “aks” for ask and so on. I couldn’t believe it. We should be the most sympathetic ear. We should be focusing on the message and teaching others to do the same. I do understand career fatigue and finding humor, but I never find it in the true intents of people. Okay, maybe giggling at a child developing sounds and saying “f” for “tr” in truck and he repeats this request over and over. I get it, we have to laugh some times. I’m talking about accents in immigrants or dialectical differences in American English, the barely verbal, the ones with physical disabilities who speech production is impacted, etc.

My friend and I were discussing this over coffee because sadly she has heard a lot of this, specifically in America. Why is this the first country in which she has experienced this?

She is of Indian descent, raised in Malaysia, lived and worked in London and well-traveled. She’s the real deal, “well bred” as people might say, diverse, sweet, intelligent, globally knowledgeable, and my "educates-me-on-race" person. Why would you get sidetracked by her accent when she’s offering you so much more?!? Yes, I noticed it when I met her and I appreciate it. That’s it. I’ve moved on to pick her brain on so much more.

Listen to what she has heard (just a few things):

• You don’t sound like other Indians I know
• You don’t sound like Apu from the Simpsons!
• You don’t sound like Raj from Big Bang Theory!
• How did you learn to speak English so well?
• I didn’t even know they spoke English over there
• How is your accent so strong?
• I didn’t know they spoke English where you come from

From Latino friends:

• Oh, I didn't know you spoke English!
• You don't sound like my gardener.

*this is all after hearing questions spoken veeeeeeery slowly with much emotion and facial expression*

From a Vietnamese friend on a domestic flight as she sat in the exit row:

• Mam, do you speak English? (said very loudly, this gal was California born and raised)

How can people ask such things?

Often when confronted about this, instead of the "asker" listening and thinking through it, one continues on:

• But, I love your accent!
• Americans love accents.
• All the doctors/engineers/etc. I work with talk like that
• You are just being self conscious
• But......
• But.....
• But....

Don’t get me wrong- true curiosity is one thing. I initially asked her where she was from because I knew she must have immigrated from somewhere else. I ask her a million questions and she has grown accustomed to my direct approach to just getting to the root of the issue and ask. I think that’s step 1 in learning, finding out about cultures, and race reconciliation.

I think that we have to just simply get back to LISTENING. Listen to the message being conveyed or spoken. We can’t get sidetracked by the delivery. So the waitress asks you if you want “flied lice?” You know she means fried rice so just let her know if you want a bowl or not. (Funny how so many say immigrants people should speak English when they come to this country….do they really mean speak English perfectly?). One of the kids at the school or other parent wants to “aks” you a question? Just say “of course” and listen to the question. Talk first without assuming the other person needs you to speak slower or more exaggeratedly. Make no assumptions and start the conversation....they will let you know if they need more assistance. Let them be the ones to ask. I loved this in South Africa when I visited, people automatically spoke to me in Afrikaans in public. I just said, "Oh I speak English" (and then my Americanness was obvious). They just proceeded in English - a simple easy exchange. 

In the off chance someone actually speaks up and lets you know that they feel hurt or offended, stop and listen first. There's no need to defend. They've probably already heard anything you would say. Think on the words. Take them in. Let yourself be offended for being reprimanded or questioned and feel that burn. Feel it? That's how they feel. Let it change you for the better and thank them for actually speaking out. That will be rare - most will keep this hurt internalized.

This isn't about "people getting too offended easily" or "them assuming I mean to be offensive/harmful in my question" or "it's all in their head." I know this because I've felt it and experienced it often as a born & bred Southern American WASP. I know friends have too. It's that assumption you see in others after you say something. I'm asking why I DO have that accent and other times when code switching why I DON'T sound like Mississippi. It always seems to be accompanied by a chuckle. 

One of my favorite TED talks is by Jamila Lysicott and titled “3 ways to speak English.” The link is here so mosey on over there and listen when you get a chance.

Communication is essential for life and happiness and learning. Let’s make sure we make we keep the conversation going and not needlessly shut it down. Focus on content and less on mechanics. For us that are speech pathologists, we do focus on the mechanics sometimes, but I know we prioritize the process and are trained to differentiate between disorders versus differences.

Love,

Danielle 

Thoughts on growing and learning (as a White person)

There’s so much going on the world right now, isn’t there? Most times, I don’t even know where to start to begin to process it. I often shoot my friend Jody an email and that helps because I know she wonders too and I know that we can have an uncomfortable conversation [Thanks Jody!]. I'm learning so much about what stems from misunderstanding and imposing our thoughts, cultures, and religions on others. 

I grew up in a small rural town in South Mississippi. I would not trade this for anything. I loved it. It was so valuable in forming my solid foundation. It was simple, yet complicated I would later learn, but rich.

Over the past 10 years, I’ve had Asian and Latina friends ask me several times how I became to be who I am and “not like many white people.” [I'm not offended by their generalization because I know it comes from experiences they have had, I'm not here to argue it or reduce it] Although I have a lot to learn, I’m proud of who I have become and those questions at least let me know I’m on the right track and to “keep on keeping on.” I hope you can say that too? I look back and who I am today is a smattering of experiences and discomfort fueled by curiosity and a yearning to be connected in the world.

I moved to California in 2001. I had never been so far away from home. The farthest I had gone was Mobile, a whopping 45 minutes away. I initially moved to Hollywood (later moving to Orange County). It was exhilarating and overwhelming to my senses. I loved it. I was a fish out of water but soon found my new fish bowl. Or maybe I was more of a goldfish in the Pacific Ocean? I was soon surrounded by all kinds of “fish” and it unlocked this curiosity in me that had never before been exposed. I fell in love with the diversity, but I was also shaken by it. All of my world views and perspectives were suddenly challenged – both internally and externally. All of the absolutes (and many “those peoples”) were confronted.

I made a ton of mistakes as I learned to access my new world. I had to figure out how to satisfy this desire to learn more about people without offending them in the same breath. I wanted to know everything about them. I wanted to know their stories. A comfort in the discomfort began to develop as each story chipped away at ideals that I had held about things and people and countries and systems and EVERYTHING. I appreciated those who did not get offended as I misspoke and misasked (“What are you?” or "Which Asian are you?"– makes you cringe right, those who are so PC? I know, me too). I made all the typical “white people mistakes” as they call it out of a genuine interest to know others.

Side note: I think we should spend less time guffawing at the way people ask questions sometimes and focus on the reason they are asking – when they WANT to know you…answer and politely teach the better way of asking. Race discussions can only get better when we can educate one another and not be scared to ask a question because it may be the wrong way to ask. I’m thankful for patient friends. I didn’t and never will have that perspective of other races and cultures. We “white people” would certainly ask in the most “politically correct way of the moment” if we knew how.

My view of immigrants changed as I sat at the feet of a friend and listened to her stories of what she fled from in her native country and how hard she has worked since landing here to become a citizen get an education and give back to this country. I served in Boise Idaho with Create Common Good who assists refugees who are placed in the United States. I saw how hard they worked to acclimate quickly, within a ridiculous time frame, to learn skills and the language in order to secure a minimum wage job (mind you, many who were “comfortable” in their own countries before war).

I learned a lot through my own immigration story with Luba. I learned what it is like on the “other side” with legal immigration. It’s difficult even when you do everything correctly, and even as the “White middle class American.”

I saw the hardship as I recycled weekly – me saving for adoption and others recycling to make ends meet, to put food on their families’ tables. Many of them were far beyond their “working years.” I made a point to look around and see people. 

I found a church where I was the minority. It was primarily Asian American - Korean and Chinese with a spackling of other nationalities. I stuck out there (there were less than 10 white people I think when I started, and that's out of hundreds) but loved it. I was nurtured there and grew so much. I was gently led for over 10 years by Asian pastors, friends and prayer warriors.

My sister’s husband is Vietnamese. I’ve learned so much from him and his family – his family who took me in when they married as if I were their own. What a gift to hear immigration stories first hand – leaving Vietnam, settling, growing, being what you are today. Again, I had only known Vietnam through minimal stories of the war. We as a country don’t really talk about Vietnam, still.

I took a trip to South Africa, with Africa being a continent I never wanted to visit. It wrongly represented a personal painful history. The people and landscape of that country has taught me the most about myself, about God, about humanity, sacrifice and love. I still dream of my trips. I can see it vividly. I can smell it. It is where I met my husband and where my new family lives.

Through providing therapy services, I have been in many homes of many cultures, but one of my favorite ones was a family of Islamic faith. In public, I first noticed the differences. At home, I couldn’t tell where I ended and they began. The mother was free to walk around dressed just as I was. Her husband was one of the kindest, and most hilarious, men I have ever known. Neither were radical, but like me, they clung to their faith to navigate and do right in this world. They were equally distraught of over radical faith and acts of terror. I remember them when I watch the news or read comments by Americans who disregard another religion because of a minority of radicals. What if people judged me by those Westboro Church beings?

I'm partial to everyone having equal human rights whether I agree or disagree with their decisions. The reason that drives it home? Not too many years ago, my marriage would have been illegal in the United States. I cannot even imagine. It makes no sense. We have the gift of hindsight to see these things. I never want to look back with that same gift and realize I was part of something that violated another's rights because I held so tightly to my own as if they would have changed. 

I began to think about the lives of young African American boys as I felt called to one day adopt a young black male. I had never been “against” anything in particular or argued the plight but I had simply never thought of it. It never affected me directly, or so I thought. That is, until it became personal. I began to learn of the safety talks men have with their sons and the fear that haunts mothers (both adoptive White and African American mothers) when their young Black sons are out at night. People don’t just make this up. To my white friends with all white families, it is real. The media is the media and that’s a blog for another day, but the line of truth that there is an issue today runs through the story somewhere. I knew it was real when Luba came and we lived in Huntington Beach, a city with a sordid past with race. He wanted to walk to CVS a block away to pick up a few things at night. Without understanding fully, I had a visceral response to him walking out the door. I couldn’t reconcile it. I worried the entire time he was gone. That made it more real. If I had this feeling, what is it like for those who live this every day? The African American mom who sends her young teen out into the streets hoping that there are no assumptions or miscommunications that night if he gets pulled over. I learned that i can't wait until issues directly affect me - it'll be too late. 

As I’ve met so many with accents and dialects unlike my own, I’ve learned to listen to the message. Focus on WHAT they are saying and not HOW they say it. Double negatives? No problem. Dropped off that final –s to mark a plural? No worries. It’s most important that we talk and convey the message and listen.

Every day in my marriage presents a learning experience. I think marriage is a hard hard hard road when you are very similar. Throw in two personalities, experiences, cultures, countries of origins, and you can easily make quite a cocktail!

I want to continue to learn. How do you learn? How do you challenge yourself?

For me, I have watched a ton of TED talks in addition to asking others their stories. It’s the easiest thing to do to listen to another person tell his or her story. I try to choose one by people with the focus on storytelling or race. I also read my Bible. Loving others and loving your neighbor (which doesn’t mean the ones you like or are like you) are mandated in that good leather bound book. Jesus loved, without exclusions or clauses. His message was simple and clear. 

I love this quote by Stephen R. Covey:

Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.

In my words, I would add: with the intent to reply, to defend, to argue, to correct.

Maybe try some of my favorites and listen to the TED talk or podcast with the intent of listening. Do not say anything. Do not argue or let those thoughts enter in. just listen. Breathe and listen.

Try some of my favorites - I promise you will reap some wisdom or be enlightened if you listen: [email me if you listen to any - would love to know your thoughts!]

TED talks:

Zak Ebrahim, I Am the Son of a Terrorist

Chimamanda Ngozi, Adichie, The Danger of a Single Story

Monica Lewinsky, The Price of Shame

Jamla Lyiscott, 3 Ways to Speak English

Mellody Hobson, Color Blind or Color Brave

Podcast:

On Being with Krista Tipett, John A. Powell: Opening theQuestion of Race to the Question of Belonging

*transcript available if you’d rather….

My favorite line in all of this is: “Whiteness is like the invisible presence of the narrator in a story told from the third person point of view.”

 Happy learning!

With love,

Danielle