What Language is He Speaking?
Amy Irby-Shasanmi, IU Indianapolis, Indiana, USA
“What language is he speaking?” That’s what I heard after my father had finished asking two young women for directions to my dormitory. I thought, “Surely she isn’t talking about my father.” The only language he reads, writes, understands, and/or speaks is English. My dad is originally from South Carolina. He was raised on a farm. He is the descendant of people who were enslaved. He does not know what country his ancestors come from, let alone, what their native language was. So, to me, there could be no mistake that my dad was speaking English. This incident occurred when my parents and I had driven up from our home state of Georgia to Indiana so that I could attend my college’s new student orientation week. My dad had rolled down the window and asked two Black female students (whom I later came to learn were both Nigerian Americans) where my dormitory was located.
That incident occurred over two decades ago and it still seems a bit strange to think that someone would mistake my dad’s spoken language for something other than English, but I do realize now that my father’s style of speech may be unusual for some. My dad does indeed speak English; but if more description is applied to his speech, one might call his vernacular Black Accented English. Honestly, however, his language and vernacular is more complex than that description. His dialect is a mixture of Black Accented English, Southern American English, and what I would call, “country talk” (henceforth termed by me as Countrified English). His language is what I’d call a creole dialect. Creole languages are defined as hybrid languages that infuse linguistic influences from various places. So too, my father’s dialect is an eclectic mixture of southern, Black, and country influences, but it also reflects his social position as a Black man living in the American South before the Civil Right Era. (At 76 years old, my dad always attended segregated schools as segregation was the law when he attended high school.) It is a sound that I’m so familiar with that I hardly even recognize it as being different than Standard American English, though it truly is.
His language is something I fully understand and am proficient in speaking (though I would not say I am fluent in it). I regret to say that I tried hard subconsciously to erase all traces of this vernacular from my own speech as I acquired more education, moved from the South to the Midwest, and began to speak before professional audiences. I guess I was rather successful at doing so because just last year I was told that I sound like a middle-class Black woman, but that was not always the case.
Today, as a university (sociology) professor, I speak in front of people in classrooms and at conferences regularly. But, when I was in college, I would sit in my college courses, and I almost never spoke. Language was never an issue for me prior to attending college. As a child and teen, I had spoken in several oratorical competitions, and I often spoke in front of the congregation at church. Needless to say, I felt quite comfortable engaging in public speaking. However, I almost never spoke in my college courses. The reason I never spoke in my college classes was because I was so afraid of confirming (to my mostly white) classmates the stereotype that Black people are an inarticulate people (Porcher, 2021). Sociology would later teach me the term “stereotype threat” which was coined and defined by a social psychologist. Stereotype threat is when a person underperforms because of fear of fulfilling a stereotype about a social group to which they belong (Steele, 1997). And, in my mostly all-White college classrooms in the Midwest, stereotype threat plagued me deeply. As a student, I read everything that was assigned, never missed a single class, and had reflected on the material, but I was too scared to speak, worried that someone might think, “What language is she speaking?”
Today, there is much for me to reflect upon as I share the story of my father and my personal one. There are also questions that should be asked of others and of myself. An important question is, what is gained and what is lost when dialects disappear or become marginalized and are seen as less than? Research demonstrates that dialects, especially Black Accented English can be a liability rather than an asset when seeking employment (Carlson & McHenry, 2006) and health care services (Leech, Irby-Shasanmi & Mitchell, 2019). So again, I ask, what is the value of preserving vernacular? Well, when my father’s dialect disappears with each successive generation, the history and culture of a place becomes lost. And when history and culture is lost, people often experience a sense of loss. In my dad’s dialect, words are not a performance, instead words are easy and slow and often truncated to such a degree that the words barely resemble the sound of the original word. My dad’s mixture of southern, Black, and countrified English is safe and carries no judgement, unlike Standard American English. There are also tangible benefits to preserving and using this dialect, particularly for those who are from and work with marginalized communities (e.g., researchers, community engaged workers). My sister told me that someone said to her that this ability to speak the dialect of a marginalized community is somewhat of a superpower. Merely languaging in this way almost instantly connects you with a person who shares aspects of your dialect. They feel a bit safer with you, and rapport is made more quickly.
So now the question is, how do we encourage people to feel free to speak in a vernacular that they are most comfortable? I’ll share how one of my college professors did it and how I attempt to do it with the college students that I teach. As aforementioned, I almost never spoke in my college courses, but in one course I was one of the two most verbal students in the classroom. The professor for the class was Black woman and that alone did aid in putting me at ease, but what made me participate every class period, was after she pulled me aside earlier on in the semester. I don’t remember exactly what she said, but she conveyed to me that she would not accept mediocracy from me in her classroom and with that, I rose to the occasion. She knew I could do better, and I knew I could too. In her class (which I took my final semester as an undergraduate), I found my voice again. In her class, I didn’t fear confirming that stereotype that Black people are inarticulate. It wasn’t my vernacular that mattered, but instead the knowledge I possessed and I think my classmates realized this too.
Today as a college professor, I think of myself when I see students who will never voluntarily participate in class. I tell them my own story (the one I just shared), my struggle with speaking. When any of my students participate in class, I provide immediate, verbal and positive feedback. I gently push students out of their comfort zone and call on them to express their thoughts in a non-intimidating way. For example, rather than asking quieter students, “What is the answer to this?” I strategically ask quieter students, less intimidating questions such as, “Tell me what stood out to you from the video we just watched.” I also usually let them know about a minute beforehand that I’m going to ask them for their thoughts, that way they have the chance to gather their thoughts and perhaps, first joint down what they plan to say. My hope is that these students become confident in speaking and like me, they too find their voice, regardless of their accents, their languages, or their dialect. My hope is that they realize that their vernacular is a part of their history and identity and carries with it funds of knowledge that should be preserved, has value, and should not be altered.
References
Carlson, H. K., & McHenry, M. A. (2006). Effect of Accent and Dialect on Employability. Journal of Employment Counseling, 43(2), 70–81.
Leech, T., Irby-Shasanmi, A., & Mitchell, A. L. (2019). "Are you accepting new patients?" A pilot field experiment on telephone-based gatekeeping and Black patients' access to pediatric care. Health services research, 54 Suppl 1(Suppl 1), 234–242.
Porcher, K. (2021). Don’t talk about it, be about it: Centering Blackness in a grammar and language English education course. Contemporary Issues in Technology and Teacher Education, 21(2), 266-296.
Steele, C. M. (1997). A threat in the air: How stereotypes shape intellectual identity and performance. American Psychologist, 52(6), 613–629.
Dr. Amy Shasanmi is an Assistant Professor of Sociology at IUPUI where she teaches courses on medical sociology, health disparities, social problems, and the sociology of mental health and illness. Dr. Shasanmi explores the ways in which racism and discrimination get “under the skin” and impact one’s physical and mental health. She has published research in journals such as Ethnicity and Health, Health Services Research, Research on Aging, and Socius.