My Accent is Weird, Part 1

A few weeks ago, I was in an organic market in town buying ingredients to make a red velvet cake. I had my shopping list with all the items written out in French so I could find them easily. I found everything except the buttermilk. I had written two possible French words for this one, so I confidently went up to the cashier and asked where the buttermilk was.

She stared at me blankly. I tried the other word. No good. As I was about to end the conversation, she signaled one of her coworkers to come over, saying, “Je ne parle pas anglais.” 

Mortified, I quickly paid for the rest of my stuff and left. I haven’t gone back since.

***

Many French people have told me that I speak very good French, and I’m always genuinely flattered by it. When someone makes a concerted effort to not just speak their language, but to speak it well, the French appreciate it.

However, I have never made it through more than a minute of conversation with a new French acquaintance without that person asking, “Where are you from?” or saying, in true matter-of-fact French fashion, “You have an accent.”

As an avid traveler, I’m constantly worried about falling into the “obnoxious American tourist” stereotype. I feel like I always have to prove that I’m trying to speak the language well and learn about the culture and not just ask where the nearest McDonald’s is.

It’s probably all in my head, but I hate the sound of my northeastern U.S. accent trying to finagle its way around all those beautiful French vowels and not-so-beautiful nasal vowels. It’s even worse when I make a grammar-related faux pas.

Last night, I walked home with two French friends from a meeting at the aumônerie. It was very cold and the wind blew my hood right off. What I should have said was, La capuche ne m’aide pas,” or “This hood isn’t helping me.” What I said was, Le capuche ne m’aide pas,” using the masculine instead of the feminine pronoun.

I quickly corrected myself, but one friend caught the error, laughed, and said, “It’s cute. It makes you charming.”

UGH.

I don’t think that’s the right response to a compliment, but instead of feeling flattered, I was frustrated that I had accidentally let my American freak flag fly again. Why? Is it because Americans have a bad reputation as tourists? Or do accents have the same effect as listening to a recording of your own voice?

Since then, I’ve been trying to answer the age-old question: why are foreign accents so attractive? I’m not just talking about people with accents being sexually attractive; admit it, even an accent you find grating or annoying catches your attention at first. The best answer I can come up with is that it’s an immediate conversation starter. Humans are curious beings. When someone speaks differently than you, you automatically ask yourself, “How did this person learn to speak like that? Where are they from? What’s their story?” Plus, you avoid the awkward moment of thinking of a conversation topic, because it’s ringing in your ears.

So if my American accent speaking French is “cute” and “charming,” why do I resent it so much? Perhaps it’s because I’m trying to assimilate as much as possible into the French culture, and my accent is one thing that immediately gives me away as not French. So much of our identity is engrained in the organs that allow us to speak, including the language centers of the brain. Even if I lived in France for the next 40 years and learned to speak perfect French, I might never lose that certain American something in my voice that the French would be sure to notice. Sometimes I feel like people hear my accent and not the words I’m speaking, or they see an American rather than me, Vicky.

It’s true that it takes some getting used to when you’re not familiar with a regional accent. But next time you meet someone with a different accent than you, I’d encourage you to listen carefully to their words, not just hear their voice. An accent is just a small part of a person’s identity. Differences should be celebrated, not fetishized.

Oh yeah, for the record, a sexy accent doesn’t necessarily indicate that this person is boyfriend/girlfriend material.

Good. Glad that message rang loud and clear.

À bientôt!

– Vicky

Question: Why do you think people find different accents attractive? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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4 thoughts on “My Accent is Weird, Part 1

  1. Hi Vicky!
    I really enjoyed your post. It was thought provoking and I liked the anecdotes.
    I’ll answer your question posed first: I think people find accents different than their own attractive because, well, it’s different. A lot of times a foreign accent means a new culture, new food, new things to learn in general. Then there are expressions – the ones the person with the accent attempts to use in English as well as the ones they bring from their native language. It’s interesting how they try to “fit in” by using slang. I think the people who do lean towards the fetishization of accents are probably the same people that have traveled minimally and if they did travel, they’d most likely fall into the stereotype American tourist.

    What I’m curious about is why you think your accent is unattractive. I think you should accept it because it’s part of who you are – celebrate it. I commend you for diving into the French language and culture to show you’re attempting to embrace their culture rather than only keep your American culture, but I don’t think you should believe your accent is unattractive. I’ve found through my travels that having an American accent brings a lot of conversation between yourself and the people you meet – especially if they have not been to America or have only been to New York City.

    Like

    • Thank you so much for your comment, Ashley! Slang is one of the coolest parts of learning a language. I really like picking up French slang.

      And thank you for your words of encouragement. I definitely agree that having an American accent does attract many interesting people and conversations. And since I grew up 45 minutes away from New York City, I get a lot of questions about that. Since I posted this, I’ve been trying to to appreciate my accent instead of getting frustrated with myself for having one. I think I’m going to write a follow-up post to this one, so stay tuned!

      Like

  2. Pingback: Learning to Love the American (My Accent is Weird, Part 2) | Vicky La France

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