Back in November (and once again in the last week of the year), I listened to Terry Gross's interview with Keegan Michael Key and Jordan Peele. While touching on his experience growing up not really knowing his dad, he delved into how his voice has influenced his work:
When I introduce myself to people, I get asked about my Louisiana and Mississippi roots. Such questions like, "Is that where you grew up?", "Where's your family from?", "Where were you originally from?", and the like. Very similar to questions that minorities often get, based on their race [Disclaimer: not claiming to understand the minority experience, just drawing a correlation].
I get these questions usually after I have spoken for at least a few sentences. And I have a rehearsed little speech, depending on which tier of question it is. How I read a lot as a child, watched a fair amount of TV, didn't have a tee-ton of friends.
This is so very practiced, because I know exactly why I get asked this--because I don't sound like what people expect a Cajun or Bible Belt import to sound like. And I don't sound like a hybrid of the two cultures either. Sure, I elongate my e's and i's when talking quickly, and less often I have a more Louisiana inflection to my words, but mostly? Pretty neutral.
And while that says we expect the population from specific regions of the U.S. to sound like the extremes, it also makes me question my identity, and who I can claim. If others don't see me as part of a certain culture because of my voice, can I say I am part of that culture fully?
Yes and no. Obviously, I consider myself part of these two cultures, as I was an active participant in both of them. But I also can say no. I purposely say words certain ways, to distance myself. A big one for me growing up was saying the word "bayou" as "by-you" (the more generally accepted pronunciation) rather than the same way my peers did, as "by-o". I only used the latter pronunciation when specifically referring to a school in Clarksdale called Bayou Academy. (Had to, otherwise I would have gotten corrected every time)
It's strange. I adapted to speak a more neutral American accent to fit in with the population at large, but by doing so ostracized myself from those around me. I generalized my own identity.
Now, I think I speak more neutral than my family, but not ridiculously so. My brother, who lived in LA only 9 months before we moved to MS, chooses a word set more native to MS. My sister's word choice is influenced by her 7 years in Alabama. My mother speaks more LA than Cajun, as she's from the outskirts of Baton Rouge, but she still sounds Southern. My dad doesn't sound Cajun to me, much less so than his older brother Junior, who has lived outside LA the same amount of time as my dad but still has a clear Cajun inflection.
Speaking of my dad, when I was with the family at Christmas time, he got a business call. And his voice changed. It became more curt and jilted, more like someone who learned English as a second language. This is probably mostly to him adapting to his clientele's vocal patterns (most are Asian), but it was interesting to hear him code switch so quickly.
Last thought--my internal head voice is so much better than the one y'all hear, and I wish I could show you guys.
"...the world has wanted me to speak differently than I speak. You know, I speak like my mom; I speak like, you know, like the whitest white dude; I speak like a Def Comedy Jam comedian doing an impression of a white guy. (laughter) That's how I've, you know, sort of grown up. And I even remember, you know, when I was a kid that, you know, there was a, you know, every now and then you'd come upon somebody who would sort of question how I spoke, whether or not, you know, I was trying to be something I wasn't. It cannot be a coincidence that I decided to go into this career where my whole purpose is sort of altering the way I speak and experiencing these different characters, and I think maybe sort of proving in my soul that the way someone speaks has, you know, nothing to do with who they are. People have, you know, everybody has different accents, everyone has different affectations, everyone is still human." (Here's the link to the whole interview.)It was a part of the interview that struck home for me.
When I introduce myself to people, I get asked about my Louisiana and Mississippi roots. Such questions like, "Is that where you grew up?", "Where's your family from?", "Where were you originally from?", and the like. Very similar to questions that minorities often get, based on their race [Disclaimer: not claiming to understand the minority experience, just drawing a correlation].
I get these questions usually after I have spoken for at least a few sentences. And I have a rehearsed little speech, depending on which tier of question it is. How I read a lot as a child, watched a fair amount of TV, didn't have a tee-ton of friends.
This is so very practiced, because I know exactly why I get asked this--because I don't sound like what people expect a Cajun or Bible Belt import to sound like. And I don't sound like a hybrid of the two cultures either. Sure, I elongate my e's and i's when talking quickly, and less often I have a more Louisiana inflection to my words, but mostly? Pretty neutral.
And while that says we expect the population from specific regions of the U.S. to sound like the extremes, it also makes me question my identity, and who I can claim. If others don't see me as part of a certain culture because of my voice, can I say I am part of that culture fully?
Yes and no. Obviously, I consider myself part of these two cultures, as I was an active participant in both of them. But I also can say no. I purposely say words certain ways, to distance myself. A big one for me growing up was saying the word "bayou" as "by-you" (the more generally accepted pronunciation) rather than the same way my peers did, as "by-o". I only used the latter pronunciation when specifically referring to a school in Clarksdale called Bayou Academy. (Had to, otherwise I would have gotten corrected every time)
It's strange. I adapted to speak a more neutral American accent to fit in with the population at large, but by doing so ostracized myself from those around me. I generalized my own identity.
Now, I think I speak more neutral than my family, but not ridiculously so. My brother, who lived in LA only 9 months before we moved to MS, chooses a word set more native to MS. My sister's word choice is influenced by her 7 years in Alabama. My mother speaks more LA than Cajun, as she's from the outskirts of Baton Rouge, but she still sounds Southern. My dad doesn't sound Cajun to me, much less so than his older brother Junior, who has lived outside LA the same amount of time as my dad but still has a clear Cajun inflection.
Speaking of my dad, when I was with the family at Christmas time, he got a business call. And his voice changed. It became more curt and jilted, more like someone who learned English as a second language. This is probably mostly to him adapting to his clientele's vocal patterns (most are Asian), but it was interesting to hear him code switch so quickly.
Last thought--my internal head voice is so much better than the one y'all hear, and I wish I could show you guys.