thatthingthathappenedthatonetime

The park by my house is a busy place. On mornings when I make the effort to pull myself out of bed and run around the track there, I notice something (besides the picturesque hills in the distance and the overwhelming smell of urine that assaults my nostrils at the 1.2 mile marker.)  There are people everywhere, and they’re talking. Typically, people do talk, I’ll give you that. But a surprising amount of these people are speaking in languages other than English, and it’s not just one or two other languages. They are from all over the world, and some of the languages are ones that I can’t identify right off the bat. Seriously, it’s like the United Nations decided to have a meeting at the at the kiddy slide, and the dress code is Lululemon. And this is one, among many of the reasons that I LOVE LOS ANGELES. I am so in love with this city. I love all the things people love about it and enjoy not really minding all the things people hate about it. The diversity of the people here is staggeringly beautiful. This is also one of the reasons that I cannot understand why my accent elicits such dramatic, and sometimes entirely rude responses.

These dear Angelinos whom I love, CANNOT stop talking about my accent, to me. It would be fine if y’all would talk about my accent behind my back. I’m from the South. I get that. But you Angelinos say what you think to my FACE. The nerve.

I had the employee of the month at a hardware store openly mock me and tell me that he “almost laughed out loud at my accent.” After his public display of aggression, he was kind enough  to ask me where I was from. I was not kind enough to oblige.

I talked to a check-out guy at Trader Joe’s who told me he studied my accent in his acting class in college, as if I was some rare anthropologic specimen. Maybe he should have studied it a little harder.

A woman at the park told me, “Your accent is SOOOO thick.” Followed by, “Really? You’ve been here 2 years and it’s still THAT thick?! It is SOOOOO thick.” I heard you the first time, Sweetie.

I also think it’s a barrel of laughs when people who are experts on all things Southern want to play the “Let Me Guess Where You’re From and It Must Be Texas Since That’s the Only Southern State Game.” That game would be really fun if people would guess a state other than Texas.

I met another girl recently who just kept telling me “You have an accent.” I probably should have answered with something like, “You have a boogie…left nostril.” But that wasn’t true. She didn’t have a boogie and I do have an accent. But I know I have an accent, and most of the time people don’t know when they have boogies. And that’s why you tell them. You tell people they have boogies so they will take care of them. What am I supposed to do when you tell me I have an accent? Should I thank you for telling me, run to the bathroom, stay in there just long enough to take care of business, but not so long you begin to worry if you should call someone, and come out speaking like an anchorwoman?

Do people speak so freely about accents from other regions? Does a New Yorker in LA get questioned on how long he has been here? Can you imagine a cashier mocking a French girl to her face? Why does everyone think I am from TEXAS!? Y’all. I’m not ashamed of my accent. My accent is not me and I am not my accent, but it is part of who I am.  It reminds me of my roots. My husband might disavow me if I dropped my diphthongs and started sounding like someone from The Californians. And I could lose it if I wanted to. I took acting classes, too, you know. In fact, I was the Fox 22 Kid’s Club News anchor in 1992. My spot aired at 3:59, right before Duck Tales. Stick that in your reusable bag, Mr. Trader Joe’s Cashier.

As a public service, I thought I would list some appropriate responses when you encounter a Southerner in Los Angeles.

1. “Where are you from?” It’s okay to ask (after all, no one is actually from LA) but please don’t try to guess. It’s annoying. And please don’t guess Texas. I will cut you.

2. “I LOVE your accent!” Feel free to also compliment me on my personality, shoes, teeth, or general radiance.

3. “Your accent reminds me of my beloved Great Aunt Ethel from the south.” This may be surprising, but I’m actually happy to remind you of someone you loved, even if she was old. Just don’t tell me I look or smell like her too.

And that’s pretty much it. Don’t try to talk like me in front of me unless I at least know your last name and you’re equally comfortable with me impersonating you. Don’t assume that I wish I didn’t sound like this.  And lastly, mind your manners. Southerners have feelings, too.