![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Feb. 20th, 2004 12:59 pm
You have got to show me
I couldn't help myself; I finally succumbed to the latest dialect quiz that's sweeping the nation. Problems arose with the very first question, which attempts to determine your pronunciation of aunt based on which of three words it "rhymes with". One of these words is caught, which left me thinking, Are there actually people who say "aught" for "aunt"? Later questions make it clear that the author uses "rhymes with" to mean "contains the same vowel as". Very, very sloppy!
The result confirms what I've long suspected: That my speech has taken on more "Southern" characteristics as a result of living in the North. Sounds counterintuitive, doesn't it? But the extent to which one adopts an accent is strongly correlated with the extent to which one (consciously or unconsciously) identifies with its speakers. Despite 16 years in this city, I still don't think of myself as a Chicagoan; I'm a St. Louisan living in exile. To maintain this identity, I avoid a lot of localisms and strive to remember the folksy terms my parents and relatives used. Sometimes, I think, this leads to overcorrections, as I start saying things they never did (like "y'all").
I still bristle whenever anyone calls St. Louis "the South". In reality, it's an interesting transitional zone. Garreau calls it an outpost of The Foundry on the border between The Breadbasket and Dixie. Linguistically, it's more closely allied to the urban centres of northern Ohio than those of Iowa or Kentucky. It may be below the Bourbon Line but it's definitely north of the Sweet Tea Line.
The result confirms what I've long suspected: That my speech has taken on more "Southern" characteristics as a result of living in the North. Sounds counterintuitive, doesn't it? But the extent to which one adopts an accent is strongly correlated with the extent to which one (consciously or unconsciously) identifies with its speakers. Despite 16 years in this city, I still don't think of myself as a Chicagoan; I'm a St. Louisan living in exile. To maintain this identity, I avoid a lot of localisms and strive to remember the folksy terms my parents and relatives used. Sometimes, I think, this leads to overcorrections, as I start saying things they never did (like "y'all").
I still bristle whenever anyone calls St. Louis "the South". In reality, it's an interesting transitional zone. Garreau calls it an outpost of The Foundry on the border between The Breadbasket and Dixie. Linguistically, it's more closely allied to the urban centres of northern Ohio than those of Iowa or Kentucky. It may be below the Bourbon Line but it's definitely north of the Sweet Tea Line.