Tongue Tied: A Brief Analysis of Accents

Written by Emilia Meenakshi Emmrich
Edited by Noor Khan
Cover Image by Linda Xu

I hear it all the time. Someone swears up and down that they can do a really great Australian accent, and they usually end up pulling out a vague hodgepodge of non-Canadian speech with the odd “mate” thrown in. At the very worst, this display might make you cringe, but most would agree that a Canadian putting on an Australian, or British, or surfer-dude accent is not particularly offensive. Even French, German, and Italian accents are usually considered fair game. However, in contrast, it is widely accepted that white Canadians imitating a stereotypical Chinese, Indian, or Nigerian accent is deeply racist and xenophobic. 

The power dynamics at play within pronunciation are difficult to ignore, and the racial and ethnic stereotypes that many of us grow up hearing are often closely tied to language. When a person speaks English with an accent that is associated with a country in the global south, certain negative assumptions are often made about their intelligence, personality, and ability, a stigma rarely faced by those with accents primarily associated with whiteness. A dominant group turning this real pain into a neat party trick is evidently not acceptable, and this take is a relatively common one. Still, there are many intersectional identities at play within the realm of accents that can make these moral hardlines slightly more messy. 

For example, there is the topic of accent imitation within racialised communities, a discussion which rarely ends in any sort of consensus. In my experience, such discussions have mainly arisen within the Indian diaspora. The scene usually plays out as follows: a young Indo-Canadian is joking about their parents, usually (but not always) complaining about or making fun of their family’s immigrant quirks. The young person in question switches to an Indian accent, sometimes including “broken” English, in order to mimic the irritating, amusing, or endearing things this family member has said. Sometimes, it is amongst other South Asians, and the audience elaborates with their own witty anecdotes. Other times, this is amongst white people, and the conversation ends with some members of the audience chortling hysterically and others confused on whether they should or shouldn’t laugh. 

In these situations, power dynamics are still at play, but they operate much more subtly. In all instances of accent imitation, there are three major groups: the ethnic group associated with the accent, the person performing the accent, and the audience listening to the performance. As we examine the relationship between these three parties, it becomes easier to unpack why accent imitation can become such a minefield. Firstly, there is the dynamic between the performer of the accent and the people whose accent is being performed. When a white person does an Indian, or Chinese, or Nigerian accent, this power is clearly skewed in the performer’s favour. Still, power and privilege are never so black and white, particularly within communities of colour. When accents are performed by members of a marginalised group, does the performer and the possessor of the accent being from the same community excuse the mimicry of a stigmatised accent? Of course, it’s important to be aware of context. A lot of the time, mimicking the accent of a parent or relative can be a way to feel part of a community. For a lot of immigrant children growing up in predominantly white environments, being able to recreate your home life with people who share similar experiences is a rare occurrence. For some, sharing impressions of their parents in an accent that they spent all of their childhood hearing just comes naturally. In such scenarios, the accent has a deeply personal meaning for all parties involved in the performance, and this relationship changes the power dynamics of the mimicry. 

However, the context for the performance of an accent for a predominantly white audience is decidedly different. Even with good intentions, there is an enormous chasm between racialised people laughing at jokes about racialised people and white people laughing at jokes about racialised people, a chasm carved out by centuries of colonialism and oppression. Even if the performance of an accent does not lead to hatred of a marginalised group, it can still impart the feeling that said accent is inherently comedic and ridiculous. On more than one occasion throughout my childhood, I have sat in a room with white people laughing at someone, South Asian or not, doing an Indian accent, and even when I did not have the vocabulary to describe it, the experience felt viscerally wrong. For people who have heard an accent that belongs to their parents, their aunties, or their earliest memories of home ridiculed, hearing that very same accent being turned into yet another joke can be painful, no matter who is delivering the punchline. 

As long as language elitism is a factor within racism, classism, and xenophobia, the enunciation of our every syllable will carry heavy baggage, no matter whose accent we are speaking in. Even within a privileged racialised group, those who speak with eastern or central European accents face ongoing stereotypes, and the mimicry of such accents can easily trivialise the xenophobia faced by these communities. It would also be remiss to ignore linguistic discrimination as a class issue, which disproportionately affects working class and immigrant communities who have been historically denied access to standardised education. As we move through societies shaped by institutional biases that preserve the power of certain groups, those biases will also code our language, and our language can be used as a tool to both reinforce and subvert these systems of power. Yet, despite the load they carry, conversations about accent imitation and discrimination are few and far between. When it comes to jokes, racism, and intersecting identities, a benign critique can easily come across as a personal attack, and when the shame, comfort, or humour found within accents are thrown into the mix, feelings are quick to get hurt. Despite the discomfort, at the end of the day, none of the changes necessary to address racism, classism, and xenophobia take place within awkward silences and quiet chortles left behind by accent impersonations, but only when we make the decision to start talking.