This week, I was reminded of my accent. Though I am sure the person did not have malicious intent, it still created a sense of inadequacy in me. There was a feeling of insecurity about what to say next and how it would sound. When your work depends on speaking as much as I have to, things like that can shake you. Several years ago, it would have shaken me even more. Remarks about my accent are reminders that I am the other. I speak two languages. I am fully fluent in my second language to the point that I dream in it. It is equally true for my emotions: I love in two languages, and when I am upset, I am upset in two languages.
Having an accent indicates that you can at least navigate another language. But, it does not come without friction. Accents, unlike race, gender, age, disability, and veteran status, are not protected under the law. Thus, discriminatory interactions that might arise from it are hard to call out. Worse, some might consider that feeling uncomfortable because of remarks alluding to one’s accent is hyper-sensitive. They are not, after all, acts of physical violence. Proving harassment over an accent is more difficult, even if it’s pervasive.
We recently celebrated Martin Luther King Day. Part of that celebration was listening to his now-famous speech. I found myself thinking about it. When I came back from church, I read it. The speech is beautiful and convicting. It is well-written and eloquent. The yearning in the language is deeply moving. It shakes you, and towards the end of the speech, one wonders, what do I do?
I can’t imagine the deep pain and suffering from which his words were born. In comparison, my feeling of inadequacy at being called out for my accent seems frivolous and trite. I am not sure many of us can empathize with what it would have been like to be abused and treated as less than a human due to the color of our skin.
Though we have moved on from blatant acts of cruelty, we now engage in covert ones: comments, remarks, disdain, contempt, sabotaging, jokes, shading, and, worst of all, the ones covered and justified in legal language. These can refer to protected and unprotected classes such as accents or others. At the core, it is hesitation and/or blatant refusal to give the other person a place at the table of humanity.
When I relocated to Alabama, the last thing I expected was to use the words in this speech to justify my reaction to a comment about my kids’ skin color. I was asked why it bothered me so much when I wanted to clarify and smooth it out. I found myself saying something along these lines below:
Every day I sit on a hot chair I have to justify either why is my skin color light or dark depending on who asks, my hair being too curly or really too tight depending on who cuts it, and my accent being either too thick to some but barely noticeable to others. Neither is enough. I had this crazy idea that I too could dream that my children would be judged by the content of their character and not the color of their skin. Perhaps I was naive.
Our capacity to mistreat or to shade the other is great. Our capacity to destroy ourselves is great. The history of civilization has something to say about it. Our current events have a lot to tell about it. We learn little and repeat much. In spite of it, a small shimmer of light remains. Even amid great darkness, the weakest dream and the mustard seed can find a path. Because even if the tree is cut down, there is hope that it will sprout again and its shoots will not cease1.
We are not in 1963. We are in 2024. Sixty-one years after that speech, we still find ways to diminish each other. Power disguises itself in many costumes. Whether that costume is a remark about an accent, race, age, or disability, it comes from a place of disdain.
My design class is redesigning the US currency. Because of that, they had to research its history. In class discussion, we discussed what the US currency meant nationally and internationally. One of the students’ conclusions was that, though not as colorful as other countries’ money, the US dollar represented stability, strength, and power. They all agreed we have a long way to go as a nation while discussing the negative aspects of our politics. Perhaps that awareness will remain in their minds. At least they walked away wanting to redo their sketches after the discussion. One small step in changing minds and attitudes. One small way to shine a light.
Alma Hoffmann is a freelance designer, design educator, author of Sketching as Design Thinking, and editor at Smashing Magazine. This was originally posted on Temperamental amusing shenanigans, Alma’s Substack dedicated to design, life, and everything in between.
Banner image is a digital drawing by author, 2024.
- Rephrase of Job 14:7, ESV version. ↩︎