by Sydney Gan
I never realized I hated the way my voice lilted.
My accent is a mark of my origins; the cadence of my hometown. Yet, I’ve put conscious effort into erasing it, to conform to some indiscernible Western ideal. I remember every flush of embarrassment that came when my words would spill out in jumbled enunciations. I recall the wincing smile at shopkeepers who, upon identifying my foreignness through my language, gave their condescending version of Mandarin niceties. I wanted to apologize: I’m sorry for sounding Malaysian, I should have been better. Because that was what the standard of propriety was—to not sound like me.
This insecurity is not a recent development; it’s been ingrained into me throughout my growing up. Spending my formative years in a white-washed environment of Malaysian international schools, my aversion to our native accents was almost normalized. I was a guilty member of apprehensive interrogations that demanded if the Malaysian inflection in our voices was noticeable. After all, if we were going to behave as if we were better than anyone else, how better to do it than with high falutin accents?
Maybe my resentment to the way I articulate is justified in a society where linguistic discrimination is still apparent and alive. It would make certain sense, the desire to bypass this invisible form of racism. Linguistic discrimination is the unfair treatment of another on the basis of the characterization of their speech or language. As is the case of many institutionalized prejudices, it isn’t a wild surprise to find that linguistic discrimination can be traced back to European colonization and slavery. Used as a means of integration and the formation of a unified state, native languages were destroyed through their neglect in formal education. In Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s Decolonizing the Mind, he raised the example of African slaves whose indigenous languages were strictly prohibited to cut off their roots from their African origins. The ramifications of these draconian decrees manifest themselves in our casual reverence of the English language and its particular inflections.
Linguistic racism is reflected in workplaces, schools, and other social settings. Reports of discriminatory behavior rose rampant within online work environments, an example of which came from an Ethiopian employee who was routinely excluded and interrupted in meetings under the premise that his accent was unintelligible. Othering accents have also been perceived as an indication of poor education, which is a nonsensical assumption perpetuated by Eurocentric myths. These are subtle biases, certainly not something anyone would admit freely, yet their impact is notable—workers and students of ethnic origins are forced to endure the transgression of microaggressions that they cannot bring attention to without being dismissed or ridiculed.
With all the difficulties those from ethnic minority backgrounds face, certain lines become harder to tread, such as the depiction of accents in entertainment. There has been a long-drawn debate of whether imitating ethnic accents for the sake of fiction and comedy is permissible. Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza recently revived this argument, the catalyst being the portrayal of a white male character being presented to speak in an exaggerated Japanese accent to his Japanese wife and later repeating the bit with another woman who appears to be his new spouse. The gag has been described by the Slate as “graceless”, and was severely condemned on TikTok (of course, the primary platform for accountability). But what exactly is the significance of a joke like this to be repeatedly written into media to conjure up cheap laughs? It is a simple question of either having the audience laughing with or at the caricature of an unfamiliar culture. A study was conducted which reviewed the top 10 highest-grossing films in the year 2019 and 2020 to find that audiences were encouraged to laugh at almost 50% of the Asian and Pacific Islander characters, even though only less than a quarter of them were represented to be comedic themselves. The very fact that they appear to be of a different ethnicity is the butt of the joke itself, an inherent comedic relief. Because that is what is to be done when cultures clash – you jeer at the difference with a mask of good nature. Ignorant white writers do not care about the girl who practices her speech patterns by her lonesome to bite her accent out of each syllable.
But what about those who claim their homeland accent as a vital aspect of a character? Even more confusingly: what if the character was constructed for the sake of comedy? Uncle Roger is a Malaysian standup comedian who is known throughout the internet for his culinary videos as he emulates Gordon Ramsay-esque scorn towards those who disparage the art of cooking. As this persona, Uncle Roger communicates with his audience through a thick and self-proclaimed exaggerated Cantonese accent. He defended his use of the accent as one that is “celebratory” and a symbol of honoring his origins, stating that it is justified as “it is the Asian community who enjoys [his comedy] the most”. Truth be told, I am absolutely stumped as to where I stand in this debate. There are too many subtle complexities to succinctly condense my opinions into a simple and straightforward viewpoint. Nigel Ng, who performs the Uncle Roger persona, touches upon this in a way when he admits the fact that the accent he performs with was, and is still, a reason why members of society are being ridiculed in different social contexts. However, he addresses the fact that this accent, to him, is reflective of his life experience growing up in Malaysia. “Both our life experiences can exist together,” he said. He is not wrong. To completely ignore the ethnic truth of those who are steeped in such a culture would be a false and dishonest portrayal of Asians in media. Asian people exist out of Western contexts; to not address that would be plainly absurd.
The niggling bit of doubt I have for his stance arises from his intention behind the use of the Cantonese accent. No matter what anyone tries to argue, one fact is true: the very creation of this finicky food reviewer is meant for comedy. You are supposed to guffaw when he throws critiques around with his Chinese-toned indignance. A good point was made in this article about Uncle Roger’s accent and how it may come across as racist; if the accent was removed from Ng’s skits, they would be immediately devoid of humor. An excellent contrast was raised between Uncle Roger and Jessica Huang from the TV show Fresh Off the Boat. Constance Wu’s character speaks in an accent as a newly migrated Taiwanese-American mother, but the butt of the humor does not derive from her speech inflections. The accent is utilized as “part of the character, not the joke.” If the jokes are written on the basis of stereotypes and the mimicry of the Asian accent, are they even jokes at all?
I wish I could lead out with some uplifting spiel about accepting ourselves as who we are, but as it stands, things are not as simple as this. Trying to ‘decolonize the mind’ is a process; a new and intimidating one that would take time and effort—it requires more than just momentary enlightenment. So in the meantime, I’ll endure the caricatures of my voice and scowl at poor representation on TV. I will slowly try to unlearn the loathing of the sound of my voice, and I will try and keep trying to honor my heritage through my speech.