What kind of accent is that? Apparently the kind that stands out in Chapel Hill but disappears in Alabama

My mom and I loved this book when I was a kid, although I’m pretty sure we both already knew how.

When people describe Southerners, I imagine accents are one of the first things that come to mind. (I like to identify people’s home states or regions by their accents, although I can only really do Southern and even then some better than others.)

When I worked in Florence, Alabama, I was sitting in the front passenger seat of police officer’s car (for a story, not an arrest), talking to him as he drove and, after a while got to the usual “where you from” stuff. After I told him I was from Huntsville, he said, “You don’t really have an Alabama accent.” I didn’t argue with him, and gave him my theory about why Huntsville accents are different.

That was one of dozens of times I’ve been told I don’t have an accent — not coincidentally, all in Alabama. Then I moved to Chapel Hill. I’d only been here a few weeks the first time something quite different happened. I was talking to a teacher in the noisy playground of my youngest son’s preschool when another parent overheard me, walked up from behind and said, “You must be the one from Alabama.”

The comment caught me off guard, but afterward I thought to myself, “The last time I checked, this is the South. You’re the one with the accent.”

I’ve been told the same thing a number of times now, although in different contexts. I kept my snappy comeback about this being the South to myself, until this week.

At my youngest son’s end-of-year wrestling party last Monday, I was enjoying a pleasant conversation with a friendly but loud dad whose tongue sounded Midwestern to me, and a soft-spoken mom, his wife, who I could tell was a native Spanish speaker even before I learned she was from Spain. Another mom who was listening asked me what kind of accent mine was and I decided now was the time turn the tables with my clever observation about who really had the accent.

After I said it, she looked at me sort of funny and said something in response that I don’t remember. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself until it registered she dragged out “too” in a way that sounded more like “tyoo.” Then I realized I had used my smart-assed response on another Southerner. Next time I’ll just answer the question. Maybe I’ll throw in a “ma’am.”

About Paul Isom

I'm an Alabama native who moved up north to Chapel Hill. My mission is to bring the Southern to my neighborhood, Southern Village. Otherwise, I'm all about journalism: writing, editing, teaching and advising.

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