TALKING AMERICAN

Ted's head was moving from side to side, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He could have been closely following a long, furious rally to decide a tiebreaker at a tennis match. Or he could have been trying to break the world's speed record in performing neck exercises. But instead, he was watching me.

Ted was watching me chat up the table during dinner. To my left were John, Yey, and Arnel -- who grew up and were educated in Manila. To my right were Winston, Cisa, Ed, and Ted -- all American-born and raised. I was telling a story in my usual animated fashion, and Ted was transfixed by my multiple personalities revealing themselves in full glory.

Whenever I turned to my left, I was your typical Manila colegiala, speaking as if I were singing, punctuating my sentences with "naku" and "talaga" and with flourishes of my wrists and fingers. When my neck swiveled to the right, my vowels suddenly elongated, and I no longer enunciated each syllable as distinctly as if each were an entire word. My transformations occurred as rapidly as my head moved, sometimes even in mid-sentence. Of course I was not aware of my alters vying for dominance, but I can imagine it was quite spooky to watch.

For the first year after I moved to the States, it seemed I had completely forgotten how to speak. I've always been an English speaker -- I even think in English (although when I'm angry or flustered, my brain only remembers Tagalog). And although my Lolo (Grandfather), a Tagalog poet and writer, always admonished us strongly against speaking in Taglish, I'd sometimes slip, as I still do today, especially if in the presence of like-minded language violators. But now I found myself unable to speak comfortably in any way.

During that strange time I often found myself tongue-tied and grasping for words the way beached fish struggle for oxygen. I'd always considered myself pathetic because I was at best only borderline fluent in conversational Tagalog (c'mon now -- there's no reason to be proud of not being able to speak one's native language well!). My remedial Filipino class professor in Ateneo often reminded me how my lolo thrashed about in his grave each time I attempted to speak or write in more literary Tagalog. And now I'd forgotten how to converse in the only language I knew well.

It took me a while to figure out what had happened. I realized when I spoke English to Americans, I wasn't always understood. My accent got in the way.

Not just the accent, but also the way I spoke. I still talk fast -- if you were listening to me read this out loud, I'd be at the end of my post just about now. And sometimes even my choice of words proved confusing: terms and phrases like "rubber shoes," "overtake," "for a moment, please," "go down (from a vehicle to the ground)," -- none of these make any sense to anyone who has not spent any significant length of time in the Philippines. So I became a bit self-conscious, understandably so I suppose. Mind you, I was never ashamed of "sounding" like I was Filipino -- that's what I am, after all. But when people are always correcting the way you pronounce your words, you start thinking how you're going to say each word before you've even decided what to say.

In hindsight, my self-consciousness stemmed from my fear of failure; in this case, of failing to communicate effectively. It's just that I've always identified myself as a communicator: I speak and write only to be understood, period, and never to impress or intimidate or inveigle. So when I realize my message isn't getting through, I'll tweak whatever I need to in order for myself to be clear. In short, I was doing a lot of tweaking in those days, and my brain had blown a fuse or two and thereby scrambling the messages I wanted to get across.

There was a time I even resorted to communicating via sound effects and hand motions because I found it easier to do so. My Television Production professor at LMU liked to call on me, he said, because he found me absolutely fascinating to watch. One time he had me explain to the class how to properly roll up long cables of television studio equipment. He later confessed to the delight of my classmates he was amazed I was able to do so without uttering a single word. I imagined rolling the thick cords around his neck as I pretended to laugh along with them.

I'm not sure when I began sounding more like a native. There was a time people I just met would try to figure out where I was from because I didn't sound like I was from here: I've heard strangers guess I was from Europe, Hawaii, and even from the South (!) -- obviously none of them were Filipino. I suppose a while later I realized I could pass for a local because most people simply assumed I was born and raised here in California. But really, if you listen quite carefully, you'll hear my distinct Filipino accent -- it's there in my vowels and in my enunciation, and the lilt at the end of my sentences. And I'm mighty proud of it. Because when I speak nowadays, not only do people understand what I'm saying, but there's still a hint of where I'm from. It's like I haven't lost myself even if I sound a bit different from when I first got here.

I guess you can say that even when I'm talking American, a Pinay's still doing all the talking. And that goes for all my multiple personalities.

Comments

[sistah #1]

"inveigle"??? no wonder no one understands what you're saying (except probably for my friend chris who's probably memorized the entire merriam-webster dictionary by now).

maybe us santos kids (except maybe for tina) think in english because we spoke nothing but english/taglish at home when we were growing up. i remember the times when my high school pilipino teacher would ask me something in tagalog and i would respond in english (outside of the classroom, of course). it would drive her nuts!

[sistah #1]

... and now i feel like i can't communicate in english either; i just re-read what i wrote and noticed that i used "probably" twice in one sentence and "maybe" twice in another! argh.

[Jojie]

I take back my previous comment re your non-English upbringing. It was presumptious of me to think that we all spoke our native dialects or Tagalog during our formative years in the Philippines.

What irks me is that having an accent is delightful only if you're British or from some other European country. An Asian accent is more of a liability.

[Gigi]

Hi Jojie,
Unfortunately there are too many narrow-minded people out there who judge the ability or intellect of others by how they speak. It's a thorny issue indeed, especially in our community. Mine is only a personal account of my experience, and does hint of the negativity I encountered. Still, I'm fully aware I can't control how others choose to think and act; I can only shape how I deal with outside forces and make things work for me. If others think my Filipino accent is a liability -- even if I speak clearly enough to be understood -- then that's their problem. In my opinion, myopic thinking is a much more serious liability than having any kind of accent.

[Gigi]

Sistah#1,
I suppose you have a really good reason for not speaking Tagalog very well (if at all) -- you spent only a quarter of your entire life in the Philippines. But Suzy and Tina are completely fluent, and ironically I've gotten so much better since I've been here (all my friends back home say so!). So I guess if we want to say nasty things about you, we don't need to talk behind your back. We can say it right in front of your face as long as we say it (fast) in Tagalog. :)
PS: "Inveigle" is to trick someone into doing something. I suppose I could have written "deceive," but I liked the alliterative effect of the words (impress/intimidate/inveigle) strung together. O, di ba?

[sistah #1]

ha! i'd like to hear my sisters have an entire conversation among themselves in nothing but tagalog (i.e., no english nor spanish words). bet they can't...

but it's true that you guys have an unfair advantage. you've all lived in manila for at least 30 years each, while i was there for only a fraction of that; after all, i'm only 29 :)

[mell]

hahaha, quite amazing!

My brother and I have a term for what you have just described. We call it camelionizing, I know, I know its not a real word. This ability to look and sound like who you are with...

I have since done this in the minimum, it hurts my head too much when theres too many different kinds of people! hahahah

But for me its either english or tagalog, nothing in between. Unless the circumstance presents itself, diba? See what you made me do! jk :D

[sarah]

speaking in an american accent is also a liability for me here, too. i do it unconsciously, and then i get jolted back to reality whenever i hear them reply in english! then i use tagalog. =D

i find myself code-switching from time to time, to suit the people i'm with. i just came down from baguio this weekend and man, were the people i were with so conyo. hehe.

[Gigi]

Sistah#1 - Your memory is so off (must be old age). I lived in Manila for a little more than half of the 30 years you say I did. Don't you remember me being here all this time???

Mell - I guess we (immigrants) all do this -- change the way we talk, I mean. I used to work with this gal from London who had this really proper English accent. There soon came a time when even Brits would ask her if she was Australian (!). At that point she said she knew she had been in the States "too long."

Sarah - All my Fil-Am girlfriends who studied for a year or two in the Philippines used to complain to me that once they opened their mouths and spoke, people automatically assumed they were "easy" or "wild." Interestingly enough, the guys didn't have that problem. I'm guessing because of all the Fil-Ams who have gone home and become celebrities (MTV VJs, etc.), attitudes have changed somewhat. Or have they?

[sarah]

maybe it's with the ease with which english rolls off their tongues, coupled with the complete inundation of american movies into local culture. =P

i don't know, but for me, whenever people hear others speak in straight english, it strikes them as sort of innocent-sounding, especially for girls.

for guys, you're right, they don't seem to have a problem with that. but attitudes seem to be the same, i think.

[sistah #1]

no matter how long you've lived here, you've always had at least one foot back in the philippines. you visit manila at least once a year (or at least it seems like it). you frequent filipino websites, newspapers, and tv shows and can rattle off names of filipino celebrities as well as the latest gossip. so as far as i'm concerned, you've never really left home.