It's not a compliment when I'm told I don't sound Black

This First Person column is written by Evelyn Bradley, a diversity, equity and inclusion consultant based in Charlottetown, P.E.I. For more information about CBC P.E.I.'s commissioned pieces, please see the FAQ.

When I was young, I sat in a parent-teacher conference listening to my English teacher praise my mother for the way I spoke. "She's so articulate. She has such a large vocabulary!" 

It made me uneasy even then. I saw my mother nodding and smiling, but I could tell she wasn't happy. On the drive home, she stopped at a red light, inhaled deeply, and said, "I know you can tell I'm upset about what your teacher said. I'm not mad at you, but those were not compliments." 

I felt validated in my discomfort and, as we drove home, my mother explained the context and implication behind my teacher's words: She was really saying I sounded "better" and spoke "better" than she expected. 

This memory has stuck with me. 

As an adult, I still experience micro-aggressions like this weekly. 

When people tell me I'm well spoken, I can't help but ask, "How else should I sound, and why did you expect me to speak differently?"

So what is code-switching anyway?

Bear with me, because unless you're Black or a person of colour, you'll need some context to understand why I find statements like this to be hurtful: impact matters over intent. 

Code-switching is when someone changes the way they speak depending on who they're talking to or the setting they're in. It can lead to a shift in the syntax, tempo, and even the cadence of how someone puts together sentences and pronounces words.

The assumption that I should sound more Black, or that one can sound Black at all, is to suggest that I should sound like a stereotype.- Evelyn Bradley

In the U.S., it's most evident when marginalized groups adapt the accent, tempo and cadence of what we might call standard English. It's a game of mental gymnastics for the people being asked to — or forced to — speak in a language that they do not think in.

But in my experience, the term code-switching is most often used to describe those of the African/Black diaspora. It suggests to me that, when Black people speak — all Black people, regardless of education, upbringing, country of origin, age, class, etc. — we should mimic a particular sentence structure, a modified diction, and an unclear syntax. 

You see, this is why the questions and comments about the way I speak are so problematic. What I hear is an implication that I am performing mental gymnastics in order to speak the way I do. 

Who should sound like ... anything?

The facts are that I'm a millennial who grew up in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia. As a kid, I had more books than access to TV. My mother emphasized early and often how important it is to communicate effectively. My college degree is in English. 

The assumption that I should sound more Black, or that one can sound Black at all, is to suggest that I should sound like a stereotype. This stereotype is expected to be the pillar of my Black cultural identity instead of my reality. That is hurtful because my cultural identity is so much more beautiful, complex, and important than simply the way I talk.

A few weeks ago at a work event in P.E.I., I was again told I didn't sound Black. It caught me off guard, and it dawned on me that there is still an assumption that I am code-switching, that I am mimicking whiteness when I speak.

For those of you still on the fence about the connection I've made between the subconscious bias of impact vs. intent, let me leave you with this.

I have a friend who grew up in rural P.E.I. On the weekends, she adopts the accent, cadence and syntax her community is known for — so much so that I assure you I can only understand every fourth word she says.

When she's at work, her choice of vocabulary and use of inflection shift. She is mirroring the pronunciations and sentence structures she knows to be culturally expected. She is taking in information in a language she does not think in, and converting it in her mind. 

The term code-switching describes exactly what is happening here, but it would not likely be used by anyone to describe her. As far as I can see through our many conversations, this concept is not something she's asked about with any frequency. 

If code-switching as the term is used today isn't a micro-aggressive construct, why isn't my white friend asked about how she speaks? Why is it assumed that proper English is for white people, and people of colour must inherently speak in broken English? What is the sound of Blackness, after all, if not the way I sound?

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