Words I’m Learning to Say

“Send your lifeboats out for me. Send your lifeboat out.” ~Snow Patrol

1609917.pngI’ve never been good at speaking my feelings. Writing them down, no problem, but speaking them out loud? In front of other people? Being that vulnerable? No way, unless it was absolutely impossible to do it any other way. I once broke up with a girl over email. I once broke up with a girl through a proxy (Anthony has never forgiven me for that one). I told a girl I loved her for the first time in a note, and only when she told me the feelings were reciprocated was I able to actually say it out loud.

I guess I’m just not wired that way, to be emotionally raw and accessible outside of the written word. Even now, even in this, I realize I’m doing exactly what I’m talking about, in writing down how I feel about this aspect of my being. But that’s just me, and I’ve spent years working on it, to no avail. Many people have told me they thought I was just fine until I finally broke down. Many people have been surprised when what seems like the smallest thing gets me depressed. That’s because it wasn’t the smallest thing. That’s because I let things build when I don’t talk about them.

I used to think it was good enough to write my feelings down, because at least I was getting them out. And it is definitely cathartic for me, a type of medicine that I don’t know what I would do without. But sometimes words need to be actually said. Sometimes words need to pass through my lips on their way to someone’s ears, so that they can hear me. So that they can know what I feel. So that I can bare my soul in a way that writing cannot mimic. Because there’s something to be said for human contact, for eye contact, for personal and physical CONTACT.

There have been very few people in my life who I don’t put on a mask around, but even with those people it hasn’t been easy to verbalize, to get things out without writing them down. Perhaps I’ve used my skill with writing as a crutch all these years in my personal relationships, preferring to write it out instead of to face it head on, whatever IT is. When I need to confess something, when things haven’t gone the way I wish they had, it’s tough to get it out. When I am overcome with emotion and I want to share it, it’s tough.

And it’s not just my writing that I use as a crutch. These masks I often wear, they’ve become rigid, so when I have them on I can’t even move my face, like a Botox injection that won’t wear off until I’m asleep and finally vulnerable. When I try to focus, to shuck off these masks, it’s difficult to do. But I used to feel like it was impossible, and I no longer feel that way. Sometimes I need to feel that bit of discomfort in order to get to the greater good. I learned that the hard way, time after time.

But with Heidi… it’s different. I won’t deign to say it’s easy, because it’s not. It’s the classic “It’s not you, it’s me” deal, but it really is me. Luckily for me, we’ve been together long enough that she knows when I have something on my mind. She is the one person who can see through my masks and can draw me out. I know it’s not easy, and I’m not easy, but she fights for me when I won’t fight for myself. Over the years I’ve found myself relaxing around her, being myself, which is incredibly scary. But less scary lately.

As I’ve gotten older I realize it’s more important to let the people I care about be there for me instead of trying to always be so strong. So that this emotional rawness I can allow my wife to see becomes more of a standard for me. So that these feelings I used to drown deep down inside are allowed to swim. So I can breathe, and speak, and be.



Dueling Dialects

I remember the first time my wife heard me speaking on the phone with my mother. Her mouth was on the floor by the time the conversation was over, and I couldn’t quite figure out why. For the entire second half of the phone call I kept shooting her looks that meant, “What’s the deal?” but she wasn’t talking. Just staring. So, when it was over and we both hung up, I asked her what was the deal. She told me that I sounded different, and I asked her how. Apparently, I use an entirely different dialect when I speak with my mother, not even remotely the same as the one I use with my wife, and I hadn’t even realized it. It made sense, though, when I thought about it, because over the years I have learned to shift and change the way I speak when I’m in certain company. I guess it has just become a natural part of how I approach the world, with several dialects.

The “Down Home” Dialect

This is the one I use when I’m around “the fam,” including my mother, my sister, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins. Interestingly enough, I tend to use it as well when I’m just around other black people. Now let me explain. Since I grew up in an environment that was entirely black, and I had interactions only with black people, the dialect of Philadelphia blacks became my dialect too, from the time I was able to talk. And it remains the easiest, most natural dialect for me to speak because I don’t have to think about it. Most interesting about this dialect is the usage (and non-usage) of the verb “to be,” and all of its many forms. When using the “down home” dialect, there is constant shifting of the verb. For example:

“We be going to the gym.”

“They is wack.”

The other common occurrence in the “down home” dialect is to leave out the verb “to be” altogether. For example:

“This coffee bad.”

“Who y’all got?”

There is also no “th” sound in the “down home” dialect. When a “th” is normally found at the end of a word, the dialect sounds it out as if it were an “f.” And when the “th” sound is at the beginning of a word, it is changed to a “d” sound instead. For example:

“Dey be wif Boo Boo and dem.”

The glory of the “down home” dialect is the level of familiarity it automatically supposes. Just today when I was at work, another guy who works there (also black) came through my section with a case of Heineken under his arm, apparently out for the day and doing a little shopping. We had a small conversation about the beer, and I just slipped right into the dialect without a pause because he did it first. It’s like riding a bike. When a bike is around, you just pick it up and ride off, no questions asked. And even though we had never spoken before, we had a genuine conversation as if we were old friends. Like we were down home.

The “Casual” Dialect

Now, the dialect I use at home is generally going to be the casual dialect, which, while it is a lot different from the down home dialect, still has an ease to it, especially after all these years in the same place, with the same people. The major difference between the two is that I still have to think about what I’m saying in the casual dialect, making the title just a tad bit misleading. It still isn’t standard spoken English, however, because I often use different phrasing to make a point. One of the ways I do this is through imitations.

The Bill Cosby: “I gots ta get the jellllllo pudDING pops.”

The Arnold Schwarzenegger: “Ev-er-ee-bod-ee get to da chop-pa!”

Another way I change up the phrasing is through inventing words, then using them in wild and crazy ways.

“The sun is always twilighting before it goes down.”

“I am quite confabulous, don’t you think?”

I keep all of my verb phrases intact in the casual dialect, and I make use of the “th” sound. However, probably as a result of living here, I do tend to drop off my “g”s at the ends of words, and to make all words plural by just adding an “s.” There is also a tendency in the casual dialect to leave off parts of oft-used phrases. There is a simplicity to the casual dialect, just like with the down home dialect, but everyone can generally understand me when I use the casual dialect without needing a translation.

The Proper” Dialect

This is the one I have to spend the most time thinking about. It is usually the dialect in which I write as well, so you are familiar with it if you read my blog. I pay attention to pretty much every grammatical and language rule in the “proper” dialect. It is the dialect I save for when I’m in front of a group full of people who are listening to me. This includes when I’m teaching, when I’m in an interview, when I’m at a social function, and when I first meet someone. This last one was a surprise to me, but it bears out. Most people, upon first meeting me, think I’m stuck up or snotty because of this “proper” dialect I tend to drag out when in an entirely new situation. After a small amount of time, however, my comfort level eases and I naturally slip into the “casual” dialect, which is apparently my friendlier one.

I don’t know if any of that will ever change, even though I’m cognizant of it now when I wasn’t before. If anything, the “casual” dialect and the “down home” dialect will get a little closer together, so I’m really not thinking about either one, just speaking. The “proper” dialect will always exist for me, and I think it’s obvious why. Everyone needs to pull out the “educated” speech patterns when in certain situations, but it takes a lot of energy sometimes.

How you be talkin’?


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