Appalachian Code Switching

Today's post is a self-reflection, brought on by the following two articles:

http://therevivalist.info/appalachian-code-switching/
http://www.thehomesickappalachian.com/whos-telling-our-stories/

The first speaks to something that I understand completely: code-switching. It's a fancy word that basically means you talk very differently depending on where you are talking and who you are talking to. As a mountain man with deep mountain roots, I have a way of talking that demonstrates these roots and my favorite place, Hancock County, TN. However, I am also an academic who presents in front of people often, typically about research where I am presenting data and information about language. Somewhere along the way, my way of speaking became ways of speaking. I don't remember the time or the place, and I don't really have one concrete moment when I 'changed', but I can hear it now. I hear my voice when I talk to my family or friends back home, and I also hear it when I present or in my daily life here at the university, and never the twain shall meet. People often tell me that they are surprised to hear that I come from the mountains. I'm not gonna lie, that actually hurts more that I thought at first. I suppose it hurts because I'm afraid that that person thinks that I've turned my back on my homeland and my home people. I most certainly have not done so, but that fear is real.

I can't pinpoint exactly why my speech changed. I know all the linguistic and social reasons from the linguistics literature, things like accommodation, the influence of standard ideologies, stigma, audience design, etc. But, I'm not sure any one of these is the key, perhaps it's the sum of the parts. In any case, this article resonated deeply with me. And, I am going to try to let my home voice out more away from home, because that's really who I am.

The second article speaks to my work. While the author is talking about fiction, the point is still valid. There is a growing body of linguistics literature on Appalachia. Much of it, though, has been written by people not from the region. This is not to slight their work. I know many of them and their work is stellar and thought-provoking. Their methods are sound and many of their conclusions have clarified my thinking and spurred my own work forward. At the same time, they are not writing about a region they've embraced and breathed since birth, or about people they've loved with, worked with, joked with, or mourned with for a lifetime. They see the region as worthy of study and the people worthy of having a voice, and that is completely admirable and righteous. But there is something about a native writing about home. You have a knowledge that is greater and more profound than someone looking in could ever possess. Perspectives about how things are that come from living in a place, participating in a society, and interacting with people that builds up over a lifetime. As a dear friend and fellow Appalachian academic says quite poignantly about this particular insider/outsider issue:

But I also feel down deep in my soul that they are never going to understand us like we understand ourselves. There is truth in what you say, though, about us-- as insiders-- having our own blind spots. I think the best way to think about it is insiders/ outsiders each have their strengths and limitations, but as long as our hearts are pure we can be allies. We need allies; it makes things easier. But they need to be open-minded people who understand that there are things about us and our language that they will never be able to understand.

We need to write about home, and we also need others to write about us. It's a symbiotic relationship where each has a perspective that the other needs. I fully agree that both sides must be well-intentioned.

Yet, to write about home requires a certain distance. The very thing that gives you a perspective can also cloud it. A distance that allows you to see how unique certain things are, or alternatively, how common. A distance that allows you to understand what is lacking, and, what is in abundance. A distance that allows you to see the indelible imprint of home in your life, and also to see how that imprint has colored other perceptions. A distance from home, to see it more clearly, and yearn for it more deeply.