The Pen is Mightier than the, Pin?

Since this is Mountain Man Linguistics blog, I wanted my first language related post to be about something that I know my mountain brethren and sistren (?) can relate to. Growing up, and to this day, I pronounce the words pen and pin exactly the same (I've measured, mine are very very similar, see the images at the bottom of the post). In fact, I have a hard time even making them sound differently. I have to recite in my head pet, pet, pet, pet and then say something that kinda sorta sounds like the way others say pen. In linguistic jargon, we say that these two sounds have 'merged', meaning just like you think it means: the sounds have become very similar if not almost the same. The cool thing is, this little phenomenon isn't due to an inability to make the different sounds. I can easily distinguish pit and pet, mitt and met, etc. The key is the final sound.

First some quick background. As a linguist, I am interested in sounds, not letters. So, when I am referring to letters or written words, I'll put them in italics (like I did above). But, when I'm referring to sounds, I use square brackets []. This means I'm referring to how we actually pronounce the sound that the letter is supposed to represent. So, when I refer to the final sound in both pen and pin, I'll use [n]. Since not everyone who reads this is an International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) nerd like me, I'll also try to give you a brief description.

Back to the actual post. The final sound is the key. When the vowel sounds [ɪ] (like in pit) and [ɛ] (like in pet) come before a nasal sound, they merge. English nasals are represented by the letters  n, m, and the letter series ng, phonetically [n], [m], and [ŋ]. A nasal just means that we close off our mouths and air flows out your nose. Try it! Just say 'mmmmmmm'. Your lips are closed, and air is coming out of your nose! (Yes, I make noises like this all the time. Just ask my wife, friends, office mates, colleagues, random people beside me when I'm reading on the bus...). When [ɪ] or [ɛ] come before one of these nasal sounds, they merge in my speech, and many other varieties of American English. I know what you're probably thinking, 'Don't you get things confused?'. No, we don't. Why? Because we ask for an ink pen when we want to write and a stick pin when we need the sharp metal thing. Also, I mean, context. If I have a blank sheet of paper or I need to sign a receipt, even if you hear pin, you know that I'm not planning on sewing. This is not a limitation, rather it is an adaptation. Other areas have different mergers.

However, sometimes funny things can happen, which makes language awesome! I shared an office with people from Miami, FL, Pittsburgh, PA, and Rock Hill, SC. Three completely different areas, with three completely different language varieties. It was glorious (well, to me the sound guy it was). One day, the colleague from Pittsburgh and I were talking, and I said something about ten sheets (I think I was referring to copies or something). She was working on the computer at the time and not fully paying attention, and stopped for a moment, thought for another long moment, and then asked, 'Why would you need metal?'. I was totally confused. We didn't have the slightest clue what the other was talking about. She wondered why the mountain guy wanted sheets of tin, and I wondered why the city girl thought I was going to give my tests on metal. Finally, it dawned on me. My merged vowels. I laughed, quickly explained, and we both laughed about it. From that day on, I made sure to try to avoid ambiguous uses of pin, pen, ten, tin, and others.

The point is language varies. People don't always sound the same, and in my humble opinion, the world would be a far more boring place if we did. Sometimes people say really mean things about language varieties that aren't the same as the ones they grew up hearing and speaking. But, at it's core, that reflects the biases that people have against those people groups, not their language. We mountain people have been stigmatized in many ways for the better part of 200 years, and since our language is part of what makes us us, people have tried to marginalize it. But, it isn't the language they really care about. If you listen to the criticism, what you hear are stereotypes about a person or about groups of people. Languages and language varieties can't be lazy, backward, hick or dumb; people can be like that (according to the opinions of others, mind you). Yet, I've heard my language and the language of my family, friends, and neighbors called such names. Those are the same insults that people throw at people who live in the mountain region. A language can't be backward, but in the narrow-minded opinions of some people, the way that a particular group speaks can be, because those people are backward, surely their language must be. See the faulty logic? In sum, language varies across space, time, groups, and individuals. I have my own unique voice, with some features that are shared, and some of my own. You have your unique voice, some features may be shared with me, or shared with others, and some that are yours alone. Embrace it.


Nerd Line - Things below this line are more technical. Feel free to read, but you've been warned.

Below are spectrograms of me saying the words ten and ten in running speech, cut from the phrases eight, nine, ten while counting and sheets of tin.  (if you don't know what a spectrogram is, I'll probably address them in a later post. For now, just think of this as a picture of the words tin and ten, and remember the nerd line warning.). You'll notice how similar they are.