There goes my inbox again.
This time it’s a short quip on the state of California. Intended to be funny, I assume. It pokes fun at the state of our budget, plastic surgery, our gay community, our energy crisis, our Spanish-speaking (often bi-lingual) community, and gang violence.
It reminded me of a dinner party I attended a long time ago. Once the host heard my Southern accent, sneaking out thanks to a glass of wine, I was “treated” to jokes about marriage between cousins and Deliverance (curse that wretched film!). I was appalled. It was only the worst incident in a long string of “playful” jibes at my Southern accent, and insinuations that my accent shaved a good 50 points off my IQ. Folks that wouldn’t dream of poking fun at the accent of a colleague from Russia or India or China, found me fair game.
Since those days, I keep my Southern accent tucked away. It only feels safe when I go back for family reunions. I may be legal, I may be a natural-born American citizen, but I’m still an immigrant to California. Like so many other immigrants, I’m supposed to adapt to fit into the social norm.
I’m looking forward to reading Unaccustomed Earth.