Miami Accent

Wikipedia and research are not compatible. Why? Because my dog can edit Wikipedia, and my dog plays with dead roaches! Hell, I bet his dead roach can edit Wikipedia. I have therefore banned Wikipedia from my English classroom. That said, today my hypocrite self was browsing Wikipedia. In the Miami entry, I spotted a link for "Miami accent" and came upon this priceless nugget:

In Miami, a unique accent, commonly called the "Miami accent", is widely spoken. It developed mostly by second- or third-generation Hispanics whose first language was English. It is very similar to accents in the Northeast, but contains a rhythm and pronunciation heavily influenced by Spanish. However, a Miami accent is not Spanish-accented English, as many Miami residents who are not Hispanic, or do not speak Spanish, speak with the Miami accent as well. It is most common amongst those born and raised in Miami, and can commonly be heard spoken by Blacks and White non-Hispanics, as well as in Hispanics. However, not all Miamians have the accent. The accent is acquired in some areas, but not others.[citation needed]

First things first. My desire to edit the hell out of this convoluted paragraph replete with grammatical craziness was difficult to overcome. Apparently, Wikipedia doesn't know where to place commas or how to form the passive voice. Then there are the WTF sentences. Can someone please tell me what it means if an accent is not spoken in Hispanics or whether accents are even spoken in the first place?

Moving on, what most struck me was the equivocal nature of the passage. The point? Miami has an accent. Only Miamians have it, but not all Miamians have it, and it's not really an accent, but it's an accent (kind of), which comes from Spanish, but not only Spanish speakers have it, and it exists in some areas but not others. Get it? Got it? Fail.

Not that I'm sure how to define this "accent" either. My whole life, I've been able to identify "Americanos" in Miami by the way they speak. Having been born here, I am of course an "Americana," too, but I am first-generation "Americana," which is not the same thing. If your parents respected your teenage privacy by knocking on your bedroom door before barging in, chances are your family has been reproducing in the U.S. of A. for a while.

The fact that these privacy-respecting Americans sound different to me means that those of Hispanic origin born in Miami must have a uniquely Miami accent. As the above passage states, this is not the same thing as a Spanish accent. My parents, who were raised in Cuba, have a Spanish accent. (They don't sound like Scarface, though. Nobody sounds like Scarface! It's an appalling caricature. Okay, maybe a few Miamians sound like Scarface, but that's probably because they think it's cool to sound like Scarface.)

So if there indeed is a Miami accent, it's an American one, in the same way that the southern twang or the New York, Boston, Chicago, or Minnesota accents are American. Yet the distinctive intonation and pronunciation of the average Miamian isn't widely recognized as an American accent.

This is all quite confusing, so I leave first-generation "Americanos" and privacy-respecting "Americanos" alike with the following questions:

1) Does Miami have an accent?
2) What does a Miami accent sound like, anyway?
3) What will it take to get the Miami accent New York accent status?
4) Does Sarah Palin stand as a one-woman accent category? Such a maverick!

Please enlighten me with your insight before my mind explodes with the "accentiness" of it all.

My Dog the Roach Killer?

Monthly fumigation is no match for the heat, rain, and humidity of Miami summers, so my abhorred nemesis continues to rear its hideous antennae. If you read my A Pox on Palmetto Bugs post, you know how I feel about cockroaches, the foul villains. I think they all deserve to die, die, die. So when I caught my miniature pincher murdering one of the vile invaders this morning with a few swift strikes of his paw, you'd think I'd have rooted for him: "Blade, Blade, he's the best! Smack that roach and kill that pest!" That's not how it went down, though. Here's why:

- If Doggy touches roach and Miami Girl touches Doggy, Miami Girl touches roach.
- If Miami girl inadvertently "touches" roach via Doggy, she will feel infected all day, no matter how much she scrubs and washes.
- Doggy doesn't kill roach out of fear or hatred. Quite the contrary. Doggy considers this "fun."
- Doggy considers dead roach so much fun that, upon seeing Miami Girl, Doggy sweeps dead roach under doggy bed.
- In Doggy's crafty attempt to hide new "toy," Doggy lies on doggy bed (under which lies roach) and plays innocent.
- Miami Girl screams, "Blade, it's not a bone! It's a freaking roach! What is wrong with you?!"

Ugh, at least he doesn't eat them. Needless to say, Blade sleeps on a brand new doggy bed tonight and smells of lavender shampoo.

Blade, working his "I didn't do nothing" look.

Growing Up Spanglish: Part Dos

Is it odd that my first language is Spanish, but my native language is English? Not in Miami.

Being first-generation American in Miami is not alienating. I wasn't the only kid in my elementary school to carry a Materva in her lunch box, I wasn't the only middle schooler who had to teach my parents what a GPA was, and I wasn't the only high school girl to be professionally photographed in a hideous poofy white dress for her quinces (fifteenth birthday).

My life has always been compartmentalized into language zones: English for social life; Spanish for family life. It's not quite that simple, of course. Within families, it's strictly Spanish with the abuelos (grandparents). With the parents, it depends. Did they attend school in the U.S. or not? This will generally determine how much Spanish is spoken in the home. My parents were raised in Cuba, which means I speak to them primarily in Spanish. There are exceptions, though. For instance, if my father and I are discussing Obama's healthcare plan, we may instinctually switch to English because we unconsciously categorize certain topics as English-language ones.

Siblings and cousins tend to fall into the English zone, granted they're not acabados de llegar (just arrived from *insert name of Latin American country here*). My cousin moved to the States when she was eight years old. We speak a hybrid language that consists of the following ingredients:

- 3 parts English
- 1 part Spanish
- 1 part Cuban (not to be confused with proper Spanish, which doesn't make use of colorful expressions as absurd as le zumba el merequeténgue)

As someone with an MA in English, I am often conflicted about the extensive use of Spanglish in this town. Many people seem unable to speak either language correctly. At times, though, a Spanish word (or Cuban expression) has greater import than its English counterpart (if there is one). The reverse is also true. Navigating between two languages with fellow bilingual Miamians is therefore practical. It's also fun. Consider the common use of Yiddish terms in American English. Would you rather say, "that guy's got nerve and confidence," or "that guy's got chutzpah"? I rest my case. For better or worse, Spanglish is Miami's unofficial language.

I leave you with another classic ¿Qué Pasa, U.S.A.? clip, in which the Spanish/English, grandparent/grandchild rift is taken to its comedic extreme.