What's Wrong With Proper English?

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH PROPER ENGLISH?"


    It’s the oddest thing, being judged for the way you speak!  This is nothing new for me.  I grew up in the South Bronx, in one of the worst neighborhoods of New York City.  Both of my parents had come to live in New York as young teens.  My parents divorced when I was quite young, so my mother had to do the single parent thing, raising my brother and I.  The mix of our culture and my mothers’ ambition to create the best life for us guided our fate in a much different direction than many of the other children in our neighborhood.  My mother worked at the phone company, dressed up every day in a suit and heels, and was a true lady.  She put both of us through Catholic and private schools up until the eighth grade.  (I had to go to public high school after that, and I learned a lot!)  We were never allowed to play outside in our neighborhood.  Instead we’d go for outings in Central Park or visit the various museums in Manhattan.  Even though I wasn’t involved in the urban life, I was aware because I was exposed to it.

    Present day, I still get stereotyped and judged.  At first it goes like this.  They find out I am from New York, namely the Bronx, and people think I must have grown up fighting, dodging drug dealers amongst a slew of other stereotypes associated with Urban New York.  After speaking to me for about two or three minutes, they can’t even believe I am from the Bronx.  Because of my mothers’ choices to educate us well, I do know the value of speaking proper English.  This doesn’t mean that I can’t relate to anyone who is urbanized, speaking in the ghetto-tongue terminology that you can only really understand if you have spoken it yourself.  I consider myself lucky to be multi-faceted. 

    I have been labeled many things for the way that I speak.  I have been called prissy, conceited, a prude, a snob and uptight.  Depending on the day, you may see me in a bohemian skirt and tank top with long dangly earrings and bangle bracelets, a transplant right out of The Village in downtown Manhattan.  Other days, you will see me in tight jeans, a Baby Phat top and a pair of Timberland boots and hoop earrings and gold chain, something out of a hip-hop video.  I can be any of those things because I am all of those things.  But my speech, my choice of words, my poetic way of seeing things, is still often judged. 

    Here’s the kicker!  My husband is a true New Yorker to the heart, urban and rugged.  He is fluent in ghetto-lingo, a page out of hip-hop fashion magazines and the life of every party.  The first thing people say to him when they meet me is “That’s your wife?  You two are SO different!”  It must be true, opposites attract.  My first nature is my educated way, urbanizing myself when the situation calls for it, my husbands first nature is urbanized, using proper English only when necessary.  He says he just prefers to be relaxed, and I don’t blame him.  I know what he is, that he is an intelligent man, and he doesn’t need to flaunt it to impress me!  I don’t flaunt it; I just can’t help it!  I remember one of my speech teachers favorite words, as she uttered it, accentuating each syllable as if it was snapping and slapping out of her mouth –INNUNCIATE-that’s what she’d always say.  I was trained not to drop the R on words, a signature of New Yorkers.  Crisp T’s and clear diction, every day.  One teacher would forbid us from using the word “very” in essays, encouraging us to find other words to express the sentiment. 

    All of these things make me who I am.  Still, I get judged.  People think I am a fake.  I almost can’t blame anyone, though.  Think of what represents us.  If I were a celebrity, I wouldn’t make it a point on every interview to say “I’m just a little ol’ Puerto Rican girl from the Bronx!”  I wouldn’t market my body parts and make them a trademark.  I wouldn’t ride the media roller coaster, changing my image from year to year.  I’d project a positive educated image.  That’s just me! 

    So when you might say, “It’s nice outside.” I might say “What splendid weather we are having!”  Instead of saying “That’s Hot!” I might say, “That’s quite nice!”  But don’t be mistaken.  I can still understand you and if I want to speak that way I can.  Just don’t judge me.  What’s wrong with speaking proper English?  It doesn’t make me any less “down” any less, with-it, any less “hot”.  I am lucky because I am all of it.  Whatever position I am in, I can adapt.  So nowadays, I find myself saying to my children, “INNUNCIATE” your words!  There is nothing wrong with speaking proper English!  I’d rather be judged for speaking proper English than for speaking any other way!


~M.G.~