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Don’t Let the Drawl Fool Ya!  • Avery Brunson Have a great day y'all ...	The madder I get - the thicker my southern drawl gets ...

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, I walk ten minutes to work at the Visitor Center in Charleston, South Carolina, where I—a part of visitor services—help tourists by recommending restaurants and carriage rides through the historic city. I eventually am met with the same backhanded comment about my accent: “You sound so smart—you must be from up North!” I always smile and respond with the same, “No, actually, I'm from South Carolina.”  

Such a comment never bothered me until I began to hear it more and more. I started to think about what it meant more and more. Why do I have to be from New York or New Jersey to appear educated?  

One morning, I was sitting behind the desk at work when a couple from New York City approached me in their tourist garb: bucket hat with “New York City” emblazoned, neck fan dangling, fanny pack graced by rainbow glitter.  For fifteen minutes, I spoke with them, listing historical sites essential to any northerners’ visit to the Holy City: an excursion to one of the plantations, a carriage tour from the Market, and the Battery to see Fort Sumter. Just before they were about to leave, they stopped and asked me what my name was. I told them “Avery,” thinking that would be the end of it.  
“You speak so well and clear, let me guess where you are from!” they said, just before leaving. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. I knew what was coming. But I kept smiling and let them try anyway. “Sure, go ahead!” I responded.  
They guessed New York. With immense pleasure, I responded, “Nope! I am from South Carolina!”  
“Are you sure?” They questioned, not believing they could ever be wrong.  

These Yankees were—of course—shocked, baffled, dumbfounded that someone from the land of magnolias could “sound so smart,” carrying on an intelligent conversation. 
“Why do I need to strip away my dialect to sound smart?” I thought to myself. 
Igniting loyalty and pride for my state, I kicked into rebel mode, sneaking in as many “y'all's” as humanly possible: “Thank y’all.” “Hope y’all have a great day!” “Be sure y’all come back soon!”  They chuckled at me saying, “We hear it now!”  
Then they rushed off to meet their carriage tour, never thinking of their rude ignorance again.  

I’m not sure why this particular conversation stuck with me so much more than the other plethora of times that I have received almost the same remark. But it did.  
I should’ve asked them, “Would you argue that Jimmy Carter, our former president who happens to be from Georgia, is stupid because he had an accent? Or that Reese Witherspoon, an actress and producer with her own book club is not educated because she is from Louisiana and her voice reflects that?” 

Even my friends from up North poke fun at me constantly, saying things like “I can’t believe you pronounce ‘boil’ like ‘bowl’’ or things like “You just said y’all twice in the same sentence.”  

My having an accent does not take away or diminish from my education or intelligence. I took the same AP and honors class in high school—if not more—than my friends from Massachusetts and New Jersey; I have the same GPA—if not higher—than my friends from the North. This is not to brag, this is to say that there should be no reason that a stranger, someone who knows nothing about me, should approach me and claim that there is no way I am from the South.   

My accent doesn’t say anything about my level of education, so why are people letting it influence that?  
© Avery Brunson 4.16.25

Avery is a junior at the College of Charleston, majoring in English with a concentration in writing, rhetoric, and publication.

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