Lost in Pronunciation

Accent assimilation at university

When you first arrive at university, you aren’t just bringing a few bags of clothes and some posters for your room. You also bring along the accent you’ve grown up with. It tags along on the journey with all of your luggage and nerves. Upon arrival, some unpack it proudly and stick to it while others try to hide it under the bed, hoping no one will notice.

I’ve never been very good at accents and have never been told I make a good mimic. My attempt at a Scottish accent has been, at best, referred to as an Irish drawl. So when my mum tuned in to my radio show a few weeks ago and asked if my voice had gotten “plummier”, I started to question whether something was wrong with the audio or if I had lost my South London twang since moving to this small town in Scotland.

The University of St Andrews is a recognisably international institution where many nationalities get thrown together in one small space. Conversations are exchanged in a chaotic muddle of idioms and vowels. Accent assimilation occurs when all of these voices start crashing into each other until, bit by bit, you start to subconsciously mimic the voices around you. Among many students, there seems to be a social gravity that pulls them into a vaguely posh, vaguely ‘British’ way of speaking, the kind of accent that feels more comfortable in a BBC documentary or a Richard Curtis film opposite Hugh Grant.

Many students don’t realise they’ve adopted a new tone or set of slang words until someone else points it out to them. There’s a thin line between adapting and acting, but this subconscious reaction to new surroundings doesn’t feel like a performance. Introducing your friends from home to your university friends tends to be the most striking signal. You suddenly find yourself stuck between two identities and neither feels quite right.

Accents are a big part of who we are. They dictate our stories, where we’re from, and who raised us. While some make the effort to double down on their regional slang, the international culture of St Andrews makes you want to belong without having to lose the parts of yourself that make you you. So, voices change. Some a little, some a lot. A quick Google search gives the comforting response that this bidialectalism is a strong sign of empathy to your neighbour, something that steers you away from the image of a human parrot, and instead towards the more impressive title of a vocal specialist. Or perhaps simply a good listener.

Accent assimilation doesn’t have to be about losing yourself or the identity you’ve grown up with. It can be a way of growing and recognising your evolution. You pick up bits of the people you’ve shared this time with, all while giving a bit of yourself in return with every conversation. The St Andrews accent becomes a strange cocktail of home, habit, and the people you happened to share a flat with in first-year.

Illustration by Lucy Maitland-Lewis