Social climbing

Rita Byrne Tull continues her series of Dabbler letters from America…

When I flew across the Atlantic so many years ago I didn’t realize that I was also traveling on a high-speed escalator up the social classes. The notion that America is a classless society is, of course, a myth. Just hang out at a country club for a while and then go shopping at Walmart. Case closed. But there’s a crucial difference between the UK’s social hierarchy and that of its former colony. In England, no matter how educated and successful you are, as soon as you open your mouth your accent is instantly classified on a finely calibrated social scale from which there is no appeal. Let’s face it, the Middletons will always be Middle Class. But in America you can easily move up or down the scale according to the whims of luck and fate, or, as the Republicans insist, hard work. Class is calibrated on one measure only, the Almighty Dollar Sign, accent be damned. But I discovered that there is one crucial exception. In America you are instantly accorded Upper Class status if you possess an English accent. It doesn’t matter if you speak the Queen’s English or the broadest Cockney; Americans are mesmerized and ready to instantly forgive that little incident of the burning of the White House in 1812. 

At first it could be embarrassing; complete strangers actually said things to me like “I could listen to you for hours.” (My husband, apparently, didn’t feel the same way). Wherever I worked I was always asked to answer the phone; “it gives us a touch of class.” I soon learned that while most foreigners and minorities are stereotyped in negative ways, my English accent had the opposite effect. I am stereotyped as cultured and intelligent and, yes, Upper Class, just on the strength of how I speak. It’s humbling and a lot to live up to. The effect is particularly strong among that peculiar subspecies of Americans known as the Anglophiles. They tend to flock to public libraries, which was very good for my career. All I had to do was drop a few names of British authors and discourse on the latest Booker Prize spat in my very own voice and they hung on my every word. Seriously, my career was fast-tracked by my extensive knowledge of English Literature (hey, I’ve even heard of Frank Key), but there is no doubt that my accent was added value. 

Though I bask in their adulation, American Anglophiles do have one habit that I find very irritating. They expect me to be as enamored of the Royal Family as they are. Whenever the Royals are in the news they consult me as a presumed expert on whether Charles should be passed over for the throne, does the Queen get along with Camilla, what do I think of Princess Bea’s hat at the Royal Wedding, was it a disgrace to the monarchy, and on and on. Sometimes I have to remind these people that they fought a revolution to get rid of the royals. I actually fell in love with Christopher Hitchens when he appeared on TV and called the present Royal Family “the Hanoverian usurpers” in the ultra plummy accent that assured his success in America. Now I can confound my questioners by claiming to be a Jacobite. 

The whole accent thing has led to some awkward moments on both sides of the Atlantic. Stateside I was once in a group of people I didn’t know very well. They began to discuss the thorny topic of immigration and it soon turned into an immigrant bashing session. They showed no discomfort doing this in front of me. Finally I broke in and reminded them “you know, I am an immigrant.”  “Oh, but of course we don’t mean you” one of them assured me. Exactly. So very revealing of their real objections to immigrants. Conversely, when I visited a tiny hotel in the English countryside with my American husband and children, I took rather a perverse pleasure in watching the discomfiture of a group of very posh fellow guests.  The years abroad had by this time left my accent hovering somewhere in the mid-Atlantic. Deprived of their standard measure of social class, they weren’t quite sure whether they could condescend to me or not. They tried to find out more about my social origins by asking pointed questions, such as where I went to school and what I thought of the American Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong. Ah, I thought, they’re trying to find out if I’m an Anglican. I answered truthfully that I didn’t know much about him because I was raised a Roman Catholic and my husband is a Methodist.  This revelation caused an awkward silence and then, having decided it was indeed safe to condescend, they treated us all with the indulgent tolerance due to American tourists for the rest of our stay. My children thought they were really nice people.  

Quite frankly, it’s a good life being a special person, and being English in America means being special. That’s the honest truth. If anyone out there wishes to put me in my place and correct my assumption of Upper Class status, please feel free to do so in the comments. I may condescend to read them. Just remember, we upper crust types are impervious to criticism.

Rita Byrne Tull is an ex-pat librarian who lives in Maryland.
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Rita Byrne Tull is an ex-pat librarian who lives in Maryland.

17 thoughts on “Social climbing

  1. johngjobling@googlemail.com'
    malty
    August 11, 2011 at 09:21

    Another excellent letter from America Rita, ever interesting, the doings in the ex colonies since slavery was abolished. Social stigma is a thing that we Geordies are born with, anyone visiting Tyneside with an English accent is considered a toff, the Geordie definition of which is anyone not drawing benefit.
    Perhaps the American adoration of the twang is only east of the Pecos, the Hollywood movers and shakers seem to consider it butler territory or the Mancunian accent home helpish.
    Norwegian friends living in Oregon for a while had some hilarious experiences with their accents and the fact that the Americans were unfamiiar with geography outwith their own shores.

    Accent like music, a subjective thing, my own personal preference is the one from Alabama, could listen all day.

  2. wormstir@gmail.com'
    August 11, 2011 at 09:54

    Had similar experiences in Australia, my english accent was very popular. Do the yanks have the same admiration for cornish, scouse and brummie accents I wonder? Or is it just for well spoken english only

  3. andrewnixon@blueyonder.co.uk'
    August 11, 2011 at 10:04

    Didn’t poor Cheryl Cole’s experience suggest that Geordie is the Accent Too Far for Americans?

    But yes, from my experience of visits to the US it is undeniable that you get a certain amount of fawning for having a British accent (I have a generic southern English one).

    People tend to hang on your every word, or stare at you in slight disbelief, as if your voice is a clever party trick. That and eating with a knife in your right hand and a fork in your left at the same time, instead of the (as far as I can tell, universal) American habit of cutting things up, putting down knife and then using fork in right hand to transfer grub to mouth.

  4. jameshamilton1968@googlemail.com'
    James Hamilton
    August 11, 2011 at 10:04

    I don’t know how anyone else feels about it, but any opportunity to get out of the English class obsession… sounds like complete bliss. Especially if it comes with automatic promotion to the top of the tree.

  5. Worm
    August 11, 2011 at 10:47

    Interesting though that whilst they love our accent they also use posh accented British actors to play the nasty kinky baddies in many of their movies…

  6. george.jansen55@gmail.com'
    George
    August 11, 2011 at 13:03

    It has always been my impression (as an American) that most of us cannot tell Cockney from Oxbridge. I idly wonder now and then whether all those years of BBC comedies on TV haven’t tuned the ears a bit.

    • johngjobling@googlemail.com'
      malty
      August 11, 2011 at 13:43

      George, The BBC now follows the cocksbridge school of speech, luminaries such as E.Balls MP have it off to a tee.

    • bugbrit@live.com'
      Banished To A Pompous Land
      August 11, 2011 at 14:17

      While I think I’m pretty good with the accents of my fellow Brits, now I’m over here in the colonies I have to admit I struggle to tell one American accent from another. There are a few exceptions such as Boston and points North East and the weird and wonderful world of Nordic Americans. But living in Virginia I really struggle to differentiate anything South and/or West.

      Then again half the people I meet think I’m an Aussie

  7. rory@peritussolutions.com'
    roryoc
    August 11, 2011 at 13:13

    It seems to be a colonial hangover, maybe the Geordies & Scousers didn’t colonise as much as the Londoners. Alan Rickman has done well out of it.
    The posh “Sliema Ladies” in Malta speak with hilarious English-aristo accents.

    My Irish accent has tended to invoke pats on the head and jokes about potatoes over the years in the UK, its reception in Scotland is usually very warm – something to do with an assumption of a common enemy (by the Catholics I presume).

  8. Frank Key
    August 11, 2011 at 14:25

    The kneejerk anti-Americanism of a certain type of English chattering class “progressive” mindset – think Harold Pinter – also leads to the “oh but of course we don’t mean you” tactic. More than once I’ve heard blithely-delivered views on the inherent vulgarity and stupidity of all Americans delivered in front of my Californian partner, without any inference that she might be included. I think the idea is that she has somehow exempted herself by showing the good sense of coming to live in England.

  9. johngjobling@googlemail.com'
    malty
    August 11, 2011 at 19:58

    Best man at a Norwegian friends wedding they held the entire doings in English, as my Norwegian consists of ‘Oslo. and ‘takk’, ain’t that nice, lovely mob the Norgies, except the brides mother, a formidable old broad about the size of the Trollveggen. (thats the Troll wall), she adopted a pet lip, I offered to do the twist with her and discovered that she spoke German, off we went, best of mates, then her fourth husband developed a shit face, man, Norwegian weddings, who would have ’em, about time all of the foreign Johnie’s learned the lingo, in any accent.

    • andrewnixon@blueyonder.co.uk'
      August 11, 2011 at 21:14

      Priceless.

  10. sambyrne0@gmail.com'
    Sam Byrne
    August 11, 2011 at 22:23

    Chico McDonald’s, asking a young lady working there for some condiments:

    Me: Can I have some BBQ sauce please?

    McD: Yea but they’re 50cents each.

    Me: Ok sure

    McD: Wait, Oh my god, say that again!

    Me: BBQ Sauce?

    McD: Oh my God, just take them all, Oh Wow, anything else you need sir?

    Like….Royalty

    • sambyrne0@gmail.com'
      Sam Byrne
      August 11, 2011 at 22:23

      Great read Rita, Lots of Love x

      • Ritatull@comcast.net'
        Rita
        August 12, 2011 at 01:09

        And I saw what happened when you added in the Royal Marines uniform!

  11. lnavidi@yahoo.com'
    Lisa
    August 13, 2011 at 21:42

    Just reading this with your accent in my head reminds me…Can you retape the library hours please? It always sounds better coming from you

  12. scott@lugos.name'
    August 16, 2011 at 18:39

    “Class is calibrated on one measure only, the Almighty Dollar Sign, accent be damned.”

    Untrue. Class in America has a lot to do with the nature of your work, the place you live, where you went to college and how well you adhere to the folkways of the ruling class of upper middles who went to Harvard. It’s enormously complex and fairly impermeable, and only has a little bit to do with money. Paul Fussel wrote the best book on the subject for Americans. It’s woefully out of date, and gets “class x” wrong (they’re just a new version of upper middles), but it gives the basic idea.

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