A new book by linguistics professor Valerie Fridland explores the power behind the way we speak. In Why We Talk Funny: the Real Story Behind Our Accents, Fridland argues that humans instinctively use accents to categorize those around us. 'We learn to recognize other people as being like us through the way that they sound,' she says. This process begins early: studies show that small children favor peers who share their accent when choosing friends.
In one study, five- and six-year-olds in Toronto were shown pairs of children on a computer screen—one with a local Canadian accent and one with a British accent. When asked who they wanted to be friends with, they chose the local accent, despite daily exposure to a wide range of accents.
Accent-based judgments can lead to serious problems, fueling stereotypes about class, ethnicity, and regional background. These biases affect high-stakes scenarios such as job interviews, where a posher accent might be deemed more capable than a working-class one. They can also influence assumptions about political leanings: a study found that subjects assume politicians with southern accents are making conservative arguments. Even jury reactions can be affected, as Fridland believes happened in the trial of George Zimmerman.
Fridland, a linguistics professor at the University of Nevada, Reno, grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, with French-accented parents. 'Being surrounded by people who were very aware of outsider opinions of their accents primed me from a young age to be curious about why they were such markers of identity,' she says.
Accent discrimination has ancient roots, appearing even in the Old Testament. The Gileadites identified enemy Ephraimites by demanding they pronounce the word 'shibboleth,' with fatal consequences if they got it wrong. 'We often have kneejerk reactions to accents because we don't understand their value,' Fridland says. Developing this understanding can help combat prejudice.
Our awareness of accents begins almost at birth. By about one year old, babies have figured out the sounds prevalent in their languages. Research shows one-year-olds respond to sounds in their languages but not to absent ones. Over the next few years, they pick up language from parents and others. However, it is not until around age five that their own accents truly emerge. At that age, children lose interest in parental speech and turn to peers, which accelerates accent development.
This explains why an American child with French-accented parents, like Fridland, ends up sounding like peers rather than parents. When the reverse occurs, it stands out. Fridland recalls a childhood show-and-tell where she described her teddy bear as 'yuge' instead of 'huge,' leading to a year of aggressively pronouncing 'H' and earning a reputation as 'the girl with the spitting habit.'
Accent differences are rooted in history. American English tends to be rhotic—pronouncing 'R' before consonants and at word endings like 'hard' and 'car'—while many British speakers do not. This is because dropping the 'R' became fashionable in London only after the first American colonies were founded, fueled by rapid social change in the 19th century.
Once formed, accents are extremely difficult to change, especially in adulthood. Learning a new language requires creating novel sounds that may be hard to hear, let alone reproduce. For example, English speakers often struggle with Swahili's 'mb' sound, adding a vowel where none exists. Spanish never starts words with 'st,' so native Spanish speakers may add a vowel to words like 'student.' Additionally, imitating prosody—rhythms, tones, and stresses—is crucial. Americans typically increase duration and loudness on highlighted words and lower pitch at sentence ends, while Mandarin is syllable-timed with tone affecting meaning.
Even within one's own language, changing accents is challenging. An American moving to Surrey is unlikely to sound truly English; instead, they may develop a 'blended dialect.' Fridland explains that long-term residents of a new dialect area show speech accommodation, moving closer to local norms without fully replicating them. This effect intensifies with social integration. For instance, writer Bill Bryson, who grew up in the US but spent most of his adulthood in the UK, exhibits this phenomenon. Even within a conversation, speech can converge in pitch, accent, and vocabulary.
Given the deep roots of accents, judging people by them is unfair—yet we do, consciously or unconsciously. In the George Zimmerman trial, the prosecution's key witness, Rachel Jeantel, had a strong African American Vernacular English (AAVE) accent. Linguists John R Rickford and Sharese King noted that Jeantel testified for six hours but was largely dismissed as incomprehensible and not credible, and was reportedly not mentioned in jury deliberations. 'In a sense, Jeantel's dialect was found guilty as a prelude to and contributing element in Zimmerman's acquittal,' they wrote.
Similar cases have occurred in the UK. A study last year found that people with working-class accents were more likely to be suspected of crimes. 'There's a really good, solid body of literature that suggests that having a non-standard accented speaker or heavily regionally accented speaker can influence credibility ratings of jurors and, in fact, increase attribution of guilt,' Fridland says.
However, simple measures can minimize these harms. Recognizing biases is a crucial first step. Studies show benefits when employers focus on a person's innate capabilities rather than their speech. A simple desire not to appear biased can mitigate prejudice. Linguists have also developed jury instructions to reduce bias.
Ultimately, Fridland emphasizes that the way we talk is rooted in a universal experience: we all start with the same equipment—mouths and minds—driven by the need for social belonging. 'Most people are genuine in wanting to be better listeners,' she says. 'There are some assholes out there, but the majority of people, I think, given the right tools, want to do better.'
