Lauren Schellenberg
I have no use for my anglophone accent. Late into the night I watch French television shows, whispering the lines over and over to myself. Piece by piece I am replacing my anglo turns of phrase with their French equivalents. The changes are usually small, for example:
J’aimerais un café, svp becomes je prends un café, svp
Ta sœur est belle changes to elle est belle, ta sœur
And je suis ici becomes je suis là
My French is an old car that I’ve been fixing up bit by bit – I’ve reached a point now where it looks pretty good if I drive by quickly. In short conversations I can pass as a francophone. Of course, the illusion decays as I continue to speak, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Shop keepers and waiters no longer switch to English when they hear me speak, even if I make a mistake. People don’t slow down when they talk to me or stop mid-sentence to define words for me. I feel like they’ve let me in.
Continue reading “Passing”