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Where do pretty girls get their bandanas and headscarves? They seem to be quite in style, and I’m finding myself cycling between the same red and yellow ones Meera already has. I love finding new alternatives to what to do with my hair when it’s super greasy but I want to wash it later other than a ponytail or a hat. Then again, I’m not new to this — I’m true to this.

I finally returned to the gym after not going for almost a month. Before that, I danced to Arabic music on a boat and learned that those anti-nausea patches work. Before that, I helped Ryan move. I always feel so incompetent when helping people do big tasks like that and just felt extra weak this time.

I realized upon coming home and ordering a Cwunch Wap Supweme as a dinner reward for helping Ryan move when Meera asked me what I had for lunch that I not only didn’t eat all day, but I completely forgot that I didn’t eat all day. Every now and again I forget to eat lunch and realize around 3 or 4 p.m. limbo time and reassess. However, never once have I completely forgotten to eat in every way. It was a busy day at work, and I guess thought I would eat after finishing something and just kept having new things to do. It’s not even like as soon as Meera asked I realized that I didn’t eat; I had to really think for a long time and even checked the garbage can for evidence of some food container. Scary!

Sometimes when trying to figure out a newsletter topic, I think to myself What’s something I really like? Or even What’s something I really hate? One thing about me: I love an accent.

Yesterday, I went to my friend Ikram’s unfortunately beautiful Crown Heights apartment her landlord is kicking everyone out of to make room for richer people. We cooled the house by enjoying an evening on the back patio, stuffing our faces with Trader Joes snacks and getting bit by mosquitos.

At some point in conversation, I don’t remember what the sentence was, my normally accentless friend Christina said something like I almost got lockjaw. However, the Jersey popped all the way out when she said lockjaw. Imagine a thick New Jersey accent only on the word lockjaw. We all screamed. She was almost horrified at herself and what was bursting out of her.

It was beautiful. We were comfortable, fully relaxed hours into hanging out. The truth sprouted out of her.

The Boston accent exists but is dying. You don’t hear it as often in the city as you do in towns outside of it. It’s mostly attached to older generations dropping Rs or mixing up their As and Os. However, Massachusetts natives of all ages have a few words that stick out. Meera sometimes snaps her Rs or emphasizes As in words like era or carriage.

One of the first times I ever really got to enjoy the feast of accents our country has to offer was at Jewish sleepaway camp the summer before sophomore year of high school. I remember my friend Shosh’s incredible Chicago accent, Midwest dominance amongst a predominantly coastal elite crowd with their own ways of speaking.

Jews themselves have their own accent. It’s predominantly heard in the tri-state area, especially on Long Island or in Westchester County, but you can hear it anywhere there are Jews. It’s influenced by Yiddish speakers that came to this country and generations later cannot fully shake their speech patterns. Girls add vocal fry, and the sway of names like Andy Cohen cannot be replicated by gentiles.

The Jersey accent is similarly nasal-y but packs a bit more depth. Not that Jews are monotone, but I think Jersey natives speak with a bit more range. Single syllables can be drawn out into multiple sounds. I’m always charmed by how my friend Vanessa says the word me.

Now we get into Philly territory. Yes, the accent is similar, but there is more grit. It’s deeper, colder. It’s meant to be heard on a front porch in the winter. Even the word Philadelphia is almost a grumble when spoken by a Philly native or, even better, a Delco native.

Although plenty of well-meaning idiots mix up Philadelphia and Pittsburgh (and their accents), they are totally different. The Pittsburgh accent is gentler and sounds like a 70s wood-lined basement. Instead of saying you guys like normal people or youse like Philly natives, Pittsburghers say yinz.

The Pittsburgh accent is so distinct that we call it Pittsburghese. Although it is often called the ugliest accent in the country, Pittsburghers embrace how we talk. It’s all over merch and menus and our general town identity. Our As are ahhhs like in downtown (dahntahn); our Os are awws like the name Donnie (Dawwnie).

I grew up with two very different parents that handled their accents and identities very differently. I lived in an affluent, white suburb. The Pittsburgh accent does not discriminate on race but is more prominent in white people because of its roots in Central Europeans immigrating to work in steel mills (still as we’d say in Pittsburgh, like Stillers instead of Steelers). It also doesn’t discriminate on wealth, but it is nevertheless more associated with poor white people. Both of my parents grew up in neighboring suburbs poorer than Mt. Lebanon that looked to the one I grew up in as cake-eaters (true). My brother and I didn’t really grow up around a ton of kids with the accent. They might have a hint of it or their parents did.

My dad’s whole family has been in Pittsburgh for generations, so they have the accent and also love being Pittsburghers in general. The accent isn’t as strong in my dad compared to other Pittsburghers, but when he is around his family, he reverts to his true Pittsburgh nature. My mom and I would poke fun at him for this code switching sometimes.

My mom is a generational hater and wishes she had more opportunities to get her out of Pittsburgh. Her mom is a Libyan Jewish immigrant with an accent of her own that has never and will never fade — and she is even more of a generational hater. My mom doesn’t have any accent and prides herself in her ability to blend anywhere. However, if she is imitating someone she knows with the accent, she can tap right into it.

Pittsburghese is more than an accent — it’s a lifestyle. My mom has told me this same story multiple times of being at a dinner party and hearing from a non-Pittsburgher lady that married a Pittsburgh guy. She marveled upon and crapped on how classless that Pittsburghers speak, using our grammatical errors as evidence. Her example was how Pittsburghers drop to be after the word needs. Instead of saying That needs to be cleaned, Pittsburghers say That needs cleaned.

I thought I didn’t have an accent at all, but I’ve learned from people since I’ve left Pittsburgh that I do, in fact, have the accent. It comes out when I’m really passionate, tired, or drunk. Usually, it comes out in my Os, especially if I’m goin’ dahn somewhere. I also am a frequent to be dropper after needs.

When I first learned this about myself, I was a bit embarrassed and frustrated. I cannot escape my roots even though I was such a snob there! This isn’t a posh London accent. People might hear me and think I’m provincial or classless. At least hear the words I’m saying to make that judgement instead of how I say it!

No one is allowed to crap on my hometown but me, and I really started leaning into some form of Pittsburgh pride once I got to college in Boston and had to compete with coastal elites of coasts all over the world. I’ve started to embrace (still have not fully embraced) my accent quirks.

I pride myself on my voice and how I can use it to get what I want, which is a great improvement from pre-speech therapy Sydney in middle school struggling through her Sh, Ch, and J sounds. I’m trying to see my Pittsburgh accent slips as part of my vocal charm the way I automatically see it from the accents of other people in my life.

When I go home, I don’t think people think I have an accent. Mine is like a 1 or 2 on a scale of 1 to total yinzer. Too stuck up for Pittsburgh, too Pittsburgh for the rest of the world.

It’s easier for me to learn to love my accent because so many other people I love have incredible accents. I love hearing my Nonna’s accent and also confuse provincial waitstaff at every restaurant. Despite years of talking to her, my body refuses to imitate it. Maybe out of respect? I can totally imitate her intonation, though.

In other times that I’m around the same accent a lot, though, I totally code switch without knowing it. When I was in Italy with Italian-speaking family a few summers ago, I started speaking English in the way they did, even my own name like SEED-nee. In Spain with my multinational crew, I found myself adopting some sort of international accent with different intonations than I usually do. My favorite accent of all, Miami, is so easy to slide into with my friend Nat and her 305 compatriots. There is nothing more satisfying than a Miami-accented bro, no way!

Code-switching with people in your in-group is deeply gratifying, like people of the same minority in a corporate workplace that get to drop their white guy-approved jobspeak. I love learning when someone else is gay so I can really lean into that way of talking. However, I subconsciously find myself code-switching in short interactions with service industry people, especially when I make it to the front of the line of a deli or restaurant. I think I do this to make people comfortable, slowing down and mellowing out how I talk.

When I catch myself doing this, though, I really hope I’m not channeling my dad saying Hey brotha most time he interacts with a Black person. I doubt he knows he’s doing that and I bet it doesn’t come from a bad place even though it is deeply embarrassing to be around. Or worse — I remember when my Dominican friend’s ex would imitate her and give her a thick accent, which she as a first-gen legend does not have. Straight up racist!

I think code-switching has great intentions but doesn’t always land. Then again, I don’t speak the way people are clamoring to speak. I guess it’s all about reading the room and making sure that you’re still sounding like you, that you can call your grandma on the phone and sound the same. Tons of white queer people slip into Black lady dialects because that’s how a lot of gay people talk and they want to fit with the group, but I’m sure they wouldn’t sound the same at a family party.

This is another reason why we should continue to love our own accents, so that we sound like us and not like someone we aren’t. The world hosts a ton of great ways to talk, and it’s nice to listen to all of it. For those of you without accents, have you left your hometown long enough to know that’s the case? And if so, think about if you would have had a transatlantic accent back in the day. That isn’t a true call to action, just imagine what it would be like to speak that way. Wild, right?

I learned on Beehiiv I can include voice memos, so I’m including me trying to say all of these words. You’ll be able to hear that I can tap into an accent but that I’m not a true yinzer.

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