As is the case for many people who grew up in the Deep South but have lived somewhere else for many years, the Southern accent I once had has given way to the “nowhere man” accent that I think of as generically American. But it comes roaring back when I visit my family in central Alabama, and even lingers for a few days after I have returned to Brooklyn. It’s also a little more pronounced after a martini (or two).
No one gets offended when my Southern accent comes and goes. For Kamala Harris, it’s a different story. Figures on the political right, including JD Vance, Donald Trump and various conservative internet celebrities, have accused Ms. Harris of affecting a Southern accent on the campaign trail, and implied that it was a kind of deception.
Ms. Harris, who is not from the South, wasn’t using a Southern accent, though. As John McWhorter has recently pointed out, what Ms. Harris was slipping into was Black English. There’s nothing unusual about her using Black English because to state the obvious (to everyone except Donald Trump, apparently) Ms. Harris is Black.
So what’s really bothering Republicans? The answer has nothing to do with linguistic purity. It has everything to do with cultural stereotypes — and electoral math.
Studies show that people with Southern accents are often regarded as less intelligent, even by people who have those accents themselves. It’s a learned bias that begins at a young age. There’s also a class bias; people associate deeper Southern accents with lower income, an impression that can translate into wage discrimination and fewer opportunities for professional advancement — one of many reasons people with accents may work consciously to eliminate them.
When the speaker is white, some people hear a Southern accent as a marker of racism or other forms of intolerance. “The South did not invent racism,” the country musician B.J. Barham recently told me, “but every single racist thing you’ve ever seen said in the movie usually comes with this accent.” For Mr. Barham, who has very progressive views and a deep North Carolina twang, the result is that fans who have heard his voice and seen his camo hat sometimes assume he has a certain set of political views — then get upset when they realize he’s playing a song about the dangers of toxic masculinity or about abortion rights.