I’m demanding a rebrand of my accent

I’d like to re-brand the Nova Scotia accent! And, for more selfish reasons, hurry things along for Cape Breton.

For too long, the nasally, back-pallet pitch of the Cape Breton accent has been fairly-universally seen (heard?) as the worst among the many of Canada’s often-mocked litany of accents. This too, despite the similarities between Cape Bretoners and our fellow Newfoundlanders (who consistently rank higher on the accent sexy scales. Yes, a real thing.).

But have you fully considered what our accent — with it’s aye’s and by’es aplenty that no one shall asunder — truly represents? Because, my God! It’s beautiful, really!

Distinct from coast to coast

Across Nova Scotia, research shows that there are basically three, distinct accents: Cape Breton, Halifax and the South Shore (with variations in each group). Each can trace its “lineage” so-to-speak to a unique source in and around the same time period — and on a global scale not all that long ago. For the South Shore, it was American Planters and Loyalists. For Halifax, it was the English and for Cape Breton — who I personally think is the coolest — it’s a mixture of Scottish and Irish. Our Historically Black communities also add in another interesting and very complicated layer.

Today, across the province, we have new versions of those origin accents that were formed as the dominant accents were influenced by and meshed with the Mi’kmaq, Black Loyalist, Italian and Eastern European accents that increased in those areas over time (to name a few).

What that all boils down to today, is that while we don’t sound British, Bostonian, Scottish or Irish (as much as I would love an accent that doesn’t cause people to giggle at the way I say bagel, tour and so many other words) our accents are clearly cousins. We still have bits of the originals that keep us distinct today. It’s like vocal DNA.

You can see/hear it in how someone from the South Shore says car, how someone from Halifax says couch, and how someone from Cape Breton says just about anything when being interviewed on the news (it cannot be just me who wonders this?! And who can forget the “Awesome Binder” kid from the North Sydney Mall commercials in the 90’s?”). I digress.

Meaning: there’s hope for our oft-disrespected collection of Nova Scotian accents yet. It’s also high time we launched a formal rebrand here and abroad.

So, to really zero in on Cape Breton here, this is an accent that came with thousands of Scottish and and Irish immigrants — many of whom were driven out of their own countries and weren’t really welcome here in Nova Scotia then either (clearly, it wasn’t called Nova Scotia yet. That comes in 1621. It was known (and is still known) by the Mi’Kmaq as Mi’Kma’ki, Acadia by the French and as part of New England by the British. There was also an L’Isle Royale for a time. I’ll admit this glazes over an awful lot).

For so many reasons (not the least of which was access to educational opportunities and the resulting decline in literacy skills) the language of people of Scottish/Irish descent became more and more an oral language. A distinct difference from the originals.

What’s more, with the added layer of religion and what was and wasn’t condoned, the closely-related and mutually comprehensible Gaelic languages were suddenly not as available as they once were. This forced these groups to use another common language — in this case, English — though still drawing in frequent Scottish and Irish expressions, refrains, the lilt, and some jaunty turns-of-phrase. Like how we say baddery as opposed to battery. The Scots and Irish do too. B’ye from boy. Even the the most frequent question asked on Cape Breton Island can easily find it’s origins in Scottish and Irish immigrant’s need for community rebuilding: “What’s yer fadder’s name?” Again, another distinct difference.

Watered down

I was once told that the Cape Breton accent was a watered down version of the Scottish and Irish accents. I believed that sentiment for so long. In essence: they’d been away from “home” for so long that today we just don’t wield our accents with the same strength.

Recently though, I’ve realized that’s so wrong, it’s comical. It’s an explanation that completely forgets the grit that was required in the face of life altering change upon life altering change.

A grit, I argue, that’s evidenced by the uniqueness of our accent today.

It’s also an explanation that fully ignores that the accent is at least two, full languages removed from the originals (Scottish/Irish Written (therefore structured) to Largely Oral to English without Gaelic to Written with recognition of distinct dialect). It’s like saying I’m a watered-down version of my great grandmother. Sure, there are many similarities, but we are fully distinct.

Slightly off-topic, but thematically interesting and very relevant to my case: you know that distinctly Cape Breton fiddle noise that really gets ya stompin’? That’s uniquely us in the exact same way. On Wikipedia is says, “The strong downbeat pulse is driven by the fiddler's heel into the floor” and I feel that physically. I also want to be on the dance floor at a Cape Breton wedding immediately.

Legacy of language

What I want to see is for our accent to be given this same kind of passion. I want it to be more broadly seen as linguistically complex and wholly exceptional. I want it to be envied like we do so many European accents. After all, it’s an accent born of a need to “rise again” (and then again) in the face of terrible odds. An accent that still holds remnants of the plight of the Scottish and Irish settlers in how (and why) things are said. An accent that — in its enduring strength (you may say thickness) hundreds of years on — demonstrates the love that the settlers had for our shores. And, in that same way, an accent that drips with the resolve it took to press on into the unknown and unfamiliar.

Our accent is the result of thousands of men, women, and children who came to Nova Scotia to build new lives, when their home was no longer an option. They rebuilt so much of that home here. As many things changed, they held tight to everything that they could. They kept only what was truly important. Our accent is part of this legacy.

It’s time to celebrate this fact. It’s also time that we, as Nova Scotians, come to see our accent as a power that we can wield (you know, like how all people with posh British accents seem super smart automatically).

Think about all that our accent could signal if we just changed our perspective.

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Photo: https://www.novascotia.com/trip-ideas/stories/top-photo-spots-cape-breton