You likely learned this in high school English class, but do you remember what an idiom is? We’re not calling names — we’re talking about figurative language.
Did you know that you likely use idioms every day? The word “idiom” may sound like an element from the periodic table or a derisive term that you’d call a buffoon, but it’s actually an example of figurative language. Idioms are phrases that add color to conversation but are impossible to understand based solely on their literal meanings. Common examples include being “over the moon” and “killing two birds with one stone.” You probably understand these expressions because you’ve heard them a million times (an exaggeration, not quite an idiom), rather than because of how each individual word is defined.
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In a strictly literal usage, idioms rarely make sense. This makes it especially difficult for non-native speakers to understand the approximately 20,000 (and growing) idioms found in the English language. To properly comprehend an idiom, intent and context are required. The more those elements are understood, the more likely you are to wrap your head around these fantastical phrases.
Four types of idioms are commonly used in English. A pure idiom is an expression for which it is impossible to determine intent from the words alone. One example of a pure idiom would be telling someone to “break a leg” when you mean “good luck.” A binomial idiom is two words joined by a conjunction — for example, “black and blue” or “fair and square.” Next up are partial idioms, which occur when a pure idiom is so well known that only a portion of the phrase is required to be understood. One of the most common examples is saying “when in Rome” while leaving off the second half of the idiom: “do as the Romans do.” Lastly, prepositional idioms combine a verb and a preposition to create phrases such as “arrive in” or “report on.” While these expressions are grammatically flawed, we still understand them as idioms.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
We’ve all experienced déjà vu, but what about the opposite feeling of something familiar suddenly being completely unrecognizable? There’s a name for that, too.
The phenomenon of déjà vu — French for “already seen” — occurs when you walk into a new situation and find it oddly familiar, despite never having experienced it before. This unusual sensation can make your head spin until it dissipates in the blink of an eye. Most of us have experienced this before, but there’s another, lesser-known concept called jamais vu — it’s the exact opposite of déjà vu, in experience and literal translation, as it means “never seen” in French.
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Jamais vu occurs when you’re in a familiar situation but suddenly feel as if you’re experiencing it for the very first time. This might manifest as a brief mental hiccup in your daily routine. Imagine, for instance, you’re driving on the same road you take to work every day when all of a sudden you aren’t sure if you should turn left or right. Normally making the correct turn is muscle memory, but this brief moment of forgetfulness is a prime example of jamais vu. Verbal slips — such as when you have a word on the tip of your tongue, or you can’t remember the name of a colleague of five years — also fall under the umbrella of jamais vu. Similarly, take the word “shampoo” and repeat it 15 to 20 times until it sounds like it’s lost all meaning. Logically, you still know what shampoo is, but jamais vu swoops in when the word seems to become unfamiliar.
The best way to understand jamais vu is by viewing it as a glitch in the system. There’s nothing wrong with getting flustered from time to time, as everything should return to normal shortly. If you’re feeling forgetful, just take a deep breath and remind yourself that it’s probably nothing more than a moment of jamais vu.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
The practice of naming storms is hundreds of years old, going back to saints’ names. Let’s learn about how we got from Hurricane Santa Ana in 1825 to Hurricane Debby in 2024.
Can you imagine turning on the Weather Channel to get an update on Storm C/2020 f3 (as a comet discovered in 2020 was named)? It doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. Fortunately for reporters (and the people watching them), it has become standard to give major storms human names. This makes it easier to communicate about them, especially during critical news updates. The practice is hundreds of years old, but there’s an intriguing legacy behind it.
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The History of Naming Storms
A few hundred years ago, hurricanes in the West Indies were named after the Catholic saint’s day that lined up with the storm. For example, Hurricane Santa Ana landed in Puerto Rico on July 26, 1825. If storms hit on the same day in different years, names doubled up. Hurricane San Felipe I struck Puerto Rico on September 13, 1876, and then San Felipe II hit in 1928.
In the late 19th century, Australian meteorologist Clement Wragge began using names (specifically women’s names, mythical figures, and politicians he didn’t like) for tropical storms. The practice of using names in general was adopted by the U.S. Navy and Air Force during World War II when latitude and longitude identifications proved to be too cumbersome. Female names were again used, usually named after wives and girlfriends. United States weather services began using female names for storms in 1953, and later added male names to the list in 1979 after receiving criticism from women’s groups. This began the modern version of how we name storms.
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How Are Storms Named?
For a modern storm to be named, it must reach certain criteria, involving wind speed and rotation. Although the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s National Hurricane Center is the premier source for news about storms, this organization does not name them. Instead, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) does. The WMO is a specialized agency of the United Nations, headquartered in Switzerland, that focuses on weather, climate, and water resources. The WMO compiles lists of names for each of the three basins under its jurisdiction: Atlantic, Eastern North Pacific, and Central North Pacific. Countries outside of this jurisdiction have their own naming conventions. The WMO lists of storm names are cycled through every six years, meaning the list of names for the 2024 season will be used again in 2030. However, some names are retired, such as when a storm has been especially notable or destructive.
Each list contains 21 names that begin with a different letter of the alphabet (excluding “Q,” “U,” “X,” “Y,” “Z” because of the limited number of names). For the Atlantic basin, which includes the United States, names are typically chosen from English, French, and Spanish, because the countries impacted by storms in that area primarily speak one of those three languages.
The names are also selected at random and aren’t based on any real people. If your name is Alberto, don’t be shocked by Tropical Storm Alberto — rest assured that the WMO wasn’t thinking of you when the 2024 tropical storm was named.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
As of early August 2024, the Atlantic basin has seen Tropical Storm Alberto, Hurricane Beryl, Tropical Storm Chris, and Hurricane Debby. While these massive storms are no laughing matter, newscasters and neighbors might poke fun at the coincidence of “Debby” being the name of a colleague or aunt. So where do these commonplace storm names come from?
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A tropical storm can be named once it meets two criteria: a circular rotation and wind speeds of more than 39 mph. Once a storm reaches 74 mph, it becomes a hurricane, but it keeps the same name it was given as a tropical storm.
There is a bit of an art to naming modern-day storms. The World Meteorological Organization (WMO), a branch of the United Nations, is responsible for naming storms in the Atlantic, Eastern North Pacific, and Central North Pacific. All of the United States falls under this storm jurisdiction. The hurricane season runs from July 1 to November 20, and each year a list of 21 storm names (alphabetical, excluding the letters “Q,” “U,” “X,” “Y,” and “Z”) is released. The list is recycled every six years, so the list of names for the 2024 season will be used again in 2030, unless any names are retired for being especially destructive storms. Currently, there are 96 names on the retired Atlantic hurricane list, including Katrina (2004), Sandy (2012), and Matthew (2016).
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In the Atlantic basin, the names are typically English, French, and Spanish, and they aren’t based on any real people. In the 2024 season, we might meet Ernesto, Helene, Kirk, Leslie, Oscar, and, if we reach the end of the list, Valerie and William.
Formerly, if the full list of storm names was used up before the end of the season, any additional storms would be named after letters of the Greek alphabet — Alpha, Beta, Gamma, etc. This unusual event occurred for only the second time in storm-naming history during the 2020 storm season, as there were a total of 30 storms that met the criteria for naming.
In 2021, however, the WMO did away with the Greek alphabet, as the organization felt this naming convention was confusing (Zeta, Eta, and Theta came in quick succession in 2020). Instead, the WMO implemented two supplementary lists of more traditional-sounding names. However, there were only 21 Atlantic storms in 2021, 14 in 2022, and 20 in 2023, so those lists have not yet been needed.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
Y’all, All Y’all, and the Quest for a Second-Person Plural Pronoun
However you spell it, and however many people you’re referring to when you use it, “y’all” is a versatile and, some would say, better alternative to “you guys” or “you.”
In the United States, “you guys” is one of the most commonly used second-person pronoun references, but “y’all” is all the rage. While “y’all” is still heard primarily in the Southern United States and nationwide in African American Vernacular English (AAVE), its usage has been on a dramatic rise since the late 20th century.
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The increasing popularity of “y’all” can be attributed to a variety of factors, including the mainstream use of AAVE in media, as well as the fact that “y’all” is a preferable gender-neutral alternative to “you guys.” “Y’all” also rolls off the tongue in a softer, warmer way than “you guys” or even “you all.” For instance, “You guys come back tomorrow” sounds clunky and even vaguely threatening, while “Y’all come back tomorrow” may be perceived as both friendlier and more inviting.
The correct spelling places an apostrophe between the “y” and the “a,” as it’s a contraction of “you” and “all.” The pronoun got a nod from Dictionary.com in the summer of 2021 when it gave “y’all” its own entry, separate from “you-all.” The entry notes the word “now communicates an informal tone more than a regional identity, and one that has become popular among younger demographics for its inclusivity.”
Times Are Changing for "Y’all"
As far as American Southernisms go, the second-person pronoun “y’all” is probably among the most familiar. The use of “y’all” in a movie or TV show is a quick signifier of a character’s place of origin. How and when this contraction for “you all” came to the Southern U.S. is a little murky, however. Once believed to be a fairly recent neologism native to Southern American English, “y’all” has actually been around quite a bit longer than lexicographers previously realized. The second edition of the Oxford English Dictionary dated the term to 1909, but in fact it was first used in the 1631 poem “The Faire Aethiopian” by English poet William Lisle:
The captiue men of strength I gaue to you, The weaker sold; and this y’all know is true, The free-borne women ransom’d, or set free For pittie sake, the seruile sort had yee.
Thanks to digitized databases, we now know “y’all” existed outside of the United States prior to its first appearance there in the early 19th century. Its usage in the Southern United States has been linked to Scots-Irish immigrants and their use of the second-person plural pronoun “ye aw.” Other linguists believe “y’all” is rooted in early African American vernaculars or African English Creole. It’s likely a combination, as both Scots-Irish immigrants and enslaved African Americans were living and interacting in the same regions at the same time. In any case, there’s no doubt that “y’all” has since become the most identifiable feature of the Southern American English dialect.
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A Catch-All Second-Person Pronoun
There was a time when early Standard English had both a singular and plural set of second-person pronouns. “Thou” and “thee” were singular, while “ye” and, maybe confusingly, “you” were plural. Over time, however, “ye” and “you” began serving as formal singular pronouns when speaking to someone of high prestige or importance, such as the clergy or aristocracy. As people shifted between “ye” and “you” and “thou” and “thee” based on whom they were speaking to, “you” and “ye” eventually merged into just “you,” while “thou” and “thee” vanished from conversation entirely.
“You” can still be used as a singular or plural pronoun, but other terms have slipped into various regional dialects, including “you guys,” “you lot,” “you ones,” “you’uns,” “yinz,” “yous,” “youse,” “you all,” and “y’all.” In England, “you lot” is the American version of “you guys.” The Scottish say “you ones,” which found its way into Appalachia as “you’uns.” Travel north of Appalachia into Pittsburgh and western Pennsylvania, and you’re likely to hear a shorter version of “you’uns” in “yinz.” In New York City, you might hear “yous” (also spelled “youse”) or “youse guys.”
Interestingly, none of these second-person pronouns — including “y’all” — is considered Standard English. Why? Linguists point to the stigmatization of the people who tend to use these pronouns: people from the South, people of color, and people from poor rural and poor urban areas.
Y'all and All Y'all
There’s some debate about whether “y’all” can be used as a singular second-person pronoun (to refer to a single person, rather than a group), but linguists have already documented “y’all” being used that way. So, if “y’all” can refer to a single person OR a group of people, is there a need to pluralize it further? Some people say yes — and “all y’all” is the answer. So, while “y’all” may refer to an indeterminate number of people, “all y’all” refers to everyone who is being addressed.
Featured image credit: Andy Dean Photography/ Shutterstock
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
We see these letters all the time at museums, in history books, and on the clock — “A.D.,” “CE,” “UTC,” “EST” — but what do they mean? These abbreviations denote dates and times, and in some cases, may describe the exact same thing (A.D. and CE, for example). This might sound confusing, but once you learn the origins of these date and time abbreviations and what they stand for, they’re a lot easier to remember.
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A.M. and P.M.
A few countries, namely the United States, Canada, and Australia, use the 12-hour clock instead of the 24-hour clock, which means there are two instances of each hour every day — 6:00, for example, occurs in both the morning and the evening. This results in a need to differentiate between the two halves of a 24-hour period (morning versus night), so the abbreviations “a.m.” and “p.m.” were created. The origin of these abbreviations is simple — “a.m.” stands for the Latin phrase ante meridiem, meaning “before noon,” while “p.m.” is short for post meridiem, the Latin phrase for “after noon.” The 24-hour clock — which is used throughout the rest of the world, in the American military system, and in some other industries that require worldwide coordination — has no need for such abbreviations.
B.C. and A.D.
“B.C.” and “A.D.” are the oldest date abbreviations still in use. “B.C.” stands for “before Christ,” as in, before the birth of Jesus Christ, a central figure in Christianity. “A.D.” stands for anno Domini, meaning “in the year of the Lord” in Latin. There is no year zero in this system — 1 A.D. was the year Christ was born, and 1 B.C. was the year before he was born.
It is unknown when this naming system first came into use, but the terms were adopted separately — “A.D.” was in use centuries before “B.C.” By the eighth century, “A.D.” was used regularly in English church documents and charters, and its use quickly spread throughout Western Europe in the ninth century. “B.C.” took much longer to catch on. There were variants of the “before” part leading up to the 18th century, when “B.C.” finally became mainstream.
Although the B.C./A.D. system took a while to become standardized, it smoothed out a lot of calendar confusion. Before this dating system, years were centered around significant events, such as the reigns of emperors and kings, which left room for a lot of misinterpretation and errors. The B.C./A.D. system was the first to account for every single year in such a uniform way.
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BCE and CE
A modern answer for the B.C./A.D. system is the use of BCE/CE, which counts years in essentially the same way as the former style. These secular abbreviations stand for “Before Common Era” and “Common Era,” but they are tied to the same periods of the Christian dating method.
The BCE/CE system has been around since the 18th century, used by various English scholars and writers. In the 17th century, before the new system caught on, “Vulgar Era” was used instead of “Common Era.” In Latin, “vulgar” means “common,” not “crude.” However, “Vulgar Era” didn’t stick, and “BCE” and “CE” have become increasingly popular.
Both B.C./A.D. and BCE/CE are still in use, but certain style guides will dictate which version to use. The BCE/CE system has become more popular in the last few decades as a way to be more inclusive in academic and secular writing, but B.C./A.D. is still widely accepted.
UTC and GMT
A map of the world’s time zones will include ranges of numbers (from one through 14), plus or minus a certain number of hours from the UTC +0 zone. “UTC” stands for “Coordinated Universal Time.” This standard zone for regulating clocks is located on the prime meridian, which is the zero-degree longitudinal line. Iceland, England, Spain, Liberia, and Ghana are located within this zone. Moving to the east, each time zone goes up +1 from UTC, and moving west, each zone goes down -1 from UTC. For example, New York City is within the UTC -4 time zone (and also called the EST zone, but we’ll get to that later).
UTC goes by a few other names, including the obsolete “Greenwich Mean Time” (GMT) and “Zulu Time” in the American military. It was called Greenwich Mean Time from 1884 to 1972, when UTC took its place, because of the location of the Royal Observatory Greenwich in England, from which modern time was standardized. The word “mean” came about because GMT was calculated from the average of the times the sun crossed the prime meridian at the observatory in Greenwich. “Zulu Time” (still in use in the military) is based on this system — GMT was “zero meridian,” and the letter “z” in the military is “Zulu.”
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U.S. Time Zones
Each time zone within the United States has its own UTC designation, but it also has its own local time zone name. There are six time zones within the United States: From east to west, they are Eastern Standard Time (EST), Central Standard Time (CST), Mountain Standard Time (MST), Pacific Standard Time (PST), Alaskan Standard Time (AKST), and Hawaii-Aleutian Standard Time (HST). The Hawaii-Aleutian zone gets its name from Hawaii and the Aleutian Islands in Alaska, both of which fall under this zone, while the rest of Alaska is under Alaskan Standard Time.
There are an additional three time zones in U.S. territories, including Atlantic Standard Time (AST) in Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands, Samoa Standard Time (UTC-11) in American Samoa, and Chamorro Standard Time (UTC+10) in Guam. The Chamorro people are an Indigenous group from the Mariana Islands, where Guam is located.
The next time you’re looking at a confusing list of acronyms attached to a calendar invite, remember these origins and decipher the correct date and time.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
Even Famous Writers and Historical Figures Make Grammar Blunders
There’s something giggle-inducing about stumbling across a grammatical error in print. Whatever the reason, here are some famous grammatical gaffes worth remembering.
There’s something giggle-inducing about stumbling across a grammatical error in print, whether it’s a headline with the wrong word or a famous writer misspelling “Mississippi.” Maybe it’s because it reminds us that these powerful figures are human, just like us. Or maybe it’s because we know how easy it is to mix up common English words like “your” and “you’re.” Whatever the reason, here are some famous grammatical gaffes worth remembering.
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Dan Quayle and the “Potatoe” Incident
There are some words that always take a second to spell correctly — for example, “millennial,” “judgment,” “definitely,” and “correspondence.” Then there’s “potato.” In 1992, then-Vice President Dan Quayle visited a local New Jersey school and invited one of the students to come up to the blackboard to write the word “potato.” The student grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote in cursive on the blackboard, “P-O-T-A-T-O.” After the student finished, Quayle had him add one more letter: “E.”
Thanks to the gaffe, the student, William Figueroa, went on David Letterman’s show and even earned a spot in the official potato museum. For Quayle, however, it was the misspelling heard ’round the world. He recounted the experience in his memoir, describing it as “a ‘defining moment’ of the worst imaginable kind.”
Constable Dogberry in Shakespeare’s "Much Ado About Nothing"
The Bard wasn’t just skillful at poetry and prose — he liked to create new words, such as “swagger” and “bandit,” when no existing terms would suffice. He alsohad characters use malapropisms, or incorrect words, usually for comedic effect. Take Constable Dogberry, the bumbling officer in Much Ado About Nothing. When leaving the royal court, he shouts, “Adieu: be vigitant, I beseech you.” The line always earns a laugh from vigilant audience members.
The term “Dogberryism” is a lesser-known synonym for “malapropism,” but the Shakespearean reference came first. Much Ado About Nothing was published in 1623, and “malapropism” came from a reference in a 1775 play.
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The Ten Commandments in the (Wicked) Bible
What a difference one word can make. One of the Christian Ten Commandments is “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” But in a 1631 printing of the Bible, the word “not”was missing, and the seventh commandment read, “Thou shalt commit adultery.” Most of the misprinted copies were gathered, burned, and destroyed (much to the chagrin of collectors today), and the printers of the Bible were fined 300 pounds — equivalent to over 50,000 GBP in today’s money — for the mistake.
Or was it a mistake? Some historians speculate the grammatical error was planned sabotage from a rival printer, because there is a second error. In a later section, a passage reads, “Behold, the Lord our God hath shewed us his glory and his great-asse,” instead of “greatnesse.” These two errors earned this printing of the Bible the nickname “The Wicked Bible.”
The Death of Yogi Bear in the Associated Press
Famous New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra is known for Hollywood-level quippy one-liners, such as “it’s deja vu all over again.” Some of Berra’s quips were malapropisms, or “Yogi-isms.” But the biggest mix-up came courtesy of the Associated Press after Berra died. In a 2015 press release announcing the beloved catcher’s passing, the outlet announced, “New York Yankees Hall of Fame catcher Yogi Bear has died. He was 90.”
To give some excuse to the AP, the cultural link between Yogi Bear and Yogi Berra is pretty strong — even if the creators insist the famous bear of Jellystone National Park wasn’t inspired by the ball player.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
The English language is full of twists and tricks wherever you look, but sometimes the quirks make sense if you look at the roots. English is influenced by foreign words and cultures, as well as shifts in society and technological advancements. Some words are just plain silly, though. Let’s take a look at some of the strangest, funniest, and most bizarre English words in the lexicon.
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Lollygag
To fool around, dawdle, or procrastinate
“Lollygag” was first documented as “lallygag” in 1862. The exact origins are unknown, but it likely came from merging the colloquial “lolly,”meaning “tongue,” and “gag,” or “trick.” Perhaps it was originally a tongue-twister, but now “lollygag” is a verb meaning “to dawdle or procrastinate.”
Quit lollygagging and get ready for school. We're leaving in 10 minutes!
Collywobbles
Stomachache, nausea
Here’s another one from the 1800s: “Collywobbles” is most likely a mashup of the not-so-fun “colic” (a medical condition involving severe abdominal pain) and the slightly-more-fun “wobble.” It’s basically the old-fashioned version of a tummy ache.
I have a big presentation this afternoon and I've had collywobbles all day.
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Diphthong
A linguistic phenomenon when two vowels work together in a word to produce a sound that neither of them makes on their own
Linguists started talking about diphthongs in the 15th century. Some prime examples of diphthongs in action are in the shifting vowel sounds of “sound,” “noise,” and “annoy.
Choir, hold the second vowel sound in the diphthong until the end of the note.
Gubbins
Gadgets or any bits and pieces
“Gubbins” might be more familiar to British English speakers. For example, across the pond, someone with a fancy new car might describe it as having “all the gubbins.” That mystery drawer in the kitchen could also be “full of gubbins.” The word, meaning “fragments” or “gadgets,” has been in use since the 16th century, but the definition of “miscellany” dates to the early 20th century.
I can't find anything in my purse because it's full of gubbins.
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Borborygmus
The sound of a stomach rumbling
Everyone has experienced borborygmus. This technical-sounding word is perhaps a more polite description for what you might call “tummy rumbles.” Let’s just hope your next borborygmus doesn’t lead to collywobbles.
Please excuse my borborygmus — I skipped lunch today.
Widdershins
Counterclockwise, a contrary direction
This 16th-century Scottish slang means “a direction contrary to the sun’s course, considered as unlucky.” It’s basically the original way of saying “counterclockwise,” or “in the wrong direction.”
Excuse me, I believe you're turning widdershins and you want to go that direction instead.
Hobbledehoy
A clumsy or awkward young person
The mid-16th century was a tough time. There was no running water, wars and religious disputes were breaking out all over Europe, and even tomatoes were thought to be poisonous. But times must have been particularly tough for teenagers — so much so that a new word was coined to describe the clumsiest of the bunch: “hobbledehoy.”
John was a hobbledehoy for a few years, but he's gained a lot of confidence in his twenties.
Mugwump
A person who is independent on the political spectrum
This term was adopted from the Algonguin word for great chief, “mugquomp,” but the evolution of the definition has been a bit of a rollercoaster. It became an insult for someone who considers themself to be very important, and was then used against independents in politics in the 1880s — but those independents embraced it. The Mugwumps were an unofficial party of activists in the 1880s who were against political corruption.
With all the mudslinging going around, I prefer to remain a mugwump.
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Troglodyte
A person who lived in a cave
In the prehistoric context, a troglodyte was someone who lived in a cave. The term can still be applied to a modern hermit, but they don’t have to reside in a cave. Additionally, you can probably imagine this being used as an insult in an ’80s comedy flick — “What a troglodyte!” In that usage, you’re calling someone deliberately ignorant or old-fashioned. It’s a fun word to say, but we’re of the opinion that if you can’t say anything nice, well, you know.
I don't want to date any troglodytes — I need someone who will go to the theater and concerts every weekend.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
Exploring the Linguistic Roots of the Southern Drawl
A person from Boston speaks differently than a person from New York City, to say nothing of the difference between Midwestern and Southern accents. While all of these are American, the roots of the Southern drawl have a unique colonial history.
While many countries have geographical differences in accents (for example, a posh London accent versus the rough-and-tumble Cockney accent), America’s various accents are particularly pronounced. A person from Boston speaks differently than a person from New York City, despite their relative geographic closeness, to say nothing of the difference between Midwestern and Southern accents. While all of these are American, the roots of the Southern drawl have a unique colonial history. Let’s examine what makes this distinctive accent so quintessentially American.
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Where the Southern Drawl Came From
Call it a drawl or a twang, but one of the primary hallmarks of Southern American English (SAE) is a melodic, relaxing quality. A marketing firm conducted a survey of global English accents, and the Southern accent was voted the most pleasant. (New York and Boston accents were voted the least pleasant — sorry, New Englanders.)
Some may attribute this laid-back melody to the slower, more relaxed pace of life the South is supposed to have compared to northern regions, but there’s more at play. The specific qualities of the Southern accent (and all accents) developed through the intersection of cultural exchange, geography, and evolving linguistics.
Importantly, there is more than one type of accent within SAE — Texans sound different than Virginians, who sound different than Louisianans. But they all share an origin story in the mingling of British colonists and enslaved Africans.
The final “r” sound in words such as “four” and “here” is very important to linguists. If speakers drop the final “r,” that’s called “non-rhotic” as opposed to “rhotic,” wherein the “r” is pronounced. In the mid-1700s in the plantation system, using non-rhotic speech to match upper-class British accents was considered “prestigious” speech (“prestigious” being a way linguists classify certain accents as culturally preferred over others).
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As accents have changed over time, it’s more common now for white Southerners to pronounce the final “r” and use rhotic speech and for Black Americans everywhere to use non-rhotic speech. In Southern states outside of the former plantation system, it’s more common to use rhotic patterns.
The so-called “Southern drawl” can also be explained in linguistic terms. The stretched-out sounds come from vowels — a diphthong is when a vowel shifts from one sound to another. For example, in the word “boy,” the “o” sound shifts into an “i.” The Southern accent prominently features monopthongization, which is when a diphthong, or two-part vowel sound, is flattened into a single vowel sound.
In a recorded example from a University of Georgia linguist, you can hear how the word “five” changes from a standard diphthong (with an “i” transitioning to an “ee,” as in “me”) to a monophthong in SAE. “Five” is flattened into an elongated “ah” vowel sound.
Finally, the Southern accent is marked by unique lexical choices and grammatical variations — a Southerner might say “I reckon” or “I might could” instead of “I might be able to.” (For further examples of this, we recommend Instagram personality Landon Bryant, who makes learning Southern slang and lexicon as easy as drinking a glass of sweet tea.)
Southern Accent Variations
The Tidewater accent, which sounds particularly gentle and rhythmic, is rooted in early British settlers, and can be found in pockets of Virginia and North Carolina. It has non-rhoticity and a glide in long “i” sounds (“ride” sounds like “royd”).
The Piedmont accent is found in more urban areas than coastal regions. For example, the North Carolina cities of Charlotte, Raleigh, and Winston-Salem are known for Piedmont accents. It’s somewhat of a stereotypical Southern accent, differentiated by a subtle drawl, rhotic pronunciation of the letter “r,” and elongated vowel pronunciation (“cat” sounds more like “caat”).
The Appalachian accent is characterized by a Scotch Irish influence. It preserves certain aspects of Elizabethan English through distinctive pronunciations — for example, “like” sounds like “lack.” A musical quality comes from initial syllable stress, which is when the emphasis is shifted to the first syllable of a word.
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The areas around the Gulf of Mexico (in particular, Louisiana) have French and Spanish influences, but we’re not talking about the distinct dialects of Louisiana French or Gullah. The SAE accent found in this region is distinctive for a specific vowel shift that linguists call the “PEN/PIN merger.” With this accent, both “pen” and “pin” are pronounced the same, with an “ih” vowel. Another example of this is how the word “feel” might be pronounced like “fill.”
The Texas accent, meanwhile, combines elements of Southern and Western English. A unique characteristic of the Texan accent is the “caught-cot merger,” which displays elements of nasality and sharpness. As with “pen” and “pin,” this linguistic merger makes “caught” and “cot” sound alike (along with other words with these vowel sounds).
This is just a brief overview of what makes SAE (and its many variations of Southern accents) so special, but any of the linguistic topics mentioned here have layers of nuance and study behind them. We reckon that’ll do it for now.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
Gen Xers grew up under the effects of cable television, new musical genres, and a changing economy. Let’s take a nostalgic journey into the radical world of Gen X slang.
Born between baby boomers and millennials, the members of Generation X are marked by unique cultural influences, a rebellious spirit, and distinctive language. Gen Xers are typically defined as folks born between 1965 and 1980, and they grew up under the effects of cable television, new musical genres, and a changing economy. Let’s take a nostalgic journey into the radical world of Gen X slang.
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As If
This phrase is a great catchall to demonstrate disbelief, skepticism, or dismissiveness, and it works especially well with an eye roll. The 1995 movie Clueless popularized “as if” for the masses, though director Amy Heckerling credits the slang to the LQBTQ+ community, saying she “thought it would be a good thing for teenagers to be saying.”
Chill Pill
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the phrase “take a chill pill” dates to 1981, as a slangy replacement for “calm down.” Essentially, Gen Xers advised their friends to pop a metaphorical pill to help them relax and stop stressing out.
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Cowabunga
Most Gen Xers remember the word “cowabunga” from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon of the 1980s or Bart Simpson in the 1990s. However, this exclamation (used to express amazement or enthusiasm) actually originated on Howdy Doody in the late 1940s, when writer Eddie Kean created the catchphrase for the character of Chief Thunderthud.
Dude
For Gen Xers, a dude can be anyone — the word has evolved to be somewhat of a gender-neutral noun. Etymologists believe “dude” originally came from shortening the phrase “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” In that context, a dude was the type of guy who was overly concerned with his dress and appearance. In millennial slang, we might call that person a hipster.
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Gag Me With a Spoon
To convey a sense of strong distaste or annoyance, a Gen Xer might say, “Gag me with a spoon!” Today’s teens will just call the situation “cringe.” The gag-inducing saying comes from the Valley girl-speak of California’s San Fernando Valley, which is, like, known for a lilting accent and a heavy use of “like” and “whatever.”
Gnarly
In the 1970s, the word “gnarly” was used by surfers to describe a dangerous wave. Gen X teens morphed it into slang to mean either “cool and excellent” or “nasty and unpleasant.” Someone could have both a “gnarly skateboard” and “gnarly skinned knees.”
Headbanger
Fans of heavy metal music were called “headbangers” because they would violently shake their heads in rhythm with the music. The term peaked in popularity in the 1980s, but concertgoers were spotted headbanging years earlier, such as in this footage of Led Zeppelin performing “Communication Breakdown” in 1970.
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Yuppies
This term, used for upwardly mobile workers who were moving into urban areas, first appeared in print in 1980. Writer Dan Rottenberg described this group of Gen Xers as “young urban professionals rebelling against the stodgy suburban lifestyles of their parents. The Yuppies seek neither comfort nor security but stimulation, and they can find that only in the densest sections of the city.” What started as a neutral term quickly became a pejorative as the decade progressed.
Lisa Galek is a freelance writer and editor based in Cleveland, Ohio. Her writing has appeared in Business Insider, Apartment Therapy, Scholastic Science World, and on, literally, thousands of American Greetings cards. The only thing she loves more than an Oxford comma — or an em dash — is her husband and three charming children.
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