In my early years in Saigon, I encountered many awkward and even comical situations because of my accent. Many people weren't used to it and had to ask me to repeat myself a couple of times. I realized that regional accents can sometimes be a "barrier" to communication, especially in environments requiring standardization such as media, teaching, or working with people from different regions.
It's not out of embarrassment that I practice speaking with a standard accent, but because I want listeners to understand me better. Language, after all, is a tool for connection. When others have to try to guess the meaning, the message is somewhat diminished. Therefore, adjusting one's voice—to be easy to listen to, clear, and neutral—is essential, showing respect for the interlocutor and fulfilling professional requirements.
However, there is a fine line between "standardization" and "losing oneself." Voice is the soul of memory, the sound of one's homeland, and a unique identifier for each individual. Losing one's voice sometimes means losing a part of one's roots.
For me, speech can be flexible, but it shouldn't change completely. In the lecture hall, I speak with a standard Southern accent so that my teachers and friends can easily understand me. When invited to host a program or give a speech, I choose to pronounce words clearly and distinctly, toning down my regional accent. But when I go back home, sitting with my mother on the porch, listening to the wind rustling through the bamboo grove, I naturally revert to my simple Quang Nam accent. Just saying "How are you?" or "Where are you going in such sunshine?" makes all the years away from home melt away. My hometown accent is a bridge connecting me to the past, a thread that keeps me from losing my identity.
Some people say that a standard accent is more civilized. I think neither accent is inherently more civilized than the other. A standard accent is simply more convenient in communication. A genuine, appropriate regional accent also has its own appeal. Like the warm, heartfelt accent of Nghe An when telling stories of home, the gentle, moonlit voice of Hue in songs, or the sweet, familiar accent of Southern Vietnam.
A voice is not just a sound; it's also an emotion, a cultural rhythm. When we hear someone speak in their hometown accent, we feel trust and warmth. I remember once visiting a relative in the hospital, and hearing the nurse speak in her Quang Nam accent, I suddenly felt a sense of closeness, like meeting family. Similarly, in a bustling city, hearing someone use their local dialect ("nớ, răng, mô"), my heart softens, as if I've returned to my birthplace.
Maintaining one's regional accent doesn't mean being old-fashioned. On the contrary, it's a form of "linguistic self-respect." Speaking with a standard accent isn't necessarily better, just as using a local accent isn't necessarily less sophisticated. The important thing is knowing when to use a particular accent – to both respect the listener and preserve one's own identity.
Source: https://baodanang.vn/giu-giong-que-minh-3313955.html
Comment (0)