I remembered suddenly that when I was 10, in the very early days of social media, when things were way more lawless and casual, and social media did not link to real life, for all intents and purposes, I did not have internet, save for to be able to do a school-assigned summer project every summer break for which I’d hand-write info from Wikipedia (and other sites) and select some pictures to print out and paste into a scrapbook. In those days, my only real exposure to America was through television. I wasn’t really into sitcoms and whatnot, which are often American, and of course we had Hollywood films. But we also had (have) a lot of indigenous cinema, and so of course I heard a lot of media in my own accent and languages, and read a lot of work written in my own English. Owing to a long and tedious history, our English was British English. Our books were either the English editions, English imports, or occasionally Indian editions. And of course, we had a rich literature of local English-language and Anglo-Indian authors (I hadn’t read The Room On The Roof aged 10! But I would have read it by 15, which honestly is the right age).
There was some exposure to American* English and voices through Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon shows, and through American dubs of kids’ anime, however. So I grew up loving Pokémon, Beyblade, a bunch of other series that my generation at least, watched in English. (*yes I’m aware the Beyblade dub is Canadian. Only Canadians know the difference between a Canadian and an American accent.)
So here we are in around 2009, 2010, all I know about America is: it's vast, very clean (my mum’s dust allergies did not flare up for the first time ever when we visited family there, and so America must be dust-free. As an adult, I maintain my own house now and laugh at the notion that *anywhere* could really be dust-free; my mum visited me and sneezed once. Yet, I do have to concede that she sneezes more in her own house, which shall always be 10x cleaner than mine, and saying this even is a compliment to my house. I try to be my mum. I fail, regularly. (<- was sweeping at 2 am last night because I’d rather have the dust IN the dustbin that I had to take out for garbage collection the next morning. Also it’s!! the hair!!). It has Disneyland, President Obama, Pokémon and Beyblade, mindful of the knowledge that two of these were actually Japanese. No obstacle.
This is my view of America. Sounds quite nice, doesn’t it? And they speak differently to us, but the only people I’ve heard speaking like this are 1. my cousins (very sweet) 2. ‘YES WE CAN!’ A+, inspiring 3. ‘Go Pikachu!’
So I warm to this little novelty. I can still do Ash Ketchum’s voice, and at one point aged like 11 everyone thought I was going to be a voice actor because I could do accents. Never mind that my range was very limited, and I had never been ‘y’all’ed at. All I had was ‘GenAm.’ Southern exposure would come later in life.
I couldn’t just speak American, that would’ve had me cast out immediately. No way. We were harsh on ‘snobs’ that pretended they were from elsewhere, who had a ‘posh upbringing’, went to the international schools, or spoke with an accent we recognised as from the foreign English(-first language) world (read: British or American. Australians were our cricket sledging rivals: we’d done their accent a million times and they’d done ours. They were the reason why Indians have an odd propensity for the word 'mate' despite not being British. The Aussies didn’t count. Also we didn’t really have Australian schools in the country, international schools were usually IB or IGCSE, which usually produced one of two accents). But almost as a little nod, as a token of admiration, I could spell just a handful of words differently.
And so I could declare the color of pH indicators on my tests and then go home to watch my favorite animated series. It was seen simply as a mark of internationalism: what a well-read kid! You were clearly reading outside the curriculum if you were reading American editions. I don't particularly ever remember being taken aside for my spelling or discouraged from it, besides the occasional circling of 'bad' spelling in my work with a red pen by a teacher. The world continued to turn. I volunteered with organisations, my documents were notarised, my sentences ended with fullstops. My sums pointedly ignoring the 'hundred thousands' and 'millions'. I'd come home and sit in the bathroom, furiously scribbling away my Pokémon ideas, telling my mum I needed longer to shower, mental tyres screeching to a halt when she'd turn off the light in frustration. But true to character, at least the scripts retained their proper geographical localisation (localization?), albeit spoken through the mouth of a 13 year old who certainly did not live in the USA. But could put on a damn decent voice in a few specific situations.
I don't remember when exactly this stopped, it likely faded away like many childhood enthusiasms do, aided by a resigned fear of being marked down by external examiners on important tests, and the subsequent need to standardise language for the widest possible readership, but it was long enough ago that I had forgotten I ever wrote like that in the first place. I think it was definitely gone by 2016, for both reasons. I'm not sure 'American' was really 'cool' to anyone anymore. And we were coming up to 15, 16. That was when I first got a phone.