I Come From Foreign

The Room of One Color, MOMA, NYC

It’s been a crazy, beautiful month. I try to fight it but I’m a sucker for the adrenaline rush. After my first trip to Chicago I was dreading the hectic mess to come. After my second trip to New York I’m just in a really awesome space. Ready to take on the third trip to Florida.

God, New York. Love it.

There’s something about NY that brings out the well-hidden (of-late) independent streak in me. I walk the streets of Manhattan and I’m freakin’ invincible.

I fell victim to the aeroplane gods who decided to test my patience and desire to go to NY (I reaaallly wanted to go) with a 21-hour plane fiasco from LA to NYC. Nonetheless, once I hit the hotel I just jumped in the shower (airport grime) and from then on, it’s been go, go, go. Haven’t stopped yet.

You know when you’re just on?

And you’re hitting it hard and you’re real and connected and you’re authentic and you’re in the zone and it’s all flowing.

Crazy, beautiful flow.

That sums up my trip to New York. I’m energized, I’m ready to push harder, I’m ready to go balls out.

Space Reversal at the MOMA, NYC

My love affair with New York began during college. My bf at the time was working at the World Trade Center and I visited for two weeks spending whole days wandering the city by myself. So freeing and beautiful.

Dude, I grew up sheltered. Nobody walks in Trinidad–nobody that I knew. There are no subways and taxis are dangerous. I barely knew how to cross the street.

To be in big, bad NYC at 20, walking the mean streets and maneuvering the subway system all by myself… exhilaration. And that crazy, beautiful, NY feeling has stayed with me since.

When I still had dreams of being a fashion editrice a la Anna Wintour I wanted to move to NY after college and “find my way.”

Uh yeh. Hopes dashed midway through my senior semester when the harsh reality of making a living of my own accord hit.

Off to my brother’s house in Miami I went.

Basically, I wussed out.

There’s something about traveling by yourself. I went to NY for work for a conference. Forced into a bunch of situations where I knew nary a soul.

Sink or swim time.

It’s weird, though. If I was there with one other person I knew, I would probably have just been a wallflower and stuck to that one person.

But all by myself, my independent streak emerged and I just pushed it and I truly connected with some great folks.

Crazy, good stuff.

I got to lime with my cousin, her bf, and some other Trinis and use my normal accent. Why don’t I use it all the time? How did I lose it? It’s ridiculous. At dinner one night I began talking in my regular voice and I was so much looser, more relaxed, more natural, more me. Apparently, my hands start flailing. I want that back.

For me, getting my MBA has been a lot more about personal than professional growth. One of my main objectives has been to feel comfortable enough in a business setting to drop my stiff, corporate wall and just let it flow. In the past five years, I’ve allowed that smiling, nodding, eager-to-please corporate persona to somehow invade my personal life and turn me into this shell.

It’s not cool. It took a long time to for me to even figure out what was happening and I’ve spent the past year trying to break it down. Still don’t know why I did it to myself.

It’s a work in progress.

A crazy, beautiful work in progress.

Arrrite people, so I have a very serious question for you.

One thing I’ve noticed since I’ve been in foreign is my inability to speak in anything other than the Queen’s English when giving a presentation.

(you know, like Dominic Kalipersad on Panorama back in the day)

Whenever I have to speak in public, it’s like I’m back in front of a classroom, hands clasped at my chest like I’m reciting a poem, and English English English!

It’s the only way!

So here’s the thing…

I’m supposedly conducting an audio interview at the end of the month…

An audio interview that will be posted online from now until eternity…

What do I do?

Okay, so let me give you the full background.

Besides maybe having to control my presentation accent, which is not really the Queen’s English, but a Trini Queen’s English, and totally foreign sounding, which might be good if I were giving a state of the union address for one of the colonies but for an interview something more accessible might be more appropriate.

Yes, so besides that.

Besides that I kind of have the tendency to sound like a six-year old girl.

Like I answer the phone and the freaking telemarketer, in that sickeningly, sappy voice they reserve for kids, asks: “Is your mummy home?”

BAH.

Yes, I love to torture myself.

I actually really enjoy public speaking, although it makes me a nervous wreck.

My first real taste of public speaking was two jobs ago when I started doing training workshops. I was so proud and excited that I was chosen to teach these professionals in the field how to do their job!

Well hear this.

Talk about a step back into reality.

A couple days before the first workshop, my benevolent boss comes around with a NYT article (as he was often wont to do) specially selected for me.

The title?

Wait for it..

…

“My Voice Has Got to Go”

OH SNAP!

Well yeah I can laugh about it now but back then, I, the recent college grad who had not yet developed the tough shell necessary to advancement in the U.S. rat race, went home in a state of shock, which subsequently turned into hysterics. Once the shaking and hysterics subsided, I began to plot my exit strategy.

Anyway, whatevs. Every experience prepares you for the next one and the one thing I can say is that I now know how to stand up for myself and that’s probably one of the most valuable things you can learn in business.

And… back to the story.

Actually wait. Let me put a disclaimer. I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with my voice. I’ve definitely gotten more compliments on my voice than complaints. My students (yup, still tickles me to say it!) always gave me great marks and I truly enjoyed the experience. Who doesn’t love a stage? Yes, the voice is a bit high-pitched, but—in spite of never having read that wretched article (principle)—through sheer bloodymindedness I have learned to gain better control of my lower chords for a fuller, deeper tone.

Okay, now back to the story.

Well, the question.

What should I do?

Should I do what comes naturally? This stiff, Queen’s English, reciting the Constitution type of thing?

Start practicing rounding out my vowels and pronouncing my R’s so I don’t freak anyone out with my weird (to them) foreign sounding voice?

What do you all do?

Even if at no other time, do you try to minimize your accent when you talk in public?

Has your accent gotten you in trouble before?

Never underestimate the restorative effects of a pedicure and a jalapeño cheese pretzel dog.

~ Me