When your accent betrays you

Plus the fear of taking the subway

It’s 8:53pm and I have to get on a train going to Queens. I need to be home ASAP! No, there is no emergency, just three scenarios playing in my head right now.

First, the weather app on my phone says it is 2°C. It honestly feels like -30°C because this wind has a bad temper. My California-adapted jacket is facing some impostor syndrome right now and it cannot do the work. Okay, I think that makes the jacket an imposter. I can’t remember the last time my teeth clattered but they are doing something of that nature right now.

Secondly, I’m new to New York City and I have no clue how the trains work. Luckily, Google Maps does the most in this regard so I should be fine, directionwise (I think). But Google Maps doesn’t teach you how to purchase a metro card, or tell you which side of the platform the train is coming from. It doesn’t tell you that when it says 9:03pm, it means the train would have departed at 9:03pm, but might arrive at 8:58pm. This means the 8:58pm train is your train, get on it and don’t wait for the one you think is coming at 9:03pm because the doors will shut right as you realize your rookie mistake, like this one just did. Oh, it’s 9:03pm right now and there goes my train.

Thirdly, it is pretty late. At this point, the sun is far gone and the platform is scanty. It’s off-peak time so people are home, probably in front of their TVs. In this subway, the lights are low and my paranoia is high. I’ve heard of people being pushed unto the tracks at the sight and sound of an incoming train, especially at late nights. At this point, every innocent passerby is a potential exterminator in my head. 

What if someone pushes me onto the tracks when a train is approaching? I mean, I might survive if I think quickly on my feet, but in the presence of fear, the brain is just a tangled bunch of gummy worms. Even if I do get my brain working, my muscles will not cooperate. My last failed attempt at a pull-up tells me all I need to know, I might not successfully pull myself out of the deep rails before the train arrives. Either way, I’m screwed.

Underground train stations are breeding grounds for SOS signals. If I get off at the wrong station, I’m at the mercy of some kind of phone angle precision, one that’ll convert SOS to a single network bar and save me from distress. Now, back to my third scenario, I am panicking, not visibly because I have to keep it cool, and not make those around me uncomfortable. And I’m not one to stubbornly try to figure things out on my own. Maybe two years ago, I was that person, but the two years I spent in grad school reshaped my approach to work and now, I’ve learnt to ask, learn more, and save time, than try to figure it out, waste time and resources, and still end up asking. 

Oh, it doesn’t look that dark from the picture. But I remember it being dark, no jokes!

“Hi!” I say to this friendly-looking woman also looking to get on the next train. “I’m going up to 34th street and I just wanted to be sure that this platform is the right one.” I smiled, and she smiled back. Then I said, “I’m new to the city and still finding my way around here.” I’m not sure why I felt the need to add that last part, but I did. “Oh, welcome! Where are you from?” she asked. “California” I said, without thinking too much, and gloating because I know how East Coasties envy the California weather, especially in winter. 

“But you don’t have a Californian accent.” She said. Then it dawned on me that I couldn’t claim California as my state of origin. In California, when I was asked where I was from, I’d say Nigeria. That doesn’t change because I’ve moved to New York. Because here, when they ask you where you’re from, it’s because they’ve noticed that a certain aspect of your identity, either your looks, accent, or behavior differs from the cultural norm of your current settlement. Now I know, wherever I find myself, whether in dark subways or on hiking trails, when I’m asked where I’m from, it doesn’t matter if I’ve toured the world or relocated many times from city to city, the answer remains the same; “Nigeria”.