"Yeah, you rite."

“Where you want this paint Mr. K?” “Ova there by da porch is fine.” So it begins, each morning in my New Orleans home starts with my neighbors chatting. The paper-thin walls of my shotgun house keep me hot in the summer, cold in the fall and in this case, awake in the morning. But sometimes I wait to get up. I lie in bed awhile and enjoy the conversation outside my window. Catching up on the local news, weather, and an unmistakable regional dialect. It is the “Yat” dialect, a melody, with a thick flavor and leisurely tempo. Like an instrument you wish you could play, but upon attempt, the locals will know you’re just a parody. A “Yat” is a stereotype for locals who use this “brand” of English, especially those from the Ninth Ward. I find the dialect attractive and I’m always subconsciously repeating new phrases. I’ll practice phrases like “Benhavin dat a while” over and over. Each time I would change a syllable slightly but the tone of the dialect was never original. The more I practice my newfound language I keep thinking about my home in Kentucky and the perception of a “country” or “redneck” dialect. In Kentucky the education of a “perfect English” is expected. The “perfect English” we associate with The Today Show or 60 Minutes. The “redneck” or “country” variations of dialect sometimes give us impressions of illiteracy or a lack of intelligence. There is something unique about how the “Yat English” operates.
The dialect is used among a variety of people with varying social and economic backgrounds. In the ninth ward these social and economic backgrounds mingle. Shoulder to shoulder, walking in Vaughn’s on a Thursday night, it’s apparent that Intelligence and literacy have no affiliation with one’s acquired tone. In the ninth ward the dialect seems to saturate the environment, everyone is welcome and accounted for. I squeezed through the door as Kermit Ruffins kicked off his set with “palm court strut.” I looked around and everyone began to nod his or her head. The music was now part of our experience just as the beer in hand or smoke in the air. This was a soundtrack and we were part of a film, or so it seemed to me. Yet this was a normal day for a “Yat” in the Ninth Ward. Both the upper and lower Ninth Ward is identified as either middle class or low citizens. The “Yat” Dialect does not escape all stereotypes due to its regional identity and association with the Ninth Ward. Outside of the Ninth Ward however, the local dialect also operates in the marketing and business world. For Example, the local comic Vic n’ Nat ly by Bunny Matthews illustrates the daily encounters and the local dialect between a couple from the Ninth Ward. Zatarain's a New Orleans Cajun produce company uses phrases like” Them Yat’s love their Zat’s”
It was Saturday night on Frenchmen St. and the crowd was local, but a few tourists had found this hideaway street a few blocks from the French Quarter. The muffled sounds of brass instruments circulate in the streets. I was looking for a place to eat when I noticed a food stand on the corner of Chartres and Frenchmen called “Food to Geaux.” I laughed at the name. I understood it as a funny way for a business to market humor but more importantly use language as an indication of authenticity. This kind of play on words is similar to the way some of the business in New Orleans utilize the “Yat” dialect. Sounds and sentence syntax are two key components in the perception of a dialect that cannot be described with proper grammar. Spelling out a dialect as it sounds is a way for the dialect to be revealed and at the same time, when used as a marketing tool, present a local character or authenticity. “Nawlins” is a popular example of how businesses use this to express a locality.
A New Orleanian dialect is often compared to a Brooklyn accent. Both accents tend to shorten or completely alter phrases with”laziness” in the tone or pronunciation. Phrases like, “you know what I mean?” become “ya’ heard me?” or when agreeing: “yeah, you rite.” The perceptions of “laziness” in the “Yat” dialect occur with subtle changes in words like “this” where the “th” becomes “dis”. Or the end of words like “locker” loose the “er” and are replaced with “a”. The sounds of these subtleties are hard to convey on paper, saying “Locka” without using a nasal tone in the “L” changes the dialect completely. Just this tone shift makes the pronunciation of “Locka” sound closer to a Brooklyn accent. Dialects associated with areas such as Lafayette, Louisiana, or even in Eastern parts of Kentucky, are often associated with a “redneck” or “hillbilly” lifestyle; whereas, a New Orleanian accent has been associated with it’s international heritage as a blend of Creole, French and English. Every language has its stereotypes and New Orleans dialect, at first sounds like a softer “Brooklynese” but, subtleties make a distinction between the two as clear as day and night. The Brooklyn accent has a more aggressive tone than the rich New Orleanian accent. 

My first notion of understanding the dialect of the region is to understand a visitor’s perception of the associations with it. After talking to two locals who were not natives of New Orleans, I noticed that I was not the only one finding it difficult to imitate and understand the “Yat” dialect. Waiting in line at Café Du Monde one Tuesday, I met Tim, a local originally from California. I asked how long he had lived in New Orleans and he told me he’d lived here for six years. We discussed how difficult it was for a visitor to imitate the accent of a New Orleanian. He told me that when he first moved here worked at the Veterinary Hospital on Prytania for about three months and worked with a Creole woman who also spoke French. Tim told me, “ I thought she was foreign when I met her. She sounded like she just learned English.” I asked him if she was good example for representing the majority of New Orleanian accents. He told me that nobody was a good example, “I still hear new things everyday, and find myself sayin’ it later. ” I laughed because I find myself in a similar situation constantly trying to mimic local phrases that I’ve heard. It’s interesting to see New Orleans’s conscious awareness of their dialect. It is present throughout their everyday lives in ways other cities might not market a dialect. The weekly entertainment paper, “Where Y’at” is an example of the use of dialect to describe a regional magazine native to New Orleans. 

Lisa is another local who I met at Markey’s bar in Bywater. She is originally from New Jersey and speaks with hints of the New Orleanian accent. We spoke about architecture, for a while and eventually after she noticed my Kentucky accent, we discussed her New Jersey background and accent. She described how she had lived with her mother in New Orleans and developed her accent. Her father would question her grammar, she quoted him saying, “I don’t understand how you and your mother describe things.” Upon moving to New Orleans the accent of the locals can create preconceived notions about the person. Lisa told me, “Coming here, hearing people talk. It took me a while to realize that a someone’s dialect is not necessarily related to his or her level of intelligence.” I felt that this was a very important factor in understanding how people first receive one another. Often times we have the tendency to see a correlation between a “southern” accent and a lack of education. Moving past that tendency we can see cultural values that are present in the dialect. Asking someone, “Where Y’at’” in New Orleans really means wanting to know how they are doing.
On nice sunny days I ride my bike west from the Ninth Ward down Royal St. through the French Quarter, under the Interstate and out St. Charles to Uptown. I pass by several other bike riders along the way and I feel a more personal connection with them somehow. Riding past my neighbors in a vehicle compared passing them on a bicycle is similar to having a conversation on the phone versus having one in person. The bicycle experience is an immediate encounter and the car is detached from the person. The immediacy of an encounter with another biker seems universal. There is an innate tendency to acknowledge the other biker even if it’s a wave or nod. The language of New Orleanians is well suited for these encounters. Every day I ride home or leave home passing by a church a block from my house. There on the corner sits a friendly man, legs crossed on a metal chair. Twelve o’ clock in the afternoon or nine o’ clock at night, he’s always there. A friendly wave and nod is the usual greeting. Until one day I stopped to introduce myself. “How you doin’ today?” I asked. “Aiight, seein as the Saints be aiight ya’ heard me?” he replied. I laughed, realizing that the New Orleans Saints NFL team has had a spot in the hearts of many residents, especially after Katrina.
“Who dat say they gonna beat dem Saints, Who dat say they gonna beat dem Saints!” surrounded by thousands of fans just outside the Superdome on the mezzanine and I can feel the floor shaking. It’s minutes before the game starts and the fans are screaming. Today is Sunday and it’s New Orleans Saints versus the North Carolina Panthers. Black and gold everywhere with a few specks of blue, the fans line up at the doors to funnel into the Superdome. “Twenty-Five ta Eighteen Believe Dat.” In the crowd I hear the dialect surrounding me, everyone predicting an outcome and getting into the spirit of what the Saints might represent to each fan. Once inside, we navigate through three floors of escalators. The animated fans together created a collective diversity that surrounded us. The perception and judgment of character through the dialect is lost in this allied event; however, the dialect is not lost at all. The dialect is more than just the language now. At the game it becomes part of a character, a mentality that everyone is experiencing. When the odds are up, the fans are allied, when the team takes a lost the fans collectively motivate and reassure one another. The actions of the crowd led me to understand dialect in relation to one’s character. Not a relation of intellectual character, a relation of sociability and community.
The difference in dialect is apparent across the city. St. Claude Avenue divides the Upper Ninth Ward. The St. Claude community sits to the north of St. Claude and the Bywater community to the south. Two different communities and socioeconomic backgrounds share McDonalds, Rally’s, Domino’s, and Church’s, all the common staples of the American diet that rest along the St. Claude Avenue. At Rally’s on a weekday the sun beats down on the white concrete and blinds me as I wait for my order to be called. The service is slow and the heat is miserable, but the woman working has a dialect that seems to assure my doubt. She ends statements with “ok, bay-by” and “yea” in a “Yat” dialect that has a different sound from a Bywater “Yat” dialect the subtleties are apparent in the emphasis of “ye” before the consonant "a" in “yea”. The subtleties in pronunciation have major effects in distinction of difference among one dialect. It becomes easier to identify a dialect type when heard rather than read. Across the city in Uptown at the same food chain on St. Charles Ave, was where I found myself the second week I had been in New Orleans. The service at this location was quicker however the employee’s tone expressed irritation when served; I was asked “ Whatchu need?” I wasn’t upset, but looking back in comparison has led me to realize influence of dialect and how I recall a particular memory as good or bad.
There are a few key locations in New Orleans where the “Yat” dialect is heavy and the environment is usually a reflection this. Interestingly these places are not clustered into one locale of the Ninth Ward, but spread across the city. On a few Saturdays I find myself with friends at Rock n’ Bowl, a bowling alley located Uptown with live music and a full bar. Approaching the site the neon lights of the bowling pin and letters seem conventional but behind the doors sit a piece of 1950 frozen in time. The lady greets you at the steps while reading a newspaper, “up the stairs dawlin’” she says, stamping your hand and pointing up the endless staircase. At the top John Angel and the Swingin’ Demons are playing “Saturday Night Saloon”. This place was never changed, from the lanes and ball carriers to the paint on the walls, the entire room feels like a movie set for “Happy Days” and the crowd is vibrant and those who aren’t on the dance floor are at the bar or on the lanes. At the front desk is a lady with longer grey hair in a ponytail. She’s anxiously chewing her gum and waiting for our request. “What can I getcha honey?” she asks. We got our shoes and scorecards then she told us, “ya’ll on lane 4, awrite." I’ll pass by ya lane lata if ya need somethin’” Phrases like “I’ll pass by ya.” are common over in Bywater community between neighbors and friends. But in Bywater or Ninth Ward the tone or pronunciation of these phrases evoke a slower tempo and lifestyle than the tone perceived in Uptown.
Under the radar is Dorgniac’s is another “New Orleens” luxury. Just off of Veteran’s Blvd. Dorgniac's. This grocery store is an antique, and an easy spot to find colloquial dialects. I found myself here a few days after Thanksgiving, after all the overindulgence had worn off. Walking into Dorgniac’s it’s hard to avoid walking straight to the bakery. The sweet smell of fritters, pies and other baked treats fills the air. Through the liquor department and to the seafood and meat area the butchers are constantly adding more gumbo shrimp to the display. In their white coats they speak using “Yat” phrases such as “anywayz” and “f’shure”. These phrases keep the pace of the conversation and set an informal tone. The dialect between these two men was much less pronounced than the dialect you’ll hear at Frady’s Food Store in the Bywater. Just walk in on a weekday at Frady’s and order any po-boy you’ll probably hear “ you want it dressed?” If you ask for directions and you’ll probably hear someone say, “ova here” or “ova there” instead of “over here or there.” Even the dialect within the city is apparent based on what part of New Orleans you might find yourself.
It was Saturday night at La Chat Noir, and we were searching for comic relief with local flavor. We decided to start our night here for the Red Light District Variety Show. Moments before the show began local playwright Jim Fitzmorris was preparing to go on stage, greeting his guests. The show started with music by Alan Payne on piano. It was a parody to welcome the newly elected Louisiana, Governor Bobby Jindal. Jindal’s impersonator was surrounded by belly dancers of “Bollywood” who began to strip him of his political outfit. The show is known for it’s hilarious political mockery; however, in the mix is a careful use of New Orleans vernacular. There was one particular skit where two news anchors sarcastically presented the local news. During this skit New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin was motioned for some of his most infamous quotes. Mayor Nagin seems to play an interesting role in the perception of New Orleanian dialect. With his efforts after Hurricane Katrina, he has become a popular figure in American media. For many Americans he represents New Orleans with his voice. Some of the quotes are so popular that a keychain titled “ Da Mayor in your pocket” can be purchased at local stores. Some of the sayings include “ This is a national disasta”, “You gotta be kiddin me.” or my favorite, “Excuse my French, everybody in America, but I am pissed.”
At the comedy show, actor Farrar Hudkins played the male news anchor and his imitation of Mayor Nagin’s dialect was very accurate. The role of the dialect in entertainment is an interesting issue. How should the dialect be portrayed? When imitating a dialect should we be careful to not to support false stereotypes? All of these questions are issues for playwrights like Jim Fitzmorris and anyone working in public media. A few weeks earlier at Southern Rep Theater, I had just seen the play “The Breach” written by three playwrights, Catherine Filloux, Tarell Mccraney and Joe Sutton. The play displayed the story of life immediately after the Katrina’s flood through the eyes of a family, a journalist and a local bartender. Most actors in the play had to play multiple parts as different characters. The dialect for each character was also slightly varied. The difference in dialect was apparent and the actors successfully achieved each individual. I noticed however, that the actors who assumed one identity were able to play a more compelling character. It was then apparent to me that the physical characteristics of a character play just as an important role as dialect in forming a distinct identity. If the perceptions of colloquial dialects are products of sound, sentence structure and words, the physical body language of an individual plays a role in the perception of their identity. Together they influence our perceptions of everyone around us. Through dialect smallest differences can result in totally new perceptions. It’s simple and stupid things like how do to talk you say mayo, “Mayonnaise” or “Mynez”. On paper, these variations become indistinguishable unless we break the rules of grammar to aid representation of the dialect. Some linguistics professionals fear that the education of a Standard English will homogenize the American dialects. This seems unlikely when you experience the massive variety of New Orleanian accents. Every time a language meets another, or an individual introduces a new phrase the language and dialect slowly evolve. The same way one can trace words to their Latin origin, The “Yat” dialect has a variation within itself that is constantly being developed.
The “Yat” dialect you’ll here in New Orleans is a variation of Standard English rather than a mispronunciation of Standard English. The locals seem to understand their language as a unique variation of English rather than an inaccurate interpretation. The variations within the “Yat” dialect are very subtle and vary according to your location in the city. In New Orleans, the streets or canals that surround a community can describe its neighborhood boundary, but there are also indications of boundaries, which shape the communities. These indicative boundaries can be as simple as a fenced yard or the bikes outside of a coffee shop. The slate sidewalks and ground entry buildings of the French Quarter are refined to accommodate a tourist economy. In Marigny, the separation of sidewalks from the entry or raised entries accommodate individual privacy for members of a community. Just as subtle architectural queues can hint at the differences in community the subtle sound interactions of consonants and vowels in a New Orleanian’s voice will be clearly perceived as local. There is a pride in locality for New Orleanians, their accents, their heritage and history are all valued highly. At a local scale, community pride is present as well. The development of New Orleans wards in the eighteenth century was a way for voting precincts to be established based on neighborhoods. Saying "I live in Bywater." and saying "I live in the Ninth Ward." are different by degree. Saying “Bywater” means being geographically more specific, saying “Ninth Ward” carrying a wealth of social connotations. The residents of New Orleans still recognize the wards as in cultural sense rather than a political one. Diversity is celebrated among the locals, and dialect only addresses one layer of New Orleans’ cultural intricacy.