Continuing the Crook County News Since 1884

This Side of the Pond

Notes from an Uprooted Englishwoman

For the first couple of years after I sailed across the pond, I sometimes felt as though I were speaking into a vacuum. I found myself stuck in a surreal no man's land where my meaning was being dismissed or ignored and I couldn't work out why. It turned out that I was using all the wrong words.

A respected polling company back in the UK has just explained this phenomenon. As if I hadn't already had ample opportunity to work it out for myself, YouGov performed a survey that proved Britain and America are the two nations separated by a common language they are often claimed to be.

The difference lies in the subtext. In a nutshell, we use an awful lot of it and you guys think it's better to just say what you mean.

The survey took a popular meme looking at what we Brits say and what we mean and compared people's understanding of those statements in the UK and on these shores. Over half the Americans who took part misinterpreted a whole slew of our passive aggressive tendencies.

Because yes, we are indeed a passive aggressive species, often saying things that have quite the opposite meaning. Were a Brit to say to you, for example, "I'll bear it in mind", you may well be in the majority of Americans who think this means the Brit will go ahead and do what you were suggesting.

But no, that's not what most Brits would actually be saying. The meaning of that sentence in the UK is, "I've forgotten it already, to be honest".

On a similar note, the survey found that 58 percent of Americans thought the phrase, "I hear what you say," means, "I accept your point of view". Conversely, the most common Brit interpretation found by the survey was, "I disagree with what you're saying and I don't want to discuss it further".

Politeness also played a part. The survey found that almost two in three Brits are only telling each other we must "come over for dinner" to be polite and, presumably, express that we have enjoyed a person's company.

We don't mean it, but that wouldn't be how an American friend would hear it. You guys were found to be more likely to take it as a sincere invitation, which conjures heartbreaking images of friendly Americans ringing doorbells with bottles of wine while their would-be host hides behind a kitchen table.

I grew up embroiled in this culture of never saying what one really means, so I do it automatically. I have a theory (which I admit has never been backed up by anything scientific) that we imposed these rules of politeness upon ourselves because we're not actually very polite – after all, we're talking about the country that invented such concepts as privateering. I suspect we'd turn feral, given half the chance.

Rather than constantly punch each other in the face, we decided not to say any of the things that were going through our brains. Instead, we limited ourselves to inoffensive statements about the weather and invitations to dinner we have no intention of pursuing.

But because it's impossible to hide one's true feelings forever, they began to creep out via subtext. This is why we'll preface a statement with a phrase such as, "With the greatest respect..." when what we really mean is, "You're an idiot, but I'm far too polite to say that out loud".

It's why, "That's a very brave proposal" does not, as you might think, imply the speaker thinks you are courageous in your thinking. Properly translated, it means they suspect you are off your rocker.

As you can see, the reason what I was saying was not being heard was simple: I wasn't actually saying it. I thought I was, and if I'd been speaking to Brits I would have been, but to the ears of my new friends I was saying something entirely different.

This is the trouble with sharing a language: one tends to assume it also means sharing the use of that language. It leads to misunderstandings when I say something like, "I was a bit disappointed" and my listener assumes it's no big deal when I am actually expressing that I am livid about it.

You might also be thinking that it sounds exhausting to be constantly saying one thing and meaning another while at the same time applying one's interpretational skills to decode the reply. It's not, I assure you, but only because I've been doing it all my life.

The upside to the topsy turvy use of language preferred by the Brits is that one becomes extremely adept at reading body language. You have to, because you sure aren't going to get a person's point just by listening to them.

A nostril flare or a flick of the eyebrow is another form of subtext to the Brits, and we just learn to interpret it along with the rest of the nonsense. (The fact we tightly control our facial expressions is probably one of the reasons we are thought of as reserved, but then it's important to know what your face is doing when it's half of what you're saying.)

For me, interpreting body language has evolved from a natural British skill into a superpower here in Wyoming, because you guys are not so guarded with the use of your cheekbones. These days, I can read a room in an instant, which is a relief because it helps me stay on track with the interpretations.

The big question I've been asking myself is: which way do I now think is better? Am I still an advocate of half-meanings and lip twitches, or have I come to see the merit in speaking your mind at all times?

The answer is both. I have learned to be more direct and I certainly appreciate how much easier life can be when you've eliminated the possibility of being misunderstood. But on the other hand, if I wasn't able to tell when people were fibbing, how would I know when they were hiding the cookies from me?