“And all kinds of people used it. A professor at the
university used it when addressing her class of students, I hope y’all managed to read my paper. A cab driver addressed two
of us in the back with a general Where y’all
going? Most of the users were African-American; but many were white.”
In Texas, even in Houston (which is hardly representative of
the entire state), y’all is
ubiquitous and used as frequently by whites and Hispanics as by blacks. A white
neighbor in his sixty-five years has virtually erased you (singular and plural) from his working stockpile of second-person
pronouns and replaced it with y’all or y’all’s in the possessive form.
His usage is unselfconscious and functional. He’s not broadcasting his
Texas-ness or playing to the crowd of naïve Northerners.
Crystal dates the origin of the expression to the early nineteenth
century in the American South. It was probably first used by blacks, though he
adds, “one strand in the history of y’all
probably has an Irish origin [youse].”
Little is known with certainty. He confirms the word is “a monosyllabic variant
of you all, rhyming with words like call.” Occasionally, especially among
blacks, I hear the word stretched and almost turned into two syllables, an
effect that reminds me of a singer using melisma. Crystal has drawn up rules of
usage based on observation. For instance, y’all
is seldom used more than once in a sentence and almost never at the end of a
sentence. And he notes that y’all is
more strongly stressed than you: “it
has a greater impact in a sentence.” My observations suggest the word is often
used to suggest friendliness and welcome. You
used alone can sound generic or neutral.
I would never use y’all.
It wouldn’t sound natural and might sound patronizing. For appropriate use, listen
to Louis Armstrong on “Laughin’ Louie,” a gage-fueled Bacchanalia from 1933. In
Pops: A Life of Louis Armstrong
(2009), Terry Teachout transcribes a pertinent portion of the dialogue:
“Y’all won’t let me play some hot riffs for you this evening,
and you won’t let me sing for you, but you must listen at this beautiful
number, one of them old-time good ones. Listen at this!”
2 comments:
As an 11 year old DC native arriving in Louisville in 1970, I was blistered by my new acquaintances for saying “you guys” (among hundreds of other offenses they would continue to punish me for). Over the years “y’all” found its way into my working conversational (not written) vocabulary, to the point where now I use the two terms interchangeably and unconsciously. Of course Louisville is not really the South, and I’ve always maintained that the people there don’t have an accent; they just speak incorrectly. I plead guilty.
I say it when I'm where other people do—it comes naturally and automatically. In New York? Hardly ever.
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