You know that stereotype about noisy Americans? If you don’t, you’re American and you think the whole world talks at the same level as you.
It doesn’t.
Back when Wild Thing and I lived in Minneapolis, our friends D. and D. traveled from quietest Devon to visit us. When they reeled off the plane, jet lagged and culture shocked, they confessed that they’d thought Wild Thing was loud until they changed planes in Chicago, where they had a revelation: Wild Thing isn’t loud, she’s just American.
Okay, they might have waited a few days to say that. Or it could’ve been a few years. I don’t really remember. But they did say it. And since they worry (especially the one D.) endlessly and unnecessarily about offending people, I should add that we weren’t offended. We thought it was (a) true and (b) very funny.
The British, as a rule, are quiet–at least when sober. They don’t like to stand out in a crowd. They teach their children seventy-four forms of politeness, most of which I don’t understand but at least a dozen of them are variants on not calling attention to themselves. And Americans? The positive way to see it is that we’re less inhibited. If you want the negative spin, we’re thoughtless and rude. Take your pick. Or take both. It’s not an either/or choice.

Irrelevant photo: Red campion (which is actually pink, and polite) surrounded by nettle leaves, which are not polite.
But when D. and D. commented on Wild Thing being noisy, they didn’t mention me. So when I’ve worried about whether and how and when I offend British sensibilities (and I do occasionally worry about it, although I don’t lose sleep to it), I’ve spent the past ten years thinking I was doing pretty well on volume level.
It’s not that I can’t be loud. I learned what my voice could do when I was thirteen or so and spent my Saturdays on picket lines in front of Woolworth’s because the store’s lunch counters in the South refused to serve African-Americans. It was my first independent political activity. We handed out leaflets and chanted slogans, and I was young enough to think we could end segregation by being loud, so I was loud. Without anyone teaching it to me how to do it, I stumbled into the trick that lets your voice feel like it’s coming directly from the chest, bypassing the throat and emerging into the world resonant enough to shatter antiquated and oppressive social systems.
Changing the world has turned out to be more complicated than I thought, but that form of segregation did eventually end and what we did wasn’t the primary reason but it wasn’t irrelevant either. And I walked away with an interesting education as well as a powerful sense of what my voice could do.
Somewhere during that time, I heard Odetta sing. She had a huge voice—strong, resonant, and lower than most women were willing, or maybe able, to sing—and she gave me an expansive sense of what a woman’s voice is capable of. If you’ve never heard her, follow the link. She’s gorgeous.
But enough background. We’re talking about noise levels and culture clash.
Not long ago, I attended a conference about health care, social care, and politics, which are a potent combination and should not be mixed by any but the most expert of bartenders. An amateur is likely to screw it up so badly that they’ll blow the country’s infrastructure to bits. Unfortunately, Britain’s recent governments have been sticking nursery school kids behind the bar and encouraging them to pour any old thing into whatever else they find. Which is why we felt the need for a conference.
In the afternoon, J., who was chairing the conference, tried to gather everyone back together after a break. Now, J. has a small voice and at that moment had a mic that wasn’t working. So although she spoke politely and Britishly about ending the several dozen conversations that were going on and starting the meeting again, no one stopped talking.
I do like to solve problems, and I’d helped organize the conference so I felt some sense of responsibility, and without giving it three seconds’ thought I bellowed something along the lines of, “Okay, people, let’s get back together now.”
Silence fell with all the subtlety of a grand piano smashing down from a roof top. Two men sitting behind me levitated off their chairs, then crashed back into them and giggled nervously. Not being a mind reader, I can’t say for a fact that they were critical of me for bellowing, but they were—nervous is probably a fair observation. Not sure what to do in the situation. Maybe they thought I was dangerous. Without question they thought I wasn’t British, although the accent should have given that away much earlier in the day.
It did work, though. People sat down. They turned forward to listen to J. Maybe because it gave them a reason to not look at me.
It’s like that, living in a culture you didn’t grow up in. Or it is for me. I trot along happily, thinking I’m not offending anyone, then I do something that seems perfectly natural and blast two grown men off their chairs and push a piano off the roof.
How many people did I offend or shock? All? None? Most? Some? I have no idea. I asked N. later on, and he deflected the conversation so gracefully that I didn’t realize until later than he hadn’t answered my question.
And the worst of it? I can’t help thinking it was funny, although I suspect I should be feeling bad about it.
*
I can’t end without acknowledging that Americans aren’t the only loud people on the planet. Wild Thing and I were in Hong Kong once, and when she realized she wasn’t the noisiest person in the room she fell in love with the place.
I think the title of Graham Greene’s novel “The Quiet American” may contain an allusion to the idea that quietness in an American is perceived as unusual.
Prejudices are often unfair.
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I kept hearing the title echoing in my head as I wrote the post, and I wanted to play off it a bit but it took me off in too many other directions, so in the end I let it go. Good novel, though.
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Pink as opposed to white campion.
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My flower books lists it as red, but I can’t argue with calling it pink.
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Yet more smiles whilst reading you…thank you Ellen … and thanks for introducing me to Odetta Holmes. Not heard of her before but I will search out more from a grand singer …
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Glad you feel that way. What a voice!
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I’m loud. My husband is always shushing me, and that just pisses me off.
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Yup, that would get to me too.
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Brummies (natives of Birmingham, West Midlands) talk loudly – as my non-Brummie partner often reminds me. I always notice it when I go back to the city, and especially at get-togethers with my Brummie relatives. I can’t comment on the volume levels in Birmingham, Alabama though.
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Neither can I, now that you mention it.
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It just occurred to me that maybe the loudness of the Brummie voice is one of the reasons why Birmingham is the home of Heavy-Metal music. In that genre, you have to sing loud above the instruments, so I guess Robert Plant and Ozzy Osbourne were ideal for the job of lead-singer in their respective Metal bands.
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Or maybe it works the other way around: Everyone started talking loud enough to be heard over the music. Or after listening to the music, they became so deaf they don’t know how loud they are.
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I loved your tale of calling the floor to order, Ellen – I can just envision the shocked faces and startled reactions.
I never realized that Americans, on the whole, are a loud culture. I often get ‘shushed’ because I’m louder than most…so I thought it was just me.
I learned to be loud because I used to work on a shop floor in an industry that finished paper labels – if you didn’t scream above the noise of the machinery, you weren’t heard. The best description I came up with to explain the noise in a printing/finishing shop was “It’s like working inside a gigantic vacuum cleaner.”
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Great description. I can’t help imagining someone who just can’t bring themselves to shout plonked in the middle of that mayhem…
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If they absolutely couldn’t bring themselves to raise their voices, I’d suggest aggressive waving of paper scraps (which, on my old shop floor, were EVERYWHERE), throwing things, and over-exaggerated gestures.
What I wouldn’t suggest would be to walk up to someone and touch their shoulder, unless the intention was to get said someone to jump out of their skin.
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I have very little experience in this area. I’ve been to England once, and I am periodically in meetings with British participants. They seem loud enough to get attention, even when sober. I have to say that when I was in London, I tried to pay attention to my presence so I didn’t look like an American tourist. Then I met a friend, we stopped being sober, and…
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Yup. If it happens again, just sing. They’ll think you’re British. A lot of English (and I think generally British) singers slide into an American accent when they sing. And when drunk, they do sing. No one will know a thing.
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Good to know.
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I do so love to be helpful.
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I liked your humour, and stories about US /UK ‘s voices. As a Brit, even I am aware that some people here are ever-so self-effacing. Someone I know apologises when she is bumped into ! Can’t say I’ve met any very loud Americans. Do have a quietly spoken Canadian friend. That’s different, I guess ? On a flight to Alaska one time, the in-flight menu said : ‘Tea sandwiches of the British Isles’ … funny, not loudness related though.
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It is funny, though. I just love all those descriptions that sneak their way into menus.
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I always think of us Americans as the teenagers of the world and we all know how loud teenagers are!!!
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I have a hunch a lot of other countries think of us that way, not so much because we’re loud but because we can be brash and naive and convinced we know everything.
Sigh.
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Yes, we are quite the know-it-alls and often enough stuck in our own heads. We have some good points too, though!
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We do indeed, spontaneity and enthusiasm among them.
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I fear the stereotype is true. Americans are a tad louder, I do believe, than their British peers. I have no idea why that might be but you could well be onto something with Britain’s insistence on maintaining Victorian values as they pertain to being a nation of wallflowers and children being “seen and not heard”. It is with children, indeed, that I notice the difference. Having worked in education on both shores of the Atlantic, I really notice that American kids generally seem to be more keen on volume than their British counterparts. Of course, all of this is a sweeping generalisation since my oldest son has had to be told several hundred times in his life to lower his volume before he ruptures his vocal cords. Despite that, every teacher my kids have had in this country has stated that my sons are very quiet. Maybe that is the British half of them.
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I guess the true test will be when they visit Britain again: Will they seem loud by comparison to the other kids?
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True.
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I can recall my first time in London, in the tube in an elevator. You could have heard a pin drop. Until two of my high school tour group got on the elevator. I was mortified. Then again, I have been known to project my voice, too. But never in an elevator!
When I lived in Geneva, you could always tell the Americans from the Canadians — not from their accents, but from the volume. We ‘mericans are loud.
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And it’s never as noticeable as when we’re abroad.
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In my experience (31 years as a grade school teacher) what you did was use your “teacher voice.” Sometimes ya gotta.
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You’re kind to suggest that, but no, I was well beyond teacher voice. More into trumpets outside Jericho voice.
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Loved Odetta (likely still do – I need to go back up and click on your link). I seem to remember a concert she did with Belafonte. Truly marvelous stuff there!
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She was one of the real ones–a voice and a style that were completely her own.
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There are plenty of loud people in the world. You are right. The British are beyond polite. They don’t like to call attention to themselves unless they are someone in the public eye. Unfortunately, the media has only added to the impression of Americans as the world’s buffoons. I like your posts, Ellen. They are refreshing. They are humorous and they make me think. Brava!
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Many thanks for that.
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My pleasure, Ellen. Your blog is like a lovely holiday.
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Something we all need these days.
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Very interesting post Ellen.
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You may well be aware of the large contingent of US servicemen and women the UK used to have, (it has dwindled now and is still dwindling) manning the NATO bases. Yes, Americans are loud when compared to most Brits – but my goodness how we LOVED them being in our everyday lives.
Of course, there was huge discrimination against these brash boys in uniform because our mothers feared their allure for us teenagers. RAF Bentwaters and RAF Woodbridge were used as USAF Nato bases and were only a few miles away from my home town. Our pubs were full of them on a Saturday night and we were under pain of death not to talk to them. I complied – well – mostly :-) However, after I emmigrated to Canada and lived in an apartment building that housed a large number of draft dodgers – I met the long-haired hippy types, vastly different from the military lads I knew.
I loved them all and found them so courteous and respectful. When I came home for holidays in my late teens, early 20s, I defied all orders and made many friends on the bases because the UK was just too quiet for me. I partied into the small hours out on the base and smoked weed in the barracks after being smuggled in – and no, I never compromised my own morals (well apart from the dope). Long live loudness and God Bless America – I would live there even now if I could – yes I know about DT of course but I would still go if I could – or even back to canada.
Lovely post Ellen – made me smile!
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Thanks, Gilly, and the picture of you getting smuggled onto base made me smile as well. I picture you in the trunk of the car or the floor of the back seat and everyone trying to act normal–and failing. I’d have loved to see it.
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Ha ha – pretty much spot on! What a floosie. :-) So thankful at 60 that I have those days to look back on! Wouldn’t happen now with security the way it is. One of my GI friends got kicked out of the USAF for lining his rented house near the base with aluminum foil and growing pot.
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Those were the days, weren’t they?
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I’ve known plenty of quiet Americans, but also ones who I wouldn’t exactly call loud in voice, but loud in action. For instance, they would see something they like and purposefully stride towards it at the same time as exclaiming ‘wow! Look at that!” So probably the difference is that the average Brit wouldn’t, they’d think but not vocalise it.
As for me, I have a tiny voice but even with a tiny voice I find that “shut the fuck up!” works well even in a room full of people. (Grins.)
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Truly. Fuck is a very loud word, even when it’s whispered.
I just came back from a village craft sale, and a woman who sells knitted and crocheted work as well as some paintings was telling me about an American who bought her most expensive afghan and a painting with the sort of immediacy you describe, although if she said, “Wow,” I didn’t hear about it. She–the woman selling the work–swore than no one British would have been as decisive about it.
I, on the other hand, spent a quarter of an hour waffling over whether to buy myself a brownie. In the end, I bought two and gave one to a friend. But the waffling? That seems to be part of the process for me. We don’t any of us fit the stereotypes entirely, I’d guess.
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That’s very true. I suspect that media (including blogs) help to encourage the idea that we do fit into stereotypes.
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When I was a kid, before blogs had been invented–in fact, it was before words had been invented–we still managed to promote stereotypes to each other. Without even knowing we were doing it.
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Yes, I remember those days too (I’m in my mid-sixties).
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I am from the US in Florida. I’ve lived here all my life and find people offensively loud. In stores, dining out, just in general loud. I would love to go to your country and experience quiet ! Very much
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That’s a reminder, in case we needed one, that no generalization about a country or a people covers everyone.
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Very interesting! I always wondered if that stereotype was true.
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You got the job done, and as you say, you love to be helpful. Isn’t that what you are meant to do??
Kathleen
Bloggers Pit Stop
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Sort of. If I could do it without making people swallow their teeth, that might be an improvement.
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Once I read an article in the Herald Tribune called ‘Tongue-tied and shouting at foreigners’. It was about the British refusing to learn any languages and instead raising their voices higher and higher in the vain hope the natives would understand what they’re saying. So apparently they can be loud in some circumstances after all…
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Good point. I suspect that’s tied to a kind of arrogance that American’s aren’t immune to either: Foreigners don’t matter, so shouting’s okay. Only Americans don’t tend to shout–at least as far as I know. They just expect people the world around to understand them.
Of course, even those are stereotypes. They fit a certain number of people, but they have their limits.
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Of course- but good for a bit of gentle irony😌
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Yup.
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. I was in Germany with a bunch of Americans. We were actually talking softly, mature, European like. We were on a tour of the Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. Suddenly from far away we could hear a loud, almost shouting group approaching that didn’t get softer, only got louder as they approached the castle, and by then it was as if a flock of ravens had come in to destroy the quiet simplicity of the event- the noise was shocking,, like when you’re in a bar, music is playing, and you have to shout to be heard- yet there was no music playing, and everyone else was quiet. We looked aghast, AGHAST!!! at the group… YOU MEAN THAT’S HOW EUROPEANS SEE AMERICANS!!!??? Ah well… I can accept that. (Not sure Spaniards I know would accept my observation, but it is a true story!)
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The group that had approached was a group of young Spaniards, that destroyed the silence.
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Interesting. I wonder if almost any group of people can crank themselves up to break the rules. You know–you become part of the group, get lost in it, and when it sets its own rules they seem fine as long as you’re inside it.
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There is nothing on earth louder than a family of Americans gathered around the table at Thanksgiving. Trust me on this (!)
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I do. Completely.
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Haven’t any of you ever been to Italy? or on a skiing slope with Spaniards announcing their presence from the other side of the mountain? Come on, Anglo-Saxon of any and all hues are more discreet :)
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I actually have been to Italy. And Spain. And no one struck me as loud. Which probably tells you more about me than about them.
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Haha! Before the advent of low cost flights, I used to visit my relatives in Switzerland by train. It was always such a relief crossing the border into Switzerland, I’d finally hear myself think enough to understand whatever book I’d been trying to read since leaving Rome. Noise volume would drop to whisper as if by magic :)
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Maybe it’s something in the air.
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An Australian friend told me this joke; “How can you tell when a planeload of Brits has landed on the runway? Even after the engines are switched off, you can still hear the whinging.”
Every people has their loud moments. :).
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I wonder if that’s about noise level of the importance of complaining in the British culture. Either way, it made me giggle.
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Gosh! I love this so much! I came back 3 weeks ago for my 3 month long-term study abroad program in the U.K. and it reminded me of my friends and I (30 Americans in the program) being the loudest people ever 😂 I love this, brings back memories
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It’s great (along with, occasionally, cringe-making) to see yourself from the outside, isn’t it?
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Haha indeed! Especially when we go out for dinner at a restaurant and we are the loudest people there. There was an incident as well when the afternoon after the elections, we went out for a pint (take away the frustrations, haha) we were upset and we were just going at it and the table next to us kept looking at us.
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I’ve lived here long enough to tell you that being looked at is one level of disapproval, but being tutted? That’s when you’ve really crossed the line.
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We learned not to be loud, but we couldn’t really stick to it. It’s just the way we are haha plus we don’t say anything when they’re drunk and saying nonsense, so let us be
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It’s surprising how hard it is to adapt to another culture. We keep coming back to our deeper–or is that earlier? or real?–selves. Something I wish I could convince people of when they complain about immigrants who are too much like (gasp) immigrants. I’d like to see them move to another country and blend in seamlessly.
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Right on!
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