Where 👏 do 👏 the 👏 claps 👏 go 👏 when 👏 you 👏 write 👏 like 👏 this 👏?

You may already be familiar with the phenomena I’m going to be talking about today: when someone punctuates some text with the clap emoji. It’s a pretty transparent gestural scoring and (for me) immediately brings to mind the way my mom would clap with every word when she was particularly exasperated with my sibling and I (it was usually along with speech like “let’s go, let’s go, let’s go” or “get up now”). It looks like so:

This innovation, which started on Black Twitter is really interesting to me because it ties in with my earlier work on emoji ordering. I want to know where emojis go, particularly in relation to other words. Especially since people have since extended this usage to other emoji, like the US Flag:

Logically, there are several different ways you can intersperse clap emojis with text:

  • Claps 👏  are 👏 used 👏 between 👏 every 👏 word.
  •  👏 Claps 👏 are 👏 used 👏 around 👏 every 👏 word. 👏
  •  👏 Claps 👏 are 👏 used 👏 before 👏 every 👏 word.
  • Claps 👏 are 👏 used 👏 after 👏 every 👏 word. 👏
  • Claps 👏 are used 👏 between phrases 👏 not words

I want to know which of these best describes what people actually do. I’m not aiming to write an internet style guide, but I am hoping to characterize this phenomena in a general way: this is how most people who do this do it, and if you want to use this style in a natural way, you should probably do it the same way.

Data

I used Fireant to grab 10,000 tweets from the Twitter streaming API which had the clap emoji in them at least once. (Twitter doesn’t let you search for a certain number of matches of the same string. If you search for “blob” and “blob blob” you’ll get the same set of results.)

Analysis

From that set of 10,000 tweets, I took only the tweets that had a clap emoji followed by a word followed by another clap emoji and threw out any repeats. That left me with 260 tweets. (This may seem pretty small compared to my starting dataset, but there were a lot of retweets in there, and I didn’t want to count anything twice.) Then I removed @usernames, since those show up in the beginning of any tweet that’s a reply to someone, and URL’s, which I don’t really think of as “words”. Finally, I looked at each word in a tweet and marked whether it was a clap or not. You can see the results of that here:

timecourse

The “word” axis represents which word in the tweet we’re looking at: the first, second, third, etc. The red portion of the bar are the words that are the clap emoji. The yellow portion is the words that aren’t. (BTW, big shoutout to Hadley Wickham’s emo(ji) package for letting me include emoji in plots!)

From this we can see a clear pattern: almost no one starts a tweet with an emoji, but most people follow the first word with an emoji. The up-down-up-down pattern means that people are alternating the clap emoji with one word. So if we look back at our hypotheses about how emoji are used, we can see right off the bat that three of them are wrong:

  • Claps 👏  are 👏 used 👏 between 👏 every 👏 word.
  •  👏 Claps 👏 are 👏 used 👏 around 👏 every 👏 word. 👏
  •  👏 Claps 👏 are 👏 used 👏 before 👏 every 👏 word.
  • Claps 👏 are 👏 used 👏 after 👏 every 👏 word. 👏
  • Claps 👏 are used 👏 between phrases 👏 not words

We can pick between the two remaining hypotheses by looking at whether people are ending thier tweets with a clap emoji. As it turns out, the answer is “yes”, more often than not.

endWithClap

If they’re using this clapping-between-words pattern (sometimes called the “ratchet clap“) people are statistically more likely to end their tweet with a clap emoji than with a different word or non-clap emoji. This means the most common pattern is to use 👏 a 👏 clap 👏 after 👏 every 👏 word, 👏  including  👏 the  👏 last. 👏

This makes intuitive sense to me. This pattern is mimicking someone is clapping on every word. Since we can’t put emoji on top of words to indicate that they’re happening at the same time, putting them after makes good intuitive sense. In some sense, each emoji is “attached” to the word that comes before it in a similar way to how “quickly” is “attached” to “run” in the phrase “run quickly”. It makes less sense to put emoji between words, becuase then you end up with less claps than words, which doesn’t line up well with the way this is done in speech.

The “clap after every word” pattern is also what this website that automatically puts claps in your tweets does, so I’m pretty positive this is a good characterization of community norms.

 

So there you have it! If you’re going to put clap emoji in your tweets, you should probably do 👏 it 👏 like 👏 this. 👏 It’s not wrong if you don’t, but it does look kind of weird.

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Contest announcement! Making noise and going places ✈️🛄

I recently wrote the acknowledgements section my dissertation and it really put into perspective how much help I’ve received during my degree. I’ve decided to pass some of that on by helping out others! Specifically, I’ve decided to help make travelling to conferences a little more affordable for linguistics students who are from underrepresented minorities (African American, American Indian/Alaska Native, or Latin@), LGBT or have a disability.

Biologist speaking at the Friday morning Town Hall session, where attendees were welcome to discuss their ideas on how to further landscape conservation. (5471417317)

To enter:

Entry is open to any student (graduate or undergraduate) studying any aspect of language (broadly defined) who is from an underrepresented minority (African American, American Indian/Alaska Native, or Latin@), LGBT or has a disability.  E-mail me and attach:

  • An abstract or paper that has been accepted at an upcoming (i.e. starting after June 23, 2017) conference
  • The acceptance letter/email from the conference
  • A short biography/description of your work

One entry per person, please!

Prizes:

I’ll pick up to two entries. Each winner will receive 100 American dollars to help them with costs associated with the conference, and I’ll write a blog post highlighting each winner’s research.

Contest closes July 31I’ll contact winners by July 5

Good luck!

 

What is computational sociolinguistics? (And who’s doing it?)

If you follow me on Twitter (@rctatman) you probably already know that I defended my dissertation last week. That’s right: I’m now officially Dr. Tatman! [party horn emoji]

I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on all the minutia of writing a dissertation lately, from formatting references to correcting a lot of typos (my committee members are all heroes). As a result, I’m more than ready to zoom out and think about big-picture stuff for a little while. And, in academia at least, pictures don’t get much bigger than whole disciplines. Which brings me to the title of this blog post: computational sociolinguistics. I’ve talked about my different research projects quite a bit on this blog (and I’ve got a couple more projects coming up that I’m excited to share with y’all!) but they can seem a little bit scattered. What do patterns of emoji use have to do with how well speech recognition systems deal with different dialects with how people’s political affiliation is reflected in their punctuation use? The answer is that they all fall within the same discipline: computational sociolingustics.

Computational sociolinguistics is a fairly new field that lies at the intersection of two other, more established fields: computational linguistics and sociolinguistics. You’re actually probably already familiar with at least some of the work being done in computational linguistics and its sister field of Natural Language Processing (commonly called NLP). The technologies that allow us to interact with computers or phones using human language, rather than binary 1’s and 0’s, are the result of decades of research in these fields. Everything from spell check, to search engines that know that “puppy” and “dog” are related topics, to automatic translation are the result of researchers working in computational linguistics and NLP.

Sociolinguistics is another well-established field, which focuses on the effects of social context on language how we use language and understand. “Social context”, in this case, can be everything from someone’s identity–like their gender or where they’re from–to the specific linguistic situation they’re in, like how much they like the person they’re talking to or whether or not they think they can be overheard. While a lot of work in sociolinguistics is more qualitative, describing observations without a lot of exact measures, of it is also quantitative.

So what happens when you squish these to fields together? For me, the result is work that focuses on research questions that would be more likely to be asked by sociolinguistics, but using methods from computational linguistics and NLP. It also means asking sociolinguistic questions about how we use language in computational context, drawing on the established research fields of Computer Mediated Communication (CMC), Computational Social Science (CSS) and corpus linguistics, but with a stronger focus on sociolingusitics.

One difficult thing about working in a very new field, however, is that it doesn’t have the established social infrastructure that older fields do. If you do variationist sociolinguistics, for example, there’s an established conference (New Ways of Analyzing Variation, or NWAV) and journals (Language Variation and Change, American Speech, the Journal of Sociolinguistics). Older fields also have an established set of social norms. For instance, conferences are considered more prestigious research venues in computational linguistics, while for sociolinguistics journal publications are usually preferred. But computational sociolinguistics doesn’t really have any of that yet. There also isn’t an established research canon, or any textbooks, or a set of studies that you can assume most people in the field have had exposure to (with the possible exception of Dong et al.’s really fabulous survey article). This is exciting, but also a little bit scary, and really frustrating if you want to learn more about it. Science is about the communities that do it as much as it is about the thing that you’re investigating, and as it stands there’s not really an established formal computational sociolinguistics community that you can join.

Fortunately, I’ve got your back. Below, I’ve collected a list of a few of the scholars whose work I’d consider to be computational sociolinguistics along with small snippets of how they describe their work on their personal websites. This isn’t a complete list, by any means, but it’s a good start and should help you begin to learn a little bit more about this young discipline.

  • Jacob Eisenstein at Georgia Tech
    • “My research combines machine learning and linguistics to build natural language processing systems that are robust to contextual variation and offer new insights about social phenomena.”
  • Jack Grieve at the University of Birmingham
    • “My research focuses on the quantitative analysis of language variation and change. I am especially interested in grammatical and lexical variation in the English language across time and space and the development of new methods for collecting and analysing large corpora of natural language.”
  • Dirk Hovy at the University of Copenhagen
  • Michelle A. McSweeney at Columbia
    • “My research can be summed up by the question: How do we convey tone in text messaging? In face-to-face conversations, we rely on vocal cues, facial expressions, and other non-linguistic features to convey meaning. These features are absent in text messaging, yet digital communication technologies (text messaging, email, etc.) have entered nearly every domain of modern life. I identify the features that facilitate successful communication on these platforms and understand how the availability of digital technologies (i.e., mobile phones) has helped to shape urban spaces.”
  • Dong Nguyen at the University of Edinburgh & Alan Turing Institute
    • “I’m interested in Natural Language Processing and Information Retrieval, and in particular computational text analysis for research questions from the social sciences and humanities. I especially enjoy working with social media data.”
  • Sravana Reddy at Wellesley
    • “My recent interests center around computational sociolinguistics and the intersection between natural language processing and privacy. In the past, I have worked on unsupervised learning, pronunciation modeling, and applications of NLP to creative language.”
  • Tyler Schnoebelen at Decoded AI Consulting
    • “I’m interested in how people make meaning with language. My PhD is from Stanford’s Department of Linguistics (my dissertation was on language and emotion). I’ve also founded a natural language processing start-up (four years), did UX research at Microsoft (ten years) and ran the features desk of a national newspaper in Pakistan (one year).”
  • (Ph.D. Candidate) Philippa Shoemark at the University of Edinburgh
    • “My research interests span computational linguistics, natural language processing, cognitive modelling, and complex networks. I am currently using computational methods to identify social and individual factors that condition linguistic variation and change on social media, under the supervision of Sharon Goldwater and James Kirby.”
  • (Ph.D. Candidate) Sean Simpson at Georgetown University
    • “My interests include computa­tional socio­linguistics, socio­phonetics, language variation, and conservation & revitalization of endangered languages. My dissertation focuses on the incorporation of sociophonetic detail into automated speaker profiling systems.”

How many people in the US don’t have an accent?

First, the linguist’s answer: none. Zero. Everyone who uses a language uses a variety of that language, one that reflects their social identity–including things like gender, socioeconomic status or regional background.

But the truth is that some people, especially in the US, have the social privileged of being considered “unaccented”.  I can’t count how many times I’ve been “congratulated” by new acquaintances on having “gotten rid of” my Virginia accent. The thing is, I do have a lot of linguistic features from Tidewater/Piedmont English, like a strong distinction between the vowels in “body” and “baudy”, “y’all” for the second person plural and calling a drive-through liquor store a “brew thru” (shirts with this guy on them were super popular in my high school). But, at the same time, I also don’t have a lot of strongly stigmatized features, like dropping r’s or strong monopthongization you’d hear from a speaker like Virgil Goode (although most folks don’t really sound like that anymore). Plus, I’m young, white, (currently) urban and really highly educated. That, plus the fact that most people don’t pick up on the Southern features I do have, means that I have the privilege of being perceived as accent-less.

You_all_and_Y'all
Map showing the distribution of speakers in the United States who use “y’all”.

But how many people in the US are in the same boat as I am? This is a difficult question, especially given that there is no wide consensus about what “standard”, or “unaccented”, American English is. There is, however, a lot of discussion about what it’s not. In particular, educated speakers from the Midwest and West are generally considered to be standard speakers by non-linguists. Non-linguists also generally don’t consider speakers of African American English and Chicano English to be “standard” speakers (even though both of these are robust, internally consistent language varieties with long histories used by native English speakers).  Fortunately for me, the United States census asks census-takers about their language background, race and ethnicity, educational attainment and geographic location, so I could use census data to roughly estimate how many speakers of “standard” English there are in the United States. I chose to use the 2011 census, as detailed data on language use has been released for that year on a state-by-state basis (you can see a summary here).

From this data, I calculated how many individuals were living in states assigned by the U.S. Census Bureau to either the West or Midwest and how many residents surveyed in these states reported speaking English ‘very well’ or better. Then, assuming that residents of these states had educational attainment rates representative of national averages, I estimated how many college educated (with a bachelor’s degree or above) non-Black and non-Hispanic speakers lived in these areas.

So just how many speakers fit into this “standard” mold? Fewer than you might expect! You can see the breakdown below:

Speakers in the 2011 census who…

Count

% of US Population

…live in the United States…

311.7 million

100%

…and live in the Midwest or West…

139,968,791

44.9%

…and speak English at least ‘very well’…

127,937,178

41%

…and are college educated…

38,381,153 (estimated)

12.31%

…and are not Black or Hispanic.

33,391,603 (estimated)

10.7%

Based on the criteria laid out above, only around a tenth of the US population would count as ‘standard’ speakers. Now, keep in mind this estimate is possibly somewhat conservative: not all Black speakers use African American English and not all Hispanic speakers use Chicano English, and the regional dialects of some parts of the Northeast are also sometimes considered “standard”, which isn’t reflected in my rough calculation. That said, I think there’s still something if a large majority of Americans don’t speak what we might consider “standard” English, maybe it’s time to start redefining who gets to be the standard.

Are “a female” and “a male” used differently?

In this first part of this two-post series, I looked at how “a male” and “a female” were used on Twitter. I found that one part of speech tagger tagged “male” as a proper noun really frequently (which is weird, cause it isn’t one) and that overall the phrase “a female” was waaaay more frequent. Which is  interesting in itself, since my initial question was “are these terms used differently?” and these findings suggest that they are. But the second question is how are these terms used differently? To answer this, we’ll need to get a little more qualitative with it.

Using the same set of tweets that I collected last time, I randomly selected 100 tweets each from the “a male” and “a female” dataset. Then I hand tagged each subset of tweets for two things: the topic of the tweet (who or what was being referred to as “male” or “female”) and the part of speech of “male”  or “female”.

Who or what is being called “male” or “female”?

Rplot

Because there were so few tweets to analyze, I could do a content analysis. This is a methodology that is really useful when you don’t know for sure ahead of time what types of categories you’re going to see in your data. It’s like clustering that a human does.

Going into this analysis, I thought that there might be a difference between these datasets in terms of how often each term was used to refer to an animal, so I tagged tweets for that. But as I went through the tweets, I was floored by the really high number of tweets talking about trans people, especially Mack Beggs, a trans man from Texas who was forced to wrestle in the women’s division. Trans men were referred to as “a male” really, really often. While there wasn’t a reliable difference between how often “a female” and “a male” was used to refer to animals or humans, there was a huge difference in terms of how often they were  used to refer to trans people. “A male” was significantly more likely to be used to describe a trans person than “a female” (X2 (2, N = 200) = 55.33, p <.001.)

Part of Speech

Since the part of speech taggers I used for the first half of my analysis gave me really mixed results, I also hand tagged the part of speech of “male” or “female” in my samples. In line with my predictions during data collection, the only parts of speech I saw were nouns and adjectives.

When I looked at just the difference between nouns and adjectives, there was a little difference, but nothing dramatic. Then, I decided to break it down a little further. Rather than just looking at the differences in part of speech between “male” and “female”, I looked at the differences in part of speech and whether the tweet was about a trans person or a cis (not trans) person.

Rplot01

For tweets with “female”, it was used as a noun and an adjective at pretty much the same rates regardless of whether someone was talking about a trans person or a cis (non-trans) person. For tweets with “male”, though, when the tweet was about a trans person, it was used almost exclusively as a noun.

And there was a huge difference there. A large majority of tweets with “a male” and talking about a trans person used “male” as a noun. In fact, more than a third of my subsample of tweets using “a male” were using it as a noun to talk about someone who was trans.

So what’s going on here? This construction (using “male” or “female” as a noun to refer to a human) is used more often to talk about:

  1. Women. (Remember that in the first blog post looking at this, I found that “a female” is twice a common as “a male.)
  2. Trans men.

These both make sense if you consider the cultural tendency to think about cis men as, in some sense, the “default”. (Deborah Tannen has a really good discussion of this her article “Marked Women, Unmarked Men“. “Marked” is a linguistics term which gets used in a lot of ways, but generally means something like “not the default” or “the weird one”.) So people seem to be more likely to talk about a person being “a male” or “a female” when they’re talking about anyone but a cis man.

A note on African American English

giphy.gif

I should note that many of the tweets in my sample were African American English, which is not surprising given the large Black community on Twitter, and that use of “female” as a noun is a feature of this variety.  However, the parallel term used to refer to men in this variety is not “a man” or even “a male”, but rather “nigga”, with that spelling. This is similar to “dude” or “guy”: a nonspecific term for any man, regardless of race, as discussed at length by Rachel Jeantal here. You can see an example of this usage in speech above (as seen in the Netflix show “The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt“) or in this vine. (I will note, however, that it only has this connotation if used by a speaker of African American English. Borrowing it into another variety, especially if the speaker is white, will change the meaning.)

Now, I’m not a native user of African American English, so I don’t have strong intuitions about the connotation of this usage. Taylor Amari Little (who you may know from her TEDx talk on Revolutionary Self-Produced Justice) is, though, and tweeted this (quoted with permission):

If they call women “females” 24/7, leave em alone chile, run away

And this does square with my own intuitions: there’s something slightly sinister about someone who refers to women exclusively as “females”. As journalist Vonny Moyes pointed out in her recent coverage of ads offering women free rent in exchange for sexual favors, they almost refer to women as “girls or females – rarely ever women“. Personally, I find that very good motivation not to use “a male” or “a female” to talk about any human.

Can what you think you know about someone affect how you hear them?

I’ll get back to “a male/a female” question in my next blog post (promise!), but for now I want to discuss some of the findings from my dissertation research. I’ve talked about my dissertation research a couple times before, but since I’m going to be presenting some of it in Spain (you can read the full paper here), I thought it would be a good time to share some of my findings.

In my dissertation, I’m looking at how what you think you know about a speaker affects what you hear them say. In particular, I’m looking at American English speakers who have just learned to correctly identify the vowels of New Zealand English. Due to an on-going vowel shift, the New Zealand English vowels are really confusing for an American English speaker, especially the vowels in the words “head”, “head” and “had”.

tokensVowelPlot

This plot shows individual vowel tokens by the frequency of thier first and second formants (high-intensity frequency bands in the vowel). Note that the New Zealand “had” is very close to the US “head”, and the New Zealand “head” is really close to the US “hid”.

These overlaps can be pretty confusing when American English speakers are talking to New Zealand English speakers, as this Flight of the Conchords clip shows!

The good news is that, as language users, we’re really good at learning new varieties of languages we already know, so it only takes a couple minutes for an American English speaker to learn to correctly identify New Zealand English vowels. My question was this: once an American English speaker has learned to understand the vowels of New Zealand English, how do they know when to use this new understanding?

In order to test this, I taught twenty one American English speakers who hadn’t had much, if any, previous exposure to New Zealand English to correctly identify the vowels in the words “head”, “heed” and “had”. While I didn’t play them any examples of a New Zealand “hid”–the vowel in “hid” is said more quickly in addition to having different formants, so there’s more than one way it varies–I did let them say that they’d heard “hid”, which meant I could tell if they were making the kind of mistakes you’d expect given the overlap between a New Zealand “head” and American “hid”.

So far, so good: everyone quickly learned the New Zealand English vowels. To make sure that it wasn’t that they were learning to understand the one talker they’d been listening to, I tested half of my listeners on both American English and New Zealand English vowels spoken by a second, different talker. These folks I told where the talker they were listening to was from. And, sure enough, they transferred what they’d learned about New Zealand English to the new New Zealand speaker, while still correctly identifying vowels in American English.

The really interesting results here, though, are the ones that came from the second half the listeners. This group I lied to. I know, I know, it wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but it was in the name of science and I did have the approval of my institutional review board, (the group of people responsible for making sure we scientists aren’t doing anything unethical).

In an earlier experiment, I’d played only New Zealand English as this point, and when I told them the person they were listening to was from America, they’d completely changed the way they listened to those vowels: they labelled New Zealand English vowels as if they were from American English, even though they’d just learned the New Zealand English vowels. And that’s what I found this time, too. Listeners learned the New Zealand English vowels, but “undid” that learning if they thought the speaker was from the same dialect as them.

But what about when I played someone vowels from their own dialect, but told them the speaker was from somewhere else? In this situation, listeners ignored my lies. They didn’t apply the learning they’d just done. Instead, the correctly treated the vowels of thier own dialect as if they were, in fact, from thier dialect.

At first glance, this seems like something of a contradiction: I just said that listeners rely on social information about the person who’s talking, but at the same time they ignore that same social information.

So what’s going on?

I think there are two things underlying this difference. The first is the fact that vowels move. And the second is the fact that you’ve heard a heck of a lot more of your own dialect than one you’ve been listening to for fifteen minutes in a really weird training experiment.

So what do I mean when I say vowels move? Well, remember when I talked about formants above? These are areas of high acoustic energy that occur at certain frequency ranges within a vowel and they’re super important to human speech perception. But what doesn’t show up in the plot up there is that these aren’t just static across the course of the vowel–they move. You might have heard of “diphthongs” before: those are vowels where there’s a lot of formant movement over the course of the vowel.

And the way that vowels move is different between different dialects. You can see the differences in the way New Zealand and American English vowels move in the figure below. Sure, the formants are in different places—but even if you slid them around so that they overlapped, the shape of the movement would still be different.

formantDynamics

Comparison of how the New Zealand and American English vowels move. You can see that the shape of the movement for each vowel is really different between these two dialects.  

Ok, so the vowels are moving in different ways. But why are listeners doing different things between the two dialects?

Well, remember how I said earlier that you’ve heard a lot more of your own dialect than one you’ve been trained on for maybe five minutes? My hypothesis is that, for the vowels in your own dialect, you’re highly attuned to these movements. And when a scientist (me) comes along and tells you something that goes against your huge amount of experience with these shapes, even if you do believe them, you’re so used to automatically understanding these vowels that you can’t help but correctly identify them. BUT if you’ve only heard a little bit of a new dialect you don’t have a strong idea of what these vowels should sound like, so if you’re going to rely more on the other types of information available to you–like where you’re told the speaker is from–even if that information is incorrect.

So, to answer the question I posed in the title, can what you think you know about someone affect how you hear them? Yes… but only if you’re a little uncertain about what you heard in the first place, perhaps becuase it’s a dialect you’re unfamiliar with.

What’s up with calling a woman “a female”? A look at the parts of speech of “male” and “female” on Twitter .

This is something I’ve written about before, but I’ve recently had several discussions with people who say they don’t find it odd to refer to a women as a female. Personally, I don’t like being called “a female” becuase its a term I to associate strongly with talking about animals. (Plus, it makes you sound like a Ferengi.)  I would also protest men being called males, for the same reason, but my intuition is that that doesn’t happen as often. I’m willing to admit that my intuition may be wrong in this case, though, so I’ve decided to take a more data-driven approach. I had two main questions:

  • Do “male” and “female” get used as nouns at different rates?
  • Does one of these terms get used more often?

Data collection

I used the Twitter public API to collect two thousand English tweets, one thousand each containing the exact string “a male” and “a female”. I looked for these strings to help get as many tweets as possible with “male” or “female” used as a noun. “A” is what linguist call a determiner, and a determiner has to have a noun after it. It doesn’t have to be the very next word, though; you can get an adjective first, like so:

  • A female mathematician proved the theorm.
  • A female proved the theorm.

So this will let me directly compare these words in a situation where we should only be able to see a limited number of possible parts of speech & see if they differ from each other. Rather than tagging two thousand tweets by hand, I used a Twitter specific part-of-speech tagger to tag each set of tweets.

A part of speech tagger is a tool that guesses the part of speech of every word in a text. So if you tag a sentence like “Apples are tasty”, you should get back that “apples” is a plural noun, “are” is a verb and “tasty” is an adjective. You can try one out for yourself on-line here.

Parts of Speech

In line with my predictions, every instance of “male” or “female” was tagged as either a noun, an adjective or a hashtag. (I went through and looked at the hashtags and they were all porn bots. #gross #hazardsOfTwitterData)

However, not every noun was tagged as the same type of noun. I saw three types of tags in my data: NN (regular old noun), NNS (plural noun) and, unexpectedly, NNP (proper noun, singular). (If you’re confused by the weird upper case abbreviations, they’re the tags used in the Penn Treebank, and you can see the full list here.) In case it’s been a while since you studied parts of speech, proper nouns are things like personal or place names. The stuff that tend to get capitalized in English. The examples from the Penn Treebank documentation include “Motown”, “Venneboerger”,  and “Czestochwa”. I wouldn’t consider either “female” or “male” a name, so it’s super weird that they’re getting tagged as proper nouns. What’s even weirder? It’s pretty much only “male” that’s getting tagged as a proper noun, as you can see below:

maleVsFemalePOS

Number of times each word tagged as each part of speech by the GATE Twitter part-of-speech tagger. NNS is a plural noun, NNP a proper noun, NN a noun and JJ an adjective.

The differences in tagged POS between “male” and “female” was super robust(X2(6, N = 2033) = 1019.2, p <.01.). So what’s happening here?  My first thought was that it might be that, for some reason, “male” is getting capitalized more often and that was confusing the tagger. But when I looked into, there wasn’t a strong difference between the capitalization of “male” and “female”: both were capitalized about 3% of the time. 

My second thought was that it was a weirdness showing up becuase I used a tagger designed for Twitter data. Twitter is notoriously “messy” (in the sense that it can be hard for computers to deal with) so it wouldn’t be surprising if tagging “male” as a proper noun is the result of the tagger being trained on Twitter data. So, to check that, I re-tagged the same data using the Stanford POS tagger. And, sure enough, the weird thing where “male” is overwhelming tagged as a proper noun disappeared.

stanfordTaggerPOS

Number of times each word tagged as each part of speech by the Stanford POS tagger. NNS is a plural noun, NNP a proper noun, NN a noun, JJ an adjective and FW a “foreign word”.

So it looks like “male” being tagged as a proper noun is an artifact of the tagger being trained on Twitter data, and once we use a tagger trained on a different set of texts (in this case the Wall Street Journal) there wasn’t a strong difference in what POS “male” and “female” were tagged as.

Rate of Use

That said, there was a strong difference between “a female” and “a male”: how often they get used. In order to get one thousand tweets with the exact string “a female”, Twitter had to go back an hour and thirty-four minutes. In order to get a thousand tweets with “a male”, however, Twitter had to go back two hours and fifty eight minutes. Based on this sample, “a female” gets said almost twice as often as “a male”.

So what’s the deal?

  • Do “male” and “female” get used as nouns at different rates?  It depends on what tagger you use! In all seriousness, though, I’m not prepared to claim this based on the dataset I’ve collected.
  • Does one of these terms get used more often? Yes! Based on my sample, Twitter users use “a female” about twice as often as “a male”.

I think the greater rate of use of “a female” that points to the possibility of an interesting underlying difference in how “male” and “female” are used, one that calls for a closer qualitative analysis. Does one term get used to describe animals more often than the other? What sort of topics are people talking about when they say “a male” and “a female”? These questions, however, will have to wait for the next blog post!

In the meantime, I’m interested in getting more opinions on this. How do you feel about using “a male” and “a female” as nouns to talk about humans? Do they sound OK or strike you as odd?

My code and is available on my GitHub.

Should English be the official language of the United States?

There is currently a bill in the US House to make English the official language of the United States. These bills have been around for a while now. H.R. 997, also known as the “The English Language Unity Act”, was first proposed in 2003. The companion bill, last seen as S. 678 in the 114th congress, was first introduced to the Senate as S. 991 in 2009, and if history is any guide will be introduced again this session.

So if these bills have been around for a bit, why am I just talking about them now? Two reasons. First, I had a really good conversation about this with someone on Twitter the other day and I thought it would be useful to discuss  this in more depth. Second, I’ve been seeing some claims that President Trump made English the official language of the U.S. (he didn’t), so I thought it would be timely to discuss why I think that’s such a bad idea.

As both a linguist and a citizen, I do not think that English should be the official language of the United States.

In fact, I don’t think the US should have any official language. Why? Two main reasons:

  • Historically, language legislation at a national level has… not gone well for other countries.
  • Picking one official language ignores the historical and current linguistic diversity of the United States.

Let’s start with how passing legislation making one or more languages official has gone for other countries. I’m going to stick with just two, Canada and Belgium, but please feel free to discuss others in the comments.

Canada

Unlike the US, Canada does have an official language. In fact, thanks to a  1969 law, they have two: English and French. If you’ve ever been to Canada, you know that road signs are all in both English and French.

This law was passed in the wake of turmoil in Quebec sparked by a Montreal school board’s decision to teach all first grade classes in French, much to the displeasure of the English-speaking residents of St. Leonard. Quebec later passed Bill 101 in 1977, making French the only official language of the province. One commenter on this article by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation called this “the most divisive law in Canadian history”.

Language legislation and its enforcement in Canada has been particularity problematic for businesses. On one occasion, an Italian restaurant faced an investigation for using the word “pasta” on thier menu, instead of the French “pâtes”. Multiple retailers have faced prosecution at the hands of the Office Québécois de la langue Française for failing to have retail websites available in both English and French. A Montreal boutique narrowly avoided a large fine for making Facebook posts only in English. There’s even an official list of English words that Quebec Francophones aren’t supposed to use. While I certainly support bilingualism, personally I would be less than happy to see the same level of government involvement in language use in the US.

In addition, having only French and English as the official languages of Canada leave out a  very important group: aboriginal language users. There are over 60 different indigenous languages used in Canada used by over 213 thousand speakers. And even those don’t make up the majority of languages spoken in Canada: there are over 200 different languages used in Canada and 20% of the population speaks neither English nor French at home.

Belgium

Another country with a very storied past in terms of language legislation is Belgium. The linguistic situation in Belgium is very complex (there’s a more in-depth discussion here), but the general gist is that there are three languages used in different parts of the country. Dutch is used in the north, French is the south, and German in parts of the east. There is also a deep cultural divide between these regions, which language legislation has long served as a proxy for. There have been no fewer than eight separate national laws passed restricting when and where each language can be used. In 1970, four distinct language regions were codified in the Belgium constitution. You can use whatever language you want in private but there are restrictions on what language you can use for government business, in court, in education and employment.  While you might think that would put a rest to legislation on language, tensions have continued to be high. In 2013, for instance, the European Court of Justice overturned a Flemish law that contracts written in Flanders had to be in Dutch to be binding after a contractor working on an English contract was fired. Again, this represents a greater level of official involvement with language use than I’m personally comfortable with.

I want to be clear: I don’t think multi-lingualism is a problem. As a linguist, I value every language and I also recognize that bilingualism offers significant cognitive benefits. My problem is with legislating which languages should be used in a multi-lingual situation; it tends to lead to avoidable strife.

The US

Ok, you might be thinking, but in the US we really are just an English-speaking country! We wouldn’t have that same problem here. Weeeeelllllll….

The truth is, the US is very multilingual. We have a Language Diversity Index of .353, according to the UN. That means that, if you randomly picked two people from the United States population, the chance that they’d speak two different languages is over 35%. That’s far higher than a lot of other English-speaking countries. The UK clocks in at .139,  while New Zealand and Australia are at .102 and .126, respectively. (For the record, Canada is at .549 and Belgium .734.)

The number of different languages spoken in the US is also remarkable. In New York City alone there may be speakers of as many as 800 different languages, which would make it one of the most linguistically-diverse places in the world; like the Amazon rain-forest of languages. In King County, where I live now, there are over 170 different languages spoken, with the most common being Spanish, Chinese, Vietnamese and Amharic. And that linguistic diversity is reflected in the education system: there are almost 5 million students in the US Education system who are learning English, nearly 1 out of 10 students.

Multilingualism in the United States is nothing new, either: it’s been a part of the American experience since long before there was an America. Of course, there continue to be many speakers of indigenous languages in the United States, including Hawaiian (keep in mind that Hawaii did not actually want to become a state). But even within just European languages, English has never had sole dominion. Spanish has been spoken in Florida since the 1500’s. At the time of the signing of the Deceleration of Independence, an estimated 10% of the citizens of the newly-founded US spoke German (although the idea that it almost became the official language of the US is a myth). New York city? Used to be called New Amsterdam, and Dutch was spoken there into the 1900’s. Even the troops fighting the revolutionary war were doing so in at least five languages.

Making English the official language of the United States would ignore the rich linguistic history and the current linguistic diversity of this country. And, if other countries’ language legislation is any guide, would cause a lot of unnecessary fuss.

Social Speech Perception: Reviewing recent work

As some of you may already know, it’s getting to be crunch time for me on my PhD. So for the next little bit, my blog posts will probably mostly be on things that directly related to my dissertation. Consider this your behind-the-scenes pass to the research process.

With that in mind, today we’ll be looking at some work that’s closely related to my own.(And, not coincidentally, that I need to include in my lit review. Twofer.) They all share a common thread: social categories and speech perception. I’ve talked about this before, but these are more recent peer-reviewed papers on the topic.

Vowel perception by listeners from different English dialects

In this paper, Karpinska and coauthors investigated the role of a listener’s regional dialect on their use of two acoustic cues: formats and duration.

An acoustic cue is a specific part of the speech signal that you pay attention to to help you decide what sound you’re hearing. For example, when listening to a fricative, like “s” or “sh”,  you pay a lot of attention to the high-pitched, staticy-sounding  part of the sound to tell which fricative you’re hearing. This cue helps you tell the difference  between “sip” and “ship”, and if it gets removed or covered by another sound you’ll have a hard time telling those words apart.

They found that for listeners from the UK, New Zealand, Ireland and Singapore, formants were the most important cue distinguishing the vowels in “bit” and “beat”. For Australian listeners, however, duration (how long the vowel was) was a more important cue to the identity of these vowels. This study provides additional evidence that a listener’s dialect affects their speech perception, and in particular which cues they rely on.

Social categories are shared across bilinguals׳ lexicons

In this experiment Szakay and co-authors looked at English-Māori bilinguals from New Zealand. In New Zealand, there  are multiple dialects of English, including Māori English (the variety used by Native New Zealanders) and Pākehā English (the variety used by white New Zealanders). The authors found that there was a cross-language priming effect from Māori to English, but only for  Māori English.

Priming is a phenomena in linguistics where hearing or saying a particular linguistic unit, like a word, later makes it easier to understand or say a similar unit. So if I show you a picture of a dog, you’re going to be able to read the word “puppy” faster than you would have otherwise becuase you’re already thinking about canines.

They argue that this is due to the activation of language forms associated with a specific social identity–in this case Māori ethnicity. This provides evidence that listener’s beliefs about a speaker’s social identity affects their processing.

Intergroup Dynamics in Speech Perception: Interaction Among Experience, Attitudes and Expectations

Nguyen and co-authors investigate the effects of three separate factors on speech perception:

  • Experience: How much prior interaction a listener has had with a given speech variety.
  • Attitudes: How a listener feels about a speech variety and those who speak it.
  • Expectations: Whether a listener knows what speech variety they’re going to hear. (In this case only some listeners were explicitly told what speech variety they were going to hear.)

They found that these three factors all influenced the speech perception of Australian English speakers listening to Vietnamese accented English, and that there was an interaction between these factors. In general, participants with correct expectations (i.e. being told beforehand that they were going to hear Vietnamese accented English) identified more words correctly.

There was an interesting interaction between listener’s attitudes towards Asians and thier experience with Vietnamese accented English. Listeners who had negative prejudices towards Asians and little experience with Vietnamese English were more accurate than those with little experience and positive prejudice. The authors suggest that that was due to listeners with negative prejudice being more attentive. However, the opposite effect was found for listener’s with experience listening to Vietnamese English. In this group, positive prejudice increase accuracy while negative prejudice decreased it. There were, however, uneven numbers of participants between the groups so this might have skewed the results.

For me, this study is most useful becuase it shows that a listener’s experience with a speech variety and their expectation of hearing it affect their perception. I would, however, like to see a larger listener sample, especially given the strong negative skew in listner’s attitudes towards Asians (which I realize the researchers couldn’t have controlled for).

Perceiving the World through Group-Colored Glasses: A Perceptual Model of Intergroup Relations

Rather than presenting an experiment, this paper lays out a framework for the interplay of social group affiliation and perception. The authors pull together numerous lines of research showing that an individual’s own group affiliation can change thier perception and interpretation of the same stimuli. In the authors’ own words:

The central premise of our model is that social identification influences perception.

While they discuss perception across many domains (visual, tactile, orlfactory, etc.) the part which directly fits with my work is that of auditory perception. As they point out, auditory perception of speech depends on both bottom up and top down information. Bottom-up information, in speech perception, is the acoustic signal, while top-down information includes both knowledge of the language (like which words are more common) and social knowledge (like our knowledge of different dialects). While the authors do not discuss dialect perception directly, other work (including the three studies discussed above) fits nicely into this framework.

The key difference between this framework and Kleinschmidt & Jaeger’s Robust Speech Perception model is the centrality of the speaker’s identity. Since all language users have thier own dialect which affects their speech perception (although, of course, some listeners can fluently listen to more than one dialect) it is important to consider both the listener’s and talker’s social affiliation when modelling speech perception.

What does the National Endowment for the Humanities even do?

From the title, you might think this is a US-centric post. To a certain extent, it is. But I’m also going to be talking about topics that are more broadly of interest: what are some specific benefits of humanities research? And who should fund basic research? A lot has been written about these topics generally, so I’m going to be talking about linguistics and computational linguistics specifically.

This blog post came out of a really interesting conversation I had on Twitter the other day, sparked by this article on the potential complete elimination of both the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts. During the course of the conversation, I realized that the person I was talking to (who was not a researcher, as far as I know) had some misconceptions about the role and reach of the NEH. So I thought it might be useful to talk about the role the NEH plays in my field, and has played in my own development as a researcher.

Curriculo

Oh this? Well, we don’t have funding to buy books anymore, so I put a picture of them in my office to remind myself they exist.

What does the NEH do?

I think the easiest way to answer this is to give you specific examples of projects that have been funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities, and talk about thier individual impacts. Keep in mind that this is just the tip of the iceberg; I’m only going to talk about projects that have benefitted my work in particular, and not even all of those.

  • Builds language teaching resources. One of my earliest research experiences was as a research assistance for Jack Martin, working with the Koasati tribe in Louisiana on a project funded by the NEH. The bulk of the work I did that summer was on a talking dictionary of the Koasati language, which the community especially wanted both as a record of the language and to support Koasati language courses. I worked with speakers to record the words for the dictionary, edit and transcribe the sound files to be put into the talking dictionaries. In addition to creating an important resource of the community, I learned important research skills that led me towards my current work on language variation. And the dictionary? It’s available on-line.
  • Helps fight linguistic discrimination. One of my main research topics is linguistic bias in automatic speech recognition (you can see some of that work here and here). But linguistic bias doesn’t only happen with computers. It’s a particularly pernicious form of discrimination that’s a big problem in education as well. As someone who’s both from the South and an educator, for example, I have purposefully cultivated my ability to speak mainstream American English becuase I know that, fair or not, I’ll be taken less seriously the more southern I sound. The NEH is at the forefront of efforts to help fight linguistic discrimination.
  • Document linguistic variation. This is a big one for my work, in particular: I draw on NEH-funded resources documenting linguistic variation in the United States in almost every research paper I write.

How does funding get allocated?

  • Which projects are funded is not decided by politicians. I didn’t realize this wasn’t common knowledge, but which projects get funded by federal funding agencies, including the NEH, NSF (which I’m currently being funded through) and NEA (National Endowment for the Arts) are not decided by politicians. This is a good thing–even the most accomplished politician can’t be expected to be an expert on everything from linguistics to history to architecture. You can see the breakdown of the process of allocating funding here.
  • Who looks at funding applications? Applications are peer reviewed, just like journal articles and other scholarly publications. The people looking at applications are top scholars in thier field. This means that they have a really good idea of which projects are going to have the biggest long-term impact, and that they can insure no one’s going to be reinventing the wheel.
  • How many projects are funded? All federal  research funding is extremely competitive, with many more applications submitted than accepted. At the NEH, this means as few as 6% of applications to a specific grant program will be accepted. This isn’t just free money–you have to make a very compelling case to a panel of fellow scholars that your project is truly exceptional.
  • What criteria are used to evaluate projects? This varies from grant to grant, but for the documenting endangered languages grant (which is what my work with the Koasati tribe was funded through), the evaluation criteria includes the following:
    • What is the potential for the proposed activity to
      1. Advance knowledge and understanding within its own field or across different fields (Intellectual Merit); and
      2. Benefit society or advance desired societal outcomes (Broader Impacts)?
    • To what extent do the proposed activities suggest and explore creative, original, or potentially transformative concepts?
    • Is the plan for carrying out the proposed activities well-reasoned, well-organized, and based on a sound rationale? Does the plan incorporate a mechanism to assess success?
    • How well qualified is the individual, team, or organization to conduct the proposed activities?
    • Are there adequate resources available to the PI (either at the home organization or through collaborations) to carry out the proposed activities?

Couldn’t this research be funded by businesses?

Sure, it could be. Nothing’s stopping companies from funding basic research in the humanities… but in my experience it’s not a priority, and they don’t. And that’s a real pity, because basic humanities research has a tendency of suddenly being vitally needed in other fields. Some examples from Natural Language Processing that have come up in just the last year:

  • Ethics: I’m currently taking what will  probably be my last class in graduate school. It’s a seminar course, filled with a mix of NLP researchers, electrical engineers and computer scientists, and we’re all reading… ethics texts. There’s been a growing awareness in the NLP and machine learning communities that algorithmic design and data selection is leading to serious negative social impacts (see this paper for some details). Ethics is suddenly taking center stage, and without the work of scholars working in the humanities, we’d be working up from first principles.
  • Pragmatics: Pragmatics, or the study of how situational factors affect meaning, is one of the more esoteric sub-disciplines in linguistics–many linguistics departments don’t even teach it as a core course. But one of the keynotes at the 2016 Empirical Methods in Natural Language Processing conference was about it (in NLP, conferences are the premier publication venue, so that’s a pretty big deal). Why? Because dialog systems, also known as chatbots, are a major research area right now. And modelling things like what you believe the person you’re talking to already knows is going to be critical to making interacting with them more natural.
  • Discourse analysis: Speaking of chatbots, discourse analysis–or the analysis of the structure of conversations–is another area of humanities research that’s been applied to a lot of computational systems. There are currently over 6000 ACL publications that draw on the discourse analysis literature. And given the strong interest in chatbots right now, I can only see that number going up.

These are all areas of research we’d traditionally consider humanities that have directly benefited the NLP community, and in turn many of the products and services we use day to day. But it’s hard to imagine companies supporting the work of someone working in the humanities whose work might one day benefit their products. These research programs that may not have an immediate impact but end up being incredibly important down-the-line is exactly the type of long-term investment in knowledge that the NEH supports, and that really wouldn’t happen otherwise.

Why does it matter?

“Now Rachael,” you may be saying, “your work definitely counts as STEM (science, technology, engineering and math). Why do you care so much about some humanities funding going away?”

I hope the reasons that I’ve outlined above help to make the point that humanities research has long-ranging impacts and is a good investment. NEH funding was pivotal in my development as a researcher. I would not be where I am today without early research experience on projects funded by the NEH.  And as a scholar working in multiple disciplines, I see how humanities research constantly enriches work in other fields, like engineering, which tend to be considered more desirable.

One final point: the National Endowment for the Humanities is, compared to other federal funding programs, very small indeed. In 2015 the federal government spent 146 million on the NEH, which was only 2% of the 7.1  billion dollar Department of Defense research budget. In other words, if everyone in the US contributed equally to the federal budget, the NEH would cost us each less than fifty cents a year. I think that’s a fair price for all of the different on-going projects the NEH funds, don’t you?

agencies3b

The entire National Endowment for the Humanities & National Endowment for the Arts, as well as the National Park Service research budget, all fit in that tiny “other” slice at the very top.