Two little words: Sisu and Sauna

Two little words, sisu and sauna, are perhaps the most meaning linguistic features signaling ‘Finnish American’. These words are what are called shibboleths—words that signal insider and outsider by way of pronunciation. For example, most people in the US who live outside of the UP and who are not Finnish American, pronounce saunaas [sanə] (san-nuh) rather than [saʊnə] (sow-nuh). Some folks don’t know what a sauna is or that sauna is an important cultural practice among family and friends and that there are rules and rituals when taking sauna. In addition, most people don’t know what sisu is, ‘persistence in the face of adversity,’ and how this little word is a significant marker of Finnish American identity. It can be seen as linguistic practices of this identity on bumper stickers, t-shirts, ball caps, baby bibs, and other objects in the linguistic landscape. So, as shibboleths, sisu and saunarepresent place—the UP, ethnic identity—Finnish American, and ways of knowing—specifically, how to “correctly pronounce sauna.” The significance of sisu and sauna in defining identity is reflected in the shared understanding of sisu and the pronunciation, as well as the cultural practice, of taking a sauna. Through these words emerges the idea that Finnish American identity is located in the language of a specific place—Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.


"Yooper" Gains (More) National Recognition

Surely, this week’s hottest news for Yoopers, Yooper-wannabes, dialectologists, and lexicographers alike, is the news that Merriam-Webster will include Yooper in its collegiate edition later this year. Little do folks know, however, that the word has existed in the American Heritage Dictionary since 1999 and was included in the Dictionary of American Regional English‘s Volume 5. Ben Zimmer writes about the debut of Yooper in Wall Street Journal‘s “Word on the Street” column and Ann Curzan discusses its emergence on Michigan Radio’s “Stateside.” For me, a linguist who has studied the connections between language, place, and identity in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula (UP), to see a regional term–one that I hold near and dear, and that I use as a prefix to “-wannabe”–become (more) nationally recognized is really cool stuff. It’s such a fine example of how social factors from language attitudes, to dialect contact, tourism, and media affect our language use and awareness. I write about this in more detail in “Everyone Up Here: Identity and Enregisterment in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula” and with Joe Salmons and Luanne VonSchneidemesser in “Revised Perceptions: Changing Dialect Perceptions in Wisconsin and Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.”

This history of Yooper is not very old. It emerges through a variety of factors, including increased tourism to the UP. The following list of archival evidence from the Marquette County Historical Museum demonstrates Yooper’s recent birth:

· 1972 “Uppenites”: Artist Eugene Sinervo, Sand River, self publishes U.S. map distorting the size of the U.P and Great Lakes.
· 1978 “Yoop”: First known printing of the word “Yoop” by Detroit News journalist Jim Treloar, an Ishpeming and Marquette native.
· 1979 Escanaba Daily Press holds contest to name the people of the Upper Michigan. “Yooper” is declared the winner.
· 1982 Sociologist Michael Loukinen attempts to make a documentary about the cultural phenomenon of “Yoopers” but receives widespread criticism from older members of the community and instead releases “Good Man in the Woods.”      
· 1983 “Say Ya To Da U.P. eh?” Bumper sticker printed by Jack Bowers of Marquette in response to the “Say Yes to Michigan” tourism campaign.
· 1986 Da Yoopers band is formed bringing wider exposure to the term.  (Originally called the Yoopers).

To this list of regional evidence of the emergence and recognition of Yooper as a “real word,” we can add the popular TV game show, Jeopardy‘s use of Yooper in 2003, 2005, and 2014 (according to This, and the dictionaries’ entries might appear to make Yooper a “real word.” But, despite this authoritative nod to the authenticity of Yooper, we must remember, as Ann Curzan says that “if we’re all using a word and know what it means, then it’s an actual word.”


Since the pasty wars broke headline news in the UK last month, pasties have been on my mind, particularly their pronunciation. If you listen to these clips from The Spectator, you’ll hear pasty pronounced in the UK, specifically Cornwall, similar to what you’ll hear in the Upper Peninsula (UP) and as the image of the magnet above instructs: [pæsti].  The magnet is a good example of the commodification of a dialect feature, a bit of language that can be bought and sold. But, it’s not just any bit of language–it must be a recognizable feature, one that carries meaning. And pasty does just that: it signals local identity and local knowledge. If an individual knows what a pasty is, then most likely they know how to pronounce it, both reflecting local identity. In this way pasty is a shibboleth, much like sauna, which I wrote about in a previous post. As a shibboleth, pasty signals ‘local identity’ when speakers pronounce it “pass-tee” and signals ‘outsider’ when mispronounced. However, unlike sauna, which is a common word for most Americans and has two variant pronunciations, pasty is not a common word for many people and therefore the pronunciation is often based on analogies with more familiar and similarly spelled words: pastry and pastie.

If you’re not familiar with pasties, they are hand-held savory pies brought to the UP by Cornish miners who immigrated to the northwestern UP in the 1800s. The popularity of the pasty remains, so much so that it is known as a regional dish in Cornwall as well as in the UP. In the UP pasties are typically filled with beef or a beef and pork mixture, potatoes, onions, carrots, and rutabagas. My favorite pasties in the UP can be found at Toni’s Country Kitchen in Laurium. And downstate in Grand Rapids every Tuesday is pasty day at Marie Catrib’s, where you will find meat, veggie, and vegan pasties.

Sisu and Sauna: In honor of St Urho’s Day

Today, St Urho’s Day, I have sisu and sauna (pronounced [saʊnə], sow-nuh) on my mind. Sisu is particularly significant: a Finnish borrowing that has no one-word translation in English. Terttu Leney (2003) defines sisu as “fortitudinous staying power and tenacity in the face of adversity, against insurmountable odds”, in other words, ‘having guts’. I named my cat Sisu. She was a stray who persisted through three weeks of cold, snow, and rain to convince me that she should live inside the house, not out in the field. Her sisu-ness won me over and got her inside, where she fattened up and now lives happily with two Labrador Retrievers and two humans. In the UP and other parts of the Upper Midwest where Finns settled, you can see bumper stickers, t-shirts, and license plates proclaiming “sisu.” Sauna is also a significant dialect feature in that it functions as a shibboleth, or password of sorts. Many residents of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula pronounce it as [saʊnə], whereas outsiders typically pronounce it as [sanə], (sah-nuh), thus marking them as outsiders. St Urho, today’s (March 16) fictional patron saint who drove the grasshoppers out of Finland to save the grape crop, as well as Heikki Lunta,  the snow god of the UP, are also important UP symbols, both folk characters that represent local cultural practices and values. So, today in honor of St Urho wear purple and green and have some sisu to carry you into spring.

Leney, Tertu. (2003). Teach yourself Finnish. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Virtanen, Hilary. (2006). Heikki Lunta.