[evolveme]

I was born in the South (in a place nestled up close to the mouth of the mighty Mississippi), lived all but a handful of my years in the South (almost entirely the Deep South) and, yes ma’am, I’m proud of it.

Daniel de Preux : “It is easier to run North and join the crowd. But to stay and fight, that's the Southern woman.”

And I do. See, I could move to say, Berkley, California, where nearly everyone I meet will share my political philosophy but what is the fun in that, I want to know? There’s so much more work to be done here, and as I have said, the story, like the soil, is richer. Further, I could move to parts of the Pacific Northwest where I could go days without seeing a minority, but here, where I live, more than 30% of the population is Black, and a great many of us are poor to lower middle and working class. That is partly why the story is richer – the characters are so interesting, y’all.

We’re all rubbing up against each other here, fighting for a piece of the pie (make mine pecan). This kind of struggle – going on now a long time – certainly works to keep racism (as with other isms) good and alive, but the South is not unique in hosting racism. Folks who won’t let go of a notion of “The Confederacy” don’t help things, and sociologically speaking, there are a good many more of these folks who are poor and white than there are wealthy and white. This is because racism thrives among two groups when they are fighting for resources, and historically, Black people as a group have not met with the opportunity (read: it has systemically been denied them) to achieve the resources at the same level/to the same degree as white folks.

Now before you gear up your jingoism and start posting about that one Black guy who loves his rebel flag and contributes to Civil War reenactments, or that (tiny) legion of “aristocratic” whites who believe the Confederate flag should live proudly outside Southern statehouses, I’ll remind you that those are piteous anomalies and merely anecdotal, and that the subject of this thread revolves around why the South is so damn cool, which those stories ain’t got snot to do with, but thanks.

We’re a hard scrabble people while mostly maintaining a decorum not unlike chivalry. Southern Hospitality is legion, and everyone, everywhere knows about it. If they haven’t experienced it, well, they should have. Sugar, you sit right down and we’ll fix you right up with a glass of something good and cold to drink and how ‘bout some warm biscuits and butter and we’ll just tell you all about it? And everything and everyone else? We tell the best stories, see.

You won’t be bored. Nor hungry. Nor thirsty.

Our food literally makes the concept of “comfort.” (Descendent of slave food, it needed to do just that.) Except if it’s Cajun, then you don’t want to get too comfortable or you might be sittin’ too low and not be able to reach your glass of beer right at that moment when you really need to wash down some cayenne. But awww, it’s good, yeah!

Southerners move a little easier, talk a little slower than everybody else. I’m in love with their faces and hands, with their easy gestures and give-away-smiles. On the whole, they’re less suspicious, but give ‘em a reason not to trust you, and brother, back it up. Which lends itself to: If you ever need good back up, find a Southerner. It’s likely their indignation at the very idea of dishonor will have them bowin’ up big as a king cobra. Now, don’t be frightened; see, Southerners might even make the best lovers, too. What with all that in-born sensuality. (Something about the temperate climate and high humidity keeps things a-cookin’. )

I really could go on, but I’ll give somebody else a turn.