You can try to deny it. You can go vegan and stop wearing your boots. You can even get rid of that accent. But you will always be southern born and southern bred at heart. You better watch out, because if you deny it for too long, it will slowly start to sneak up on you. You will hear that twang come out when you’re talking on the phone to your mama. You will find yourself complaining about the “terrible, awful heat” in May, when it is just starting to get hot around here. You might even start craving things like fried okra, cornbread, peach cobbler, and a big ol’ glass of sweet tea. Like I said, you can try to deny it, but you can’t ignore it for long.
I am Georgia born and Georgia bred. For a short while, I tried to deny my roots. I started smoking french cigarettes and told people as soon as I got the money I was gonna move to New Mexico, wear a lot of turquoise jewelry, and pretend I was from the west coast. Needless to say, that never worked out. Then I started to realize that being southern was a pretty wonderful thing. I found myself feeling sorry for all those people that weren’t raised in the south. I thought how miserable those “Yankee’s” and “Northerners” must be with their frigid winters and bad manners. Growing up, we spoke of “the Northerners” in hushed, whispered tones, as if it wasn’t polite conversation. Because really, it just wasn’t. I started to realize that if I wasn’t a southerner, I might not truly appreciate the first cool breeze that welcomes in fall, or the sound of a “bob white” cooing in the woods, or the incredible taste of a fresh watermelon and tomatoes from the garden in the summer. I probably wouldn’t appreciate the snow that we might or might not get in the winter. The comfort that you can get from a meal of lima beans and cornbread. Or the greeting of “hey ya’ll” that we all use down here, not just Paula Dean.
We southerners are steeped in tradition, and we are proud of our roots. Our roots run deep just like the veins in our skin. We cling to our beliefs, and our stories, and our uniqueness, that some would deem “crazy’. And just like any rich culture, we are proud of who we are. We aren’t those “stupid rednecks” that live down south. We aren’t illiterate, we don’t eat possums, and the majority of us aren’t racist. We are an educated people that speaks slow so you can hear the beauty of our language. We will hug your neck, and welcome you into our home, even if we just met. We will make sure you’re warm and well fed if you visit us. We will ask you what you’re drinking, and then make sure your ice never gets dry. We will entertain you with endless stories about our spirited families. Most importantly, we will embrace you with open arms.
So put your prejudice away. If you’re southern, and you’re tying to deny it, let it on out. Let it out, and love it, just like your nutty Aunt Caroline. And remember, whether you’re southern or not, accept who you are, embrace who you are, be who you are. Because being who you truly are, is the most beautiful thing you can do.
I am Georgia born and Georgia bred. For a short while, I tried to deny my roots. I started smoking french cigarettes and told people as soon as I got the money I was gonna move to New Mexico, wear a lot of turquoise jewelry, and pretend I was from the west coast. Needless to say, that never worked out. Then I started to realize that being southern was a pretty wonderful thing. I found myself feeling sorry for all those people that weren’t raised in the south. I thought how miserable those “Yankee’s” and “Northerners” must be with their frigid winters and bad manners. Growing up, we spoke of “the Northerners” in hushed, whispered tones, as if it wasn’t polite conversation. Because really, it just wasn’t. I started to realize that if I wasn’t a southerner, I might not truly appreciate the first cool breeze that welcomes in fall, or the sound of a “bob white” cooing in the woods, or the incredible taste of a fresh watermelon and tomatoes from the garden in the summer. I probably wouldn’t appreciate the snow that we might or might not get in the winter. The comfort that you can get from a meal of lima beans and cornbread. Or the greeting of “hey ya’ll” that we all use down here, not just Paula Dean.
We southerners are steeped in tradition, and we are proud of our roots. Our roots run deep just like the veins in our skin. We cling to our beliefs, and our stories, and our uniqueness, that some would deem “crazy’. And just like any rich culture, we are proud of who we are. We aren’t those “stupid rednecks” that live down south. We aren’t illiterate, we don’t eat possums, and the majority of us aren’t racist. We are an educated people that speaks slow so you can hear the beauty of our language. We will hug your neck, and welcome you into our home, even if we just met. We will make sure you’re warm and well fed if you visit us. We will ask you what you’re drinking, and then make sure your ice never gets dry. We will entertain you with endless stories about our spirited families. Most importantly, we will embrace you with open arms.
So put your prejudice away. If you’re southern, and you’re tying to deny it, let it on out. Let it out, and love it, just like your nutty Aunt Caroline. And remember, whether you’re southern or not, accept who you are, embrace who you are, be who you are. Because being who you truly are, is the most beautiful thing you can do.
(*The author has no ill will towards any of the above mentioned “northerners” or “yankees.” The author was not exposed to any “northerners” or “yankees” until later in life. When she was, she realized that though they may be a little rough around the edges, they were great friends.)
Over Yonder 