• This Conversation

    (Photo Cred: Richmond's Style Weekly and this amazing article from two years ago by Ned Oliver) 

    There’s a patron of the library who regularly comes in wearing Confederate flags on his clothes and proudly sports two of the most interesting tattoos I’ve ever seen— a full, grayscale portrait of Robert E. Lee on the expanse of his left forearm and Jefferson Davis on his right. These tattoos are about 20 years old and are incredibly well done. I like looking at them and always compliment him on the work. I like talking to people about their heroes and why— even if I disagree with the people whom they choose to laud. You have to figure that a man who goes through getting two tattoos of these Confederate icons must have some good reason.

    This man came in on the Saturday after the shooting in Charleston and commented on the beginning rumblings of the call to take down the Battle Flag on the campus of the South Carolina Capitol. He was clearly upset about it and wanted my empathy. I denied him. I told him that I lived in Columbia when I was in college and figured that there was enough monuments and memorabilia there to make up for taking one flag down. (the testicles on Wade Hampton’s horse alone should suffice).

    He was polite in his disagreement which, of course, led to “if this, then what?” I told him that there are laws on the books (Federal and State) that protect monuments to Confederate soldiers and consider them to be under the same protection as actual U.S. monuments. I told him that he was being a little “Henny Penny” about this and to really start worrying when those laws are challenged. But in my mind, I kept thinking of a phrase that Jon Stewart used on the Daily show after the shooting: racist wallpaper. The South is filled with racist wallpaper. Wallpaper being something that you may notice, but generally ignore or let affect you subconsciously.

    I’ve talked to men and women who are (for whatever reason) totally oblivious to the fact that the Battle Flag is a racist symbol. When I interviewed a Virginia Flagger, he totally steamrolled my idea that the KKK used the flag as a symbol of hate and intimidation by saying that the NAACP made up that myth in the 1990s. Never mind that you don’t have to look very far into the pre-1990s archives to find examples of the KKK’s use of the flag. AND that it only takes a hop, skip, and a stumble to follow links from the Virginia Flaggers’ website to the KKK’s and other white supremacy groups’ websites.

    Thanks to LitHub for directing me toward this story, which has an interesting and clearly Southern take on what we could do with the flag. The story has an incredible sense of humor about it— while remaining politically serious. I’m disappointed that there hasn’t been more of a push to include Southern voices in this conversation. I just watched the Daily and Nightly shows and neither had any Southerners talk about what’s going on… as if they can’t trust a Southerner to have anything considered or enlightened to say about the whole issue. Or that we would all come from the same place or ill-informed opinion.

    I’m also a little disappointed that THIS is the conversation we’re having: taking down the flag. We’ve been talking about systemic racism in this country for the last two years (because of the murders of black people in every single region of the country) but when it happens in the South— all the sudden people are shaking their heads about how “it’s always been like that” here. I hate to tell you, but it’s always been like that EVERYWHERE.

    And that does not make it better. Pointing that out is not to take the heat off of the South, it’s to shine light on the fact that we should be looking at the long history of AMERICAN systemic racism (in our laws, hearts, minds, and actions). It doesn’t begin or end with African Americans, either. And I can’t even get started on other kinds of prejudice.

    I struggle with this conversation. I struggle with knowing how dialogue changes or progresses an idea. I want to think that everyone is able to listen to and understand what their interlocutor is saying and then reply accordingly, but I don’t really see that happening very often. I wonder how this is going to affect literature and art in the future. Will our art become as divided as our politics? How can we learn to talk to each other again (have we ever known?).

    This is a product of having a liberal arts education: I assume everyone wants to debate and learn from each other. That’s how we grow as people and a nation (and in our own humanity). But apparently that isn’t really the goal for most people. I keep thinking of the phrase “shouting into the void.” I feel like the Internet and the media at large has us doing that most of the time. Opinion has been democratized… but if the conversation isn’t really a con-vers-ation, then aren’t we all just shouting into the void?

    In terms of my own writing— what is my role as a woman, a Southerner, a thinker, a writer, a human, etc? I’m considering the kinds of stories that I write and what (if anything) makes them interesting to read. What kind of purposes do my stories (fiction or non) serve and why tell them? Must literature have broader themes? (don’t we “read” our own political, emotional, etc readings with or without the leadership or permission of the author?). As a Southern writer, what kind of message about the South do I want to tell? What archetypes and stereotypes am I working for or against? Must I be conscious of this while composing?

    I hope that the discussion of racist wallpaper in the South and in the United States in general keeps its steam. I hope that people start making the connections between our (white privilege) subconscious and race relations. I hope that some Southern voices are called on to rise up and start to help us progress. And, above all, I hope the South decides on some new damn symbols to represent our rich culture and history.

    So I leave you with this... from the voice of a Southerner. 

  • Heroes, Forgiveness, Forgetfulness, and Southern Identity.

    Pat and I pitched a story to The Bitter Southerner about confronting history in the South. The crux of what I want to write is that some of us use history as a tool for progression and others use it as a tool of regression. Whether its through obvious negative reinforcement (Confederate flags) or more subtle tactics like naming buildings, roads, or businesses after Civil War soldiers, using history in the regressive context continues today. I've read Tracy Thompson's New Mind of the South, The Promise of the New South by Edward Ayers, as well as a few older sources (The Mind of the South, duh) in order to gather resources concerning how others have written about this. The weirdest experience I've had so far is going down a worm hole that eventually led me (though I didn't know it at the time) to the KKK's website, which looks terrible, by the way. No, don't search for the KKK's website. Don't give them the traffic! I did it on accident! I also found a real life Secessionist website, which is pretty insane.

    In just the time I've been nose-to-the-grindstone researching, I've learned a lot about the South and what kind of role I want to play here in the progress of this region. I've run into a lot of disappointment on the way, as well. I interviewed one man who told "If you want to get rid of Lee-Jackson Day, you should get rid of MLK Day, too." As a 28-year-old Southern lady living in the Post-Obama world, I just can't help but be shocked (though not surprised) when I hear that kind of thing. An important idea, though I don't know if I'll be able to cover it, is of Heroes. In the South, we rely on heroes to lead the way. Lee and Jackson are still remembered because they were brilliant soldiers, pious servants, and gentlemen. Though, ethically and morally, they are anti-heroes. Martin Luther King, Jr. is a real hero. Etc. Heroes are easy to remember. At the same time, I think revering people like Lee and Jackson also puts us in a morally grey area. Revering them stops us from forgiving ourselves for our ancestors' sins. That's what keeps the wound open. During conversation Chuck Reece, the editor at B.S., reminded me to try and keep politics out of this, though it may seem pertinent. I'm sure the comments alone will bring in that kind of discussion. 

    I'm hoping this article will open some doors for me. I've been looking for non-profit jobs all around the South that deal with poverty, racism, social justice, etc. I've been a little scared to apply since I know it will- most likely- uproot my life here in Staunton completely. But I can't take the risk of not being a better force for positive change in the South any more. I have to put my time and energy where my mouth and soul are. I've also been thinking (again) of applying to the Southern Studies M.A. at Ole Miss. Man, would that be a great way to make connections and really dive into this subject area. The way Chuck Reece throws out the names of his friends- important Southern voices, scholars, personalities, makes my head spin. 

    That's what I want... in the end. We'll just have to see, I guess.