Here Comes (My Musing On) Honey Boo Boo!

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo airs on TLC and is in its second season.

For the ridiculous sum I pay for cable, I watch approximately 5 channels: Food Network, Cooking Channel, Investigation Discovery, the Oprah Winfrey Network, and any random channel that might have a show that lets me get my crime TV/forensic fix. When these channels simultaneously broadcast shows that I have seen or that I don’t like, my life is thrown into an uproar. I typically throw down the remote and pick up a book. Occasionally, I go channel-surfing. During one such surfing-in-desperation episode, I stumbled upon the premiere of “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.” I saw people on Facebook writing about it and got the gist of the background of the Shannon/Thompson family (if you’re not familiar, the show is about the now-seven-year-old Alana Thompson, who competes in children’s beauty pageants and her family, including her mom and dad, three older sisters, and new born niece). I expected to be critical of the beauty pageant element, in particular, and what I thought would be the drudgery of it (I don’t like reality TV), in general. I do have a lot to say about the children’s pageant element, but I found that, overall, I liked the family. One of the main reasons is that, as rural southerners, they are familiar to me. I found the mother, June Shannon, funny, confident, and patient with her girls. I watched more than one episode, a true sign of my interest.

But… within a few episodes, I realized, to the producers of this show, my feelings about June and her family must seem an anomaly. In my opinion, whoever is staging this show goes out of hir way to make this family a subject of mockery, ridicule, and disgust. From the opening montage, the audience gets a clue of what to expect—the family is first gathered, all smiling, as if they are posing for a portrait. And then, someone passes gas and they dissolve into arguing amongst themselves. Why, you may wonder, are they repeatedly cast in such an unflattering light? I believe we are meant to be repulsed by them because of a number of social characteristics of the family members: they are southern, working class, and some of them are fat.
I cannot list all the tropes trotted out to play on stereotypes of people who fall in the aforementioned category, but let me try. We see June, the heaviest member of the family, eating. No shame in that right? But we see her eating in ways that we can look down upon. We see her eating with her hands. We see the show edited (for example, the Thanksgiving show) to make it seem that she eats non-stop. We see her eating large portions (as on her date with her partner, Sugar Bear). And we are encouraged to make judgments on how she cooks for and feeds her children, some of whom (including Alana) are heavy. She sprinkles sugar on their already sweetened cranberry sauce and says it’s how they get their servings of fruit. She makes a dish called “sketti” that includes spaghetti, ketchup, and butter. She tells us about feeding them venison culled from deer killed in car accidents. As if that does not drive the point home enough, Alana laments the fact that they haven’t had venison in a while, noting that, “It’s been a while since I had road kill in my belly.” Largely ignored is June’s comment that she is trying to feed a family of six on $80 a week, leaving little room for gourmet fare, and that she cooks almost everyday to control food costs.

And, oh, these uncouth southerners! The children curse. The parents curse. They argue and laugh loudly. The camera makes sure to document each time they pass gas or burp or pick their noses. They play in mud on several episodes (I mean, you know how we southerners love our dirt—food, toy, flooring—it’s multi-purpose!). They go to “Redneck Games.” The editing of one episode emphasizes that gnats fly around them. When Alana meets the current Ms. Georgia, Ms. Georgia notes that she is unsure of how far the little girl will go in the pageant world because of her lack of refinement. And attempts to teach Alana “proper” etiquette seem exasperating for the child and the instructor, as if the little girl is hopeless!

The presented image of Sugar Bear, too, is often unflattering. He is always shown with a pinch of chewing tobacco in his mouth, leading to comments about his breath. He speaks softly and seems shy and, quite often, scenes are edited to emphasize that June is the “boss” and the girls pay him little attention. This further contributes to the appearance of the family as disordered, given our culture’s creation and castigation of “matriarch” figure and common lamentations about men losing their status in various ways. But I don’t see Sugar Bear as weak because he is quiet. In fact, in Sugar Bear, I see my own dad and my favorite uncle. My dad was a quiet man who loved pickup trucks and hunting and fishing and dealt with my sister and me gently. My uncle is much the same way and, like Sugar Bear and many southern men, he’s usually chewing a pinch of tobacco and clamoring for a “spit cup.” I do not find him disgusting. I have never been repulsed by his breath or his tobacco habit. A quiet disposition does not indicate a lack of engagement or importance in a family circle. Sugar Bear’s love for June and those girls is obvious. He works hard for his family. And when June’s oldest daughter, his step-daughter, has a baby, his sweet words about how she reminded him of Alana and seeing him cuddling the newborn reinforced the comparison I made between him and my dad.

The Shannon/Thompson family has a strong sense of themselves as working class southerners and are even untroubled by the term “redneck”—and why should they be, given “redneck’s” origin as a term to describe hard-working farmers whose necks were burned red by exposure to the sun? But given all the negative connotations that label has, it seems outside the realm of possibility to the producers of the show that one can be comfortable and even proud of a rural southern identity. In comments of posts or articles that talk about the show, you will commonly see them called “white trash,” as well. Now, I have to say, first, that while I understand the sentiments of poor white people and scholars who have tried to “reclaim” the term “white trash,” it is a very problematic term, particularly in its implication that “white trash” is such an anomaly that we must include a racial marker. Most white people are not perceived to be trash, thus the label; but what does this say we think about people of color? The racialized terms by which we are referred have been constructed in ways that imply an innate subordination, impoverishment, “less-ness” in a way that the term “white” has not been constructed. In fact, so anomalous is “white trash,” that scholar Matt Wray explored the idea that people given this label are often perceived as “not quite white.”

For the purposes of this essay, I want to focus on another adverse meaning of the labeling of the Shannon/Thompson family as “white trash”: in the words of Matt Wray and Annalee Newitz, “white trash” is often the “white Other,” “the difference,” indeed, the “threat” within the bounds of the privileged status of whiteness. There is no clearer evidence in “Honey Boo Boo” that the South and, in this case, white southerners are being othered, portrayed as foreign, unknown, and unknowable, than the fact that the family’s speech is captioned, as if our English is any more accented than that of people from other regions of the United States! But those other accents are normative, unnoticeable, default, and, in the end, not an accent at all, but the way “real” USians talk!

I think the whole family is portrayed in a way to make each member an object of ridicule, but I believe our greatest disgust is supposed to be reserved for June. June seems, to me, to have a great attitude. She finds the humor in many situations and she is affectionate with her girls. She is confident about her relationship with Sugar Bear and her attractiveness to him. She is a bit adventurous and she likes to have fun. June is also money savvy; she endeavors to be an “extreme couponer”: “You save money for your family — that’s what it’s all about,” she said [on Jimmy Kimmel Live]. “I could be a multi-millionare and still want to get the best deal for my family.” Additionally, “she’s putting the show’s earnings into trust funds for her children,” noting that, “I want my kids to look back and say, ‘Mama played it smart.’”

Funny, confident, beautiful, smart… apparently, those are all things forbidden to fat southern women. When June decides to have fun on a water slide, the camera focuses on the fact that she struggles to climb it (even then, she laughs amiably at herself and is clearly having a good time, but the joke is supposed to be on her—HaHa! She’s too fat for this!). She notes that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that she and Sugar Bear both appreciate her beauty (a fact that he confirms). Yet, she is shown as the opposite of all those things that are constructed as beautiful in our society, from her disdain for makeup to her refusal to obsess over her weight. And, true to common characterization of southerners, there are plenty of “duh” moments when we are given the impression that the family members are not intelligent. I cannot, in one post, catalogue all the ways this woman is mocked and cast as the butt of some joke that everyone else is in on.

But, what really endears June, and indeed, all her family, to me, is the fact that, in the face of a country that derides most things about them, they STAY proud and true to who they are, something that I understand as (and I deeply, deeply hope is) a refusal to accept the mandate that they apologize for being themselves, for being working-class and southern. When I see June, I am reminded of Liss’s post about having the audacity to be fat and happy and I can’t help smiling myself. For me, the othering of the South and southerners, the positioning of us as inferior to northerners, the constant stream of jokes about our stupidity and “in-breeding,” our “strange” food (and even deadly, until soul food and southern food are properly gentrified by northern chefs—but that’s another post!) and weird customs, means that I proclaim my southern-ness often and loudly, from the language I use on social media to referring to myself as a southern (b)elle to making a conscious effort to use my “real” voice in my classes and other settings so that my accent, which I find lovely and luscious, shines through. And while part of that has come from the process of being comfortable in my own skin, part of it is DEFINITELY a “Ha! I am progressive, smart, funny AND southern”-thumbing-of-my-nose at those who would believe such a person cannot exist. I read June’s actions and attitude in the same light.

I have a delightful feeling that I am right.

On Law & Order

The emphasis on and call for "law and order" has often been synonymous with the suppression of social justice struggles in our society. Martin Luther King, Jr., realized that and spoke eloquently of it. Today, as some of us commemorate his birthday, I just want to quote relevant passages from his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" and the "Statement from Alabama Clergymen" that prompted the letter.

The Alabama clergymen had already written a statement called "An Appeal for Law and Order and Common Sense." They imagined themselves moderates, negotiating between southern segregationists and civil rights workers, each equally "extremist." See, there's a problem with proclaiming oneself a "racial moderate" or "neutral." Because the perspectives of dominant groups are normalized and regarded as the default, those perspectives are often viewed as “neutral.” In the case of social justice struggles in the United States, the so called “moderate” perspective, in reality, centers the feelings, thoughts, and ideologies of non-marginalized people. King wrote, for example, that white moderates took the same paternalistic view of African Americans as white southerners who were more overtly racist. As a result, he had been

...gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate.

King also pointed out how the moderates’ claim that the Birmingham protests were "unwise and untimely" revealed their privileged status as “white” in the racial hierarchy and their inability to fully understand African Americans’ perspective:

Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was "well timed" in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied."

We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, "Wait."

Unaffected by the "disease of segregation," clergymen composed a statement that insisted on the importance of obeying the law. They implied that the legal system and the institution of law were logical and just and that justice would be the result if people use them. The clergymen acknowledged no distinction, King claimed, between just and unjust laws. Segregation laws were unjust, examples of "dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress.”

So, why did the Alabama clergymen, who imagined themselves moderate and even sympathetic to African Americans insist on "law and order" and define civil rights demonstrations as representative of disorder that "incite[d] hatred and violence?" Why did they suggest that African Americans pursue their cause via the courts--a suggestion not rooted in any historical or social context, as African Americans had received little redress in southern courts--instead of "in the streets?"

Obviously, the people who will or do benefit from the system in place have a vested interest in maintaining and/or prolonging the status quo through the use of "law and order." Order was more important to them than any semblance of justice, despite their claims:

[The moderate] ...constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; ...paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; ...lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

And, in the case of the "moderate" Alabama clergymen, King theorized they had a problematic definition of peace, that prioritized "a negative peace which is the absence of tension" over "a positive peace which is the presence of justice."

King called for moderates to shift their perspectives and to realize that the "calm" appearance of order often obscured the violence necessary to maintain it:

Before closing I feel impelled to mention one other point in your statement that has troubled me profoundly. You warmly commended the Birmingham police force for keeping "order" and "preventing violence." I doubt that you would have so warmly commended the police force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth into unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so quickly commend the policemen if you were to observe their ugly and inhumane treatment of Negroes here in the city jail; if you were to watch them push and curse old Negro women and young Negro girls; if you were to see them slap and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give us food because we wanted to sing our grace together. I cannot join you in your praise of the Birmingham police department.

It is true that the police have exercised a degree of discipline in handling the demonstrators. In this sense they have conducted themselves rather "nonviolently" in public. But for what purpose? To preserve the evil system of segregation.

I wish you had commended the Negro sit inners and demonstrators of Birmingham for their sublime courage, their willingness to suffer and their amazing discipline in the midst of great provocation. One day the South will recognize its real heroes. They will be the James Merediths, with the noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that characterizes the life of the pioneer. They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro women, symbolized in a seventy two year old woman in Montgomery, Alabama, who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to ride segregated buses, and who responded with ungrammatical profundity to one who inquired about her weariness: "My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest." They will be the young high school and college students, the young ministers of the gospel and a host of their elders, courageously and nonviolently sitting in at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for conscience' sake.

Do me a favor? Keep thinking of justice and positive peace, not "order," as the foundation upon which we should build.

Happy MLK Day!

On Collective (and Selective) Memory

You know, I am not at all surprised by the fact that Virginia's Governor Robert McDonnell proclaimed April Confederate History Month. My (Louisiana) parish has done it before and I'm sure it's not an anomaly in the South.

But what gets me, what always gets me, when I see people loving on the Confederacy and declaring that their flags and memorials are all about heritage, is the selective, largely one-sided memory they have. The "Old South" may have been all moonlight and magnolias in their recollections, but there were four million or so people who, I'll bet, remembered it quite differently.

Encouraging people to remember the Confederacy includes encouraging them to remember that those states left the Union largely because of their fear that Abraham Lincoln would not just stop the expansion of slavery, but abolish it all together. Remember that these people were willing to go to war to protect their right to own and exploit other people. That dims the moonlight a little bit.

The irony is, it is "heritage" to remember the Confederacy, but we are never supposed to talk about slavery. McDonnell urges people to "to recognize how our history has led to our present," but when we talk about how slavery has very real effects on our present, that is dismissed. It ended a century and a half ago, after all, and to talk about it is to search for grievances and dwell on the past or however that argument goes. The proclamation itself makes no mention of slavery, just vague allusions to "a time very different than ours today." McDonnell himself suggested that slavery was not important enough to merit mention in a proclamation about remembering the Confederacy.

That is not the only contradiction in that proclamation:

all Virginians can appreciate the fact that when ultimately overwhelmed by the insurmountable numbers and resources of the Union Army, the surviving, imprisoned and injured Confederate soldiers gave their word and allegiance to the United States of America, and returned to their homes and families to rebuild their communities in peace

No, they didn't. They fought like hell to reinstate and then maintain their previous control over every aspect of southern life, at the cost of thousands of lives and the continued denial of the most basic civic rights.

And then, the admonition that "this defining chapter in Virginia’s history should not be forgotten," as if that has ever been a possibility. (Some) white southerners and their sympathizers have been busy since the end of the Civil War making sure we never forget their noble "Lost Cause" or how near-perfect the South was before the intrusion and unwarranted intervention of the North. Confederate flags haven't just been on people's bumper stickers or their back windows. They've flown over state capitol buildings and been woven into new flags. We are not in danger of forgetting "this defining chapter."

I think what we are in danger of forgetting--and I say this as a history teacher in Texas absolutely appalled at what the Texas Board of Education is doing to the social studies curriculum--is that not everyone has had the same experiences of every event in U.S. history and that those "defining chapters" have tended to be interpreted very differently by people forced into the margins of society. That doesn't make those interpretations any less valid or real or "American."

It is enraging and hurtful to me that people expect us to learn, to teach, to glorify history in a way that disappears us, our experiences and our contributions. The history of this nation is not composed solely of the experiences and opinions of the dominant group(s).

Neither should its collective memory be.

That Itawamba County School District is Really Something

Mississippi's Itawamba County School District has recently become notorious for canceling a high school prom rather than letting a lesbian couple attend.

Turns out this wasn't the first discriminatory, hostile act they committed with regards to a student this year. When a trans student enrolled earlier this year, he* was virtually kicked out after attending only one half-day:

[T]he next time [Juin] Baize came to school, according [to] Kristy Bennett, legal director of the ACLU of Mississippi, Baize was given a suspension notice and sent home. When Juin returned to school after his first suspension, he was suspended again.

“Juin’s case was a situation where a transgender student wanted to attend school dressed in feminine clothing," said Bennett, "and the school district would not even let him attend school."

This school district seems to be in the business of teaching heteronormativity, homophobia, transphobia, the "appropriateness" of gendered clothing** and the need to maintain narrowly-defined gender expressions.

And yet, they accuse Constance McMillen and Juin Baize of distracting from the educational process.

The hostile environment that the school district is fostering is disheartening. McMillen speaks of it here and the article about Baize includes this description:

Baize's appearance and the fact that he, unlike Constance McMillen, was perceived as a trouble-making outsider made living in Fulton increasingly impossible. Beverly [Bertsinger] couldn't find work because, she believes, Fulton is a small town and people disapproved of her son. Juin was harassed when he left the house, according to Beverly Baize, so she stopped letting him go out alone and then stopped letting him go out at all.

“I’m so afraid for him,” Bertsinger told me last week. “I support him. I buy him the clothing to wear as a female. I just want him to be safe.”

The result is the continued isolation [and endangerment] of LGBTQ students, expressed so poignantly here:

Whether she intended to or not, McMillen has inspired others -- not just nationally but in her home state, said Izzy Pellegrine, 19, a student at Mississippi State University.

"I thought for a long time I was the only gay person in the state of Mississippi," said Pellegrine. (emphasis mine)

The ACLU is not pursuing Baize's case, in part because he has had to move:

“Juin not being in Fulton makes it difficult for us to pursue any kind of legal action here,” says Bennett. "And personally, I feel it may be a better decision for Juin to relocate and move on with his life.”

That last line leaves me particularly upset; people always suggest that we, who exist simultaneously as southerners and members of marginalized groups, should just leave and move on.

Sometimes, we can't. Sometimes, we have no desire to do so.

In any case, we shouldn't have to.
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*The article indicates that Baize prefers male pronouns for now.
**Remember, one of the issues in the McMillen case was the fact that she wanted to wear a tuxedo.

Constance McMillen Wins... Sort Of

Late last night, via a friend's twitter post, I heard that a federal judge had decided that the Mississippi school district that canceled prom rather than allow Constance McMillen and her girlfriend to attend as a couple had violated McMillen's First Amendment rights.

The school district does not have to reinstate the prom, however. Parents have planned a private prom, instead.

The Clarion-Ledger article linked above noted that "all junior and senior students would be allowed to attend, although it was not clear whether same-sex couples would be allowed to attend together." On other sites, I read that McMillen was not invited to the private prom.

If that is the case, the school board wins, too. They relied on an old southern tactic I described in a piece I did for The Guardian's Comment Is Free:

The prom cancellation is reminiscent of tactics from at least a half-century ago: rather than integrate public pools, parks, and schools, southern municipalities often closed them. Sometimes, in lieu of closure, they turned over such accommodations to private enterprises. In defiance of school integration orders, they opened private schools and segregation academies. Such acts allowed them to continue de facto segregation long after de jure segregation was outlawed.

If you're so inclined, please go check out the whole piece!

The Past Is Present

ETA: My best friend, who taught at our old high school, and my sister corrected me. The school did eventually sponsor off-campus proms, however, “tradition” meant that students quickly left (usually after taking pictures) to gather for their own separate (in terms of race) functions.

Dear Mississippians,

I find it amazing the type of symbolism with which y’all manage to imbue high school rituals like prom. I mean, some of you held on to racially segregated proms well into the 21st century—although some progress has been made there.*

Now I hear others of you would rather cancel prom than allow a lesbian couple to attend. This, just a few months after your execution of a flawless southern swoon at the idea of a high school senior challenging the norms reinforced by gendered clothing.

I don’t know if it’s nostalgia for the good ol’ school days. I don’t know if you're scared that Anita Bryant's predictions have come true and proponents of the radical homosexual agenda™, have infiltrated the schools and are recruiting your children.

But, really, stop. Time will not stand still. You cannot re-create your youth or what you envision as the glorious past through your children.

Your fellow southerner,

elle
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*My own Louisiana high school did not have integrated proms and, only shortly before its closing, did it stop the practice of having a homecoming court with one white and one black representative from each grade.

I, John Brown, Am Now Quite Sure...

Today marks 150 years since the failed raid on Harper's Ferry. In the aftermath, John Brown predicted, "that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood."

The historical portrayal of him for so long was dismissive and ableist-- he had to have been wild and "crazy"-- what white man would risk all that for black people? It pissed me off badly. I adored John Brown when I heard of him in my history classes. In fact, while working on my M.A., I took on the haters in a paper entitled "John Brown: Crazy like a Fox." If I had known then what I know now, it might have actually been a good paper. :-)

Thinking of how he has been "written" reminds me of several things:

1) The people who dismiss slavery as the most significant factor leading to Civil War (again, the idea that this nation would've torn itself up over an issue that had black people at the heart of it? Impossible!)

2) Tim Wise's observation that so many people, when made aware of his anti-racist work, ask, "What happened to you?!" Hard to imagine that people would actually work to disinvest in whiteness--which shows how much we need to re-think the ideas that whiteness and related privilege are largely invisible*

3) H. Rap Brown's (Jamil Abdullah al-Amin) assertion that "violence is as American as cherry pie." It's been a primary tool of this nation-state; why are we surprised that citizens of any political position engage in it? And relatedly...

4) ...The absolute dissonance that allowed southern sympathizers to write about the Klan, for the longest time, as an honorable organization, that still allows my students to be taken aback by my use of "terrorism" when I describe Redemption, but permits the vilification of John Brown.

5) Another John Brown quote:

I want you to understand that I respect the rights of the poorest and weakest of colored people, oppressed by the slave system, just as much as I do those of the most wealthy and powerful. That is the idea that has moved me, and that alone

which often makes me wonder how his position on class** also contributed to the portrayal of him.
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* And people are doing this work. Beyond the writings I've seen, a few weeks ago, I saw one of Jane Elliott's older films in which she asked an audience full of white people how many of them would like to be treated like PoC in this country. Not a single hand was raised.

** Respect for the poor and "weak" is derided now--imagine how it must've been 150 years ago.

Oh, Look, Fellow Louisianans!

We finally found something in which we can be number one:

"Louisiana's rate of women murdered by men is marked number one in the country."*

Shortly after that line, the article (from a Shreveport television station) reports: "This news hits us at a time when a local shelter for battered women is struggling to stay afloat."

Some other areas in which we are "notably" ranked (just a select few):


We have the "highest number of deaths of infants per 1,000 births and total infant mortality."

In overall child well-being, we are the second lowest.

We have the second highest rate of child poverty. We are number 49 in the nation, behind only Mississippi. Considering the facts that 1)we were "just" number 48 a few years ago and 2) "analysts see harder times ahead thanks to the still-lurching economy," Mississippi might oughta be worried--we're coming for your position, baby!

But, you know, at least we ain't supporting no crazy shit like shelters and centers for survivors of "domestic" violence**, education and better healthcare!

That would be the real drain on the citizens of Louisiana.

I mean, even if it's unclear what Louisianans are for, we do know what they're against. Trying to maintain political, economic, and racial hierarchies is much more important than the fate of Louisiana's children.

We all understand the un-avoidability of "collateral damage," right?
_________________________________________________

*This deserves a much more serious post of its own.

**That page lists centers, advocates, and support networks in 26 Louisiana parishes. Louisiana has 64 parishes.

Watching a Documentary...

...about Reconstruction and am mildly placated by one historian's linking of the era with the later civil rights struggle; he argues that "We see the legacy of Reconstruction. It took generations for [the promise of Reconstruction] to play out, but it never died."

Mmmm... That whole federal-abandonment-and-southern-rewriting-of-history thing still rankles though. Sometimes, there's a reason (or four million of them) that "Lost Causes" are lost.

Growing Apart

My son has a biography of Martin Luther King, Jr. The one part that he reads over and over, that just astounds him, is a section in which MLK realizes his childhood friendship with a white boy will not be allowed to continue.

Perhaps, because he wants to talk about that over and over and OVER, the other night, I dreamed of an event that I had not allowed myself to think about in ages.

When I was young, I had girl friends who were white.

As with any of my friends, I had sincere affection for some, a friendly rivalry with others.

My relationship with one girl, Melissa, was characterized by both of those. We were both officers in FHA, first and second clarinet in band, vying to be at the top of our class.

And we really, really liked each other.

But Melissa and I grew apart, as black and white children in the South used to do. Not so rigid a distinction as it was decades ago, but still with the implicit understanding that our adult paths probably would not cross much, that we'd have lives that were separated, in part, along color lines.

And it is a separation that I have abided by. Oh, I've made white friends in the interim, people who share my academic or political interests or who are my co-workers or who share the absolute drudgery of some PTA duties with me. But they are not people who grew up with me in a tiny, rural area where much of the world was still viewed in black and white terms.

I say that I abide by it because when I see my old friends, there is a wall that all the smiles and innocuous questions and plans for class reunions cannot surmount. It is a wall that I uphold based on (unfair?) assumptions. "We'll have nothing in common," I think. There will be mutual disappointment in the way we "turned out."

Sometimes, I am tempted to reach out to them, to ask them how they survive the pressure of being women from (and often, still in) a rural, conservative world. To ask them what memories do they have of our time in school together, of our long-ago shared interests, of people, places, and events. But I cannot. I don't know them the way that I once did. Our shared past has been lost to the present separation for which we were long prepared. The divisions along lines of race and politics are simultaneously very much real and very much constructed inside of us.

And it is not a division that happens suddenly. I brought up Melissa because she was at the center of the dream I mentioned. When we were 17, we traveled to San Antonio for a national FHA meeting. Melissa had a nightmare one night in the room we shared with our advisor; I will never forget her screams.

She'd told me some time before that her mother had been sexually assaulted by a man that had broken into their home. Her mother had not cried out, because he'd threatened her children.

I knew, as a girl, what her nightmare was about, the awful feeling of having someone creep upon you while you're sleeping, the absolute terror of realizing that a place you thought was safe was not, the horror of sexual assault.

The man alleged to have raped her mother was black, and I'd heard another story as well: that Melissa's mother and the man had long had a clandestine relationship, that her mother said she was raped as a protective move after she and the man were discovered together by her husband.

I knew, even then, that women are often accused of lying about rape, that incidents of sexual assault are routinely dismissed on the basis of "she was aking for it" or "she'd had sex with him before, so why is it an issue?"

But (and I've written about this before here and can't find the damned post), I spent a lifetime hearing from my grandmothers and other black women how dangerous white women were to black men, how black men were lynched for consensual relationships, how white women blew through our communities and did whatever the hell they wanted with little regard for the effects.

And so I felt lost. I was not mature enough to understand that, what mattered, at that moment, was Melissa's perceptions, the ones that shaped her fears and escaped her as screams in the middle of a warm spring night. Instead, I lay in bed as our advisor comforted her, wanting to say something, not knowing what to say, to do, to think.

Feeling separated from her, from all the facets of who I am.

We never talked about that night. And, after we went to college, we did not talk about much of anything. We saw each other once, still too young to have forgotten our friendship, began to talk excitedly, simultaneously... then stopped.

The few times I've seen her since then have been appropriately stiff and polite. Small smiles, a quick press of fingers, a question about kids or jobs or the temperature that require only a sweet murmur as a response.

I wonder if she, too, has excised the memories of two girls debating which was the best clarinet reed, complaining about ill-fitting band uniforms, loving English class, pondering the future of R.E.M.

If she has, are they forever buried?

Or do they linger, come to her sometimes in the middle of the night when she least expects or wants them, separated from her by time and place and mores, yet still very much a part of her?

Proper Etiquette

***Update: See Angry Black Woman here and related NYT editorial here.***

I didn't spend the whole of the presidential debate getting drunk. (So, there, matttbastard* :-) I had some really good conversations with my blogging buddies. One began when bfp asked

I wonder how many white folks are put off by obama interrupting mccain all the time.

I responded with something along the lines of, "Probably a lot. It's a serious breach of racial etiquette." Then Shannon asked me if I'd ever written a blog post about racial etiquette, because she'd like to read more. So this post is a little bit about that and a lot a bit about tangential topics.

Racial etiquette is on my mind because I recently taught about Southern "redemption" in both my classes. For the inevitable question about how white supremacy was maintained and reinforced, I talk about violence, lack of access to legal redress for African Americans, the politically solid South that kept African Americans disfranchised and powerless, the wages of whiteness, etc. etc.

And I also talk about how people learned African Americans were inferior through body and verbal language, the racial etiquette to which I referred. The examples are well-known--white southerners treating black southerners as if they were not individuals with distinctive names (boy, auntie, uncle, my niggers, etc.). On the other hand, black southerners used labels like Miss/Mrs. and Mr. even when they were much older than the whites to whom they spoke. Also, the use of titles by African Americans like "Boss" and "Cap'n" indicated their own servile stature.

Then there was the body language--stepping off the sidewalk for white women. African Americans were not to meet the eyes or shake the hand of white southerners--to do so would indicate some sort of equality. Of course, these habits would be used against us later, to imply that we were shifty or liars. Head bowing and shuffling were not about bad posture or laziness, but about not seeming too proud. Then there were the demands for always happy behavior, to ease white southerners' minds--no, their negroes were not surly or unhappy about their position! And again this fed a stereotype (black people sing and dance and smile about everything according to popular culture) and reinforced a standard (think about how afraid of an angry black man and so obsessed with "angry black women" we are). If you look at contemporary white southerners' views about slavery, most of them would argue how happy their darkies were in their "natural" state. It was only when people indulged in "foolish" abolition and equality talk that black people were riled up.

Black southerners were expected to mask their true feelings, their intelligence, their ambitions behind obsequious smiles and nodding. Neither were they to have any outward manifestations of said intelligence and ambition--southern history is full of examples of African Americans who were cheated, beaten, run out of town, or lynched for owning a car, or a nice house, or being educated, or having fought in wars to "defend democracy" and expecting democracy at home.

So, yes, Obama's interruptions of McCain were a breach of racial etiquette. You think there are no standards of racial etiquette anymore? Think about that poll that I linked to days ago--one of the questions asked of white people was if they thought African Americans were friendly. Think about how worried people are about whether Michelle Obama comes across as approachable. Think about how people of color in general are cautioned to be all delicate and polite in our approaches to issues that concern us. Think about the disparities in the way African Americans are punished--from schools to the legal system--for breaking the rules.

Think about Lynn Westmoreland's use of uppity. Maybe we can expect that of Westmoreland, but it's not just him or Republicans or racist white southerners.

(Here's one of those tangents). I've been mostly away from blogs and blogging for a few weeks, but after the debates, I did some reading. I've read, in some unexpected places, that, in the view of some, Obama broke some other rules of racial etiquette. He was "arrogant." He flaunted his intelligence (which, apparently, alienates people. Who knew a smart black person did that?!). He did not bow and scrape and did not always use Mister Senator.

I definitely chalk a lot of those observations up to a general air of anti-illectualism.

But not all of it.

Of course, part of me is taking it personally--I like feeling that the next president will be smart and more than capable. And, after 635 years in school, I have interests and thoughts and vocabulary that reflect my education. I'd like to believe that is evident on occasion. I would also like to believe that it is not perceived as an assault on other people's intelligence, an assault made even more problematic because I am black and should know how to play down my intelligence and play up my folksiness.

"Uppity" is posited as an insult with clear connotations, and it should be. But, I want to tell some people, don't focus on the word so much that you don't realize there are ways of implying uppity without ever once saying it.

Okay, I'll save the other tangent for tomorrow. My answer to BfP's question remains yes. Of the issues I have with Barack Obama, his intelligence, language, education, and demeanor are not among those. I'd like to hear what other people think and also hear about examples of racial etiquette (my list is not exhaustive, but I didn't want this post to become installment number 89566 of my-life-in-the-South).
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*matttbastard has covered a lot of this territory and as soon as I wake up again, I'll link properly.

Rocky Road II

Judge Robbie James denied the D'Arbonne Woods Charter School petition. Basically, the crux of the problem seems to be that, under Cleveland v. Union Parish,

any new school that is opened must reflect the racial makeup of the other schools within the school district. The racial makeup of Union Parish public schools is approximately 50 percent white and 50 percent black. (source)

DWCS received 225 applications. Eight were from students considered minorities.

Further, out of 27 faculty applications, only one was from a non-white teacher.
I don't think the denial of the petition is cause to celebrate. I'm glad that it seems Judge James saw through these almost-transparent efforts.

But that we're still addressing these issues over a half-century after Brown? And knowing that the DWCS board is probably going to appeal?

No cause for celebration at all.

Things Seen 2

Instilling Fear in Poultry Processing Workers, Part 2

A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about how large poultry processors systematically instill fear in their workers. Step Seven, according to my observations, was this:

Step Seven: And now that other plants have been closed, employees have been arrested, and hours have been cut, have the union present the first set of results of the "discussions" to your worried workforce (Keep in mind that the Union and the plant only recently negotiated a new agreement):

1. Elimination of paid rest periods. Employees currently have two 10-minute and one 45-minute break, for which they are paid. They are being asked to agree to two 30-minute non-paid rest periods.
2. Holiday Pay. Employees currently are paid double-time if they work on a holiday. They are being asked to accept time-and-a-half instead.
3. Insurance Costs. Currently, Employee insurance contribution is 20 percent of total cost. On 1 January 2009, that would go up to 25 percent.

Well, employees rejected the options.

You wouldn't believe the backlash. (continued after fold)

First, on the day of the vote, one employee emblazoned these words on his apron: Vote No! Don't Let Pilgrim's Pride Take Your Money.

He was fired. Now, the Supreme Court is worried about people infringing on employers' free speech (primarily the right to speak out against unions), but this man was fired.

Then came the recriminations voiced in the local paper. In the Eldorado News-Times's July 4 issue, there is an article entitled "Hanging in the Balance"* that begins:

The future of Pilgrim’s Pride in El Dorado continues to hang in the balance, and a vote by members of a local labor union this week added even more uncertainty to the continued operation of the facility and the economic forecast of El Dorado and South Arkansas.

Members of the union soundly rejected concessions that were offered by the company in an effort to improve quality and productivity at the El Dorado poultry processing plant and stave off full closure of the facility.

The union reportedly cast a 5-1 vote on Wednesday, and company officials and community leaders met the action with a resounding expression of disappointment.

I knew it'd be downhill from there. Plant workers, who are trying to protect their interests are about to cause the downfall of the whole city.

The closing of Pilgrim’s Pride would devastate an already sluggish local economy with a loss of more than 1,600 jobs and hundreds of contracts for growers in Union and surrounding counties and northern Louisiana.
(snip)
Dumas said he believes the vote will prompt “some serious downsizing” of Pilgrim’s El Dorado facility, and he offered a bleak outlook on the results of a very likely shutdown.

Then there are the not-so-veiled threats.

Ray Atkinson, director of corporate affairs for Pilgrim’s Pride, said all of the community’s efforts will be taken into consideration in future evaluations of the performance of the El Dorado facility and decisions about its future in Union County.

Unfortunately, so will the local union’s vote, which Atkinson called a “setback.”

Emphasis mine. And yes, the "objective" reporter did use the word unfortunately.

Then there are the statements that employees took as slights.

“I was hopeful that the company and union officials had explained to union members how important this was, not only for them, but for the community,” [Mayor Mike] Dumas said.

Because they are incapable of deciding what is important for them, their families, and communities. And

"[M]any of those (Pilgrim’s Pride) workers are unskilled, so there’s nowhere to go."

This is just the argument town booster's put forth to attract industries to the South, the promise of cheap, docile, unorganized labor with few options. I guess I just never expected to see an acknowledgement of that in the local paper.
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*Subscription required

Rocky Road

Rocky Branch, Louisiana, is officially part of the parish seat of Farmerville. But the area very much has its own history. Black residents of Union Parish know it as a sundown town. My parents have always cautioned me that if I had to travel to or from Monroe after dark, take I-20 through Ruston. Do not, they drilled into me, take the "shortcut" through Rocky Branch.

Today, I asked my dad if he knew specific examples of why Rocky Branch was considered a sundown town. "No," he said, "My parents taught me the same thing. So when I thought I would be there after dark, I took my pistol."

***

Thirty-one miles northwest of Rocky Branch lies another Union Parish town named Bernice. The black students who comprised part of the class of 1970 at Bernice High School (BHS, also in Union Parish) call themselves the "lost class." I heard the story the first time at Mrs. O's mother's wake. Many of her classmates shared stories of their time together. Invariably, they alluded to the "lost class" story. Sometimes, they laughed about it. Other times, they sounded bitterly hurt. (continued under the fold)


The lost class story centers, in a literal sense, around a picture. Each senior class at BHS has a collage class portrait in the hallway of the building that houses the administrative office. BHS integrated, finally, during the 1969/1970 school year. One Friday, the black children at the segregated Westside High were told that they would not return there. Monday morning, they reported to BHS. The white senior class had already taken its portraits. The school refused to re-do it. Thus the first integrated class at BHS is represented by an all-white portrait.

Union Parish had resisted integration quite successfully. In 1960 the school board resolved that it would refute any efforts at "race mixing," reassuring white parents that it stood for complete segregation.* Parish residents sent a letter to Governor Jimmie Davis, urging him to "use every power at your command, including the Legislature, interposition, or any other means to retain segregation."** Both The Gazette, Farmerville's newspaper, and the Bernice News-Journal posted an essay, above their headers, about the "Tragedy of New Orleans" school desegregation.


As late as 1969, judges included Union Parish in the following description:

Fifteen years after Brown, school boards in the Western District of Louisiana are still unwilling to face up to the prerequisites to effective desegregation. These prerequisites are the transitionary short steps which must be taken now and the planning for the long steps that must be taken to effect lock-stock-and-barrel desegregation. More than two years after Jefferson this Court is still not able to get the message through to these school boards that the standard for determining the effectiveness of a desegregation plan is an objective one: Does it work?

The answer, in Union Parish, was no.

Union Parish had a "freedom of choice plan" which allowed students to choose which school to attend. During the 1968-69 school year, only .4% of black children in the parish attended formerly "white" schools. In May of 1969, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit noted:

We do not abdicate our judicial role to statistics. But when figures speak we must listen. It is abundantly clear that freedom of choice, as presently constituted and operating in the Western District school districts before us, does not offer the 'real prospect' contemplated by Green, and 'cannot be accepted as a sufficient step to 'effectuate a transition' to a unitary system.'
(snip)
We are urged by appellants to order on a plenary basis for all these school districts that the district court must reject freedom of choice as an acceptable ingredient of any desegregation plan. Unquestionably as now constituted, administered and operating in these districts freedom of choice is not effectual.

And so Union Parish, among others, finally learned what all deliberate speed would be.

***

But the issue of school desegregation was not decided in 1969 for Union Parish. By 2004, BHS was overwhelmingly black. And Rocky Branch Elementary, a K-8 school, had 2 Latin@ students. The rest of the 160+ students were white.

Segregated schools were not the only problems faced in Union Parish. The school district is quite poor--I often tell the story of how, when I taught there in the late 90s/early 00s, we were still using purple, ditto copies. There was never enough of anything--the playground had no equipment. Our textbooks were outdated. We were underpaid. Saving money was always priority.

But how do you save what there is so little of?

And so, the school board proposed another solution. Union Parish, in terms of land area, is the second largest parish in Louisiana. Transporting students to so many locations was expensive. But full consolidation meant that many students would spend hours a day on a bus. The compromise was to close three schools. Rocky Branch Elementary was one of the three.

Our first reaction was, "Please. They are not going to let their kids go to school with ours."

And many Rocky Branch parents didn't. They relied on the old standby in this area, the private Cedar Creek School. Some sent their kids across parish lines to Ouachita Christian, the legality of which is questionable. They swelled the enrollment at Union Christian Academy.***

But most significantly, they began to press for a charter school, D'Arbonne Woods. Insistently.

Initially, they were turned down as Union Parish residents spoke out about "Rocky Branch and its history as it relates to race." The Union Parish School Board refused to sponsor them as did the Louisiana Board of Elementary and Secondary Education (BESE).

The D'Arbonne Woods board kept pressing. So much so that the UPSB's new superintendent briefly considered re-opening Rocky Branch Elementary. The tide began to turn for the charter school board. In 2007, the Louisiana legislature issued resolutions supporting the creation of the charter school. Finally, last December, BESE approved their request with contingencies.

And one of those contingencies is the reason I began this post with the two stories I did. On July 11, D'Arbonne Woods Charter School must demonstrate to a federal court that they comply "with the same federal desegregation order by which most districts in Louisiana still operate under." The board has been careful to portray the school as a public charter school open to anyone. The board's executive director, Corie Williams, claims that

We have gone above and beyond in our efforts toward minority recruitment. We have a board level minority committee that is charged with that very thing, to make sure that we are doing more than everyone else in actively recruiting minorities.

I have no doubt that they've done what will look good on paper. But as my sister asked when we were discussing this, given the not-so-distant history of Rocky Branch, who among us will be willing to let our children go?

I should note two things here. First, I have mixed feelings about charter schools, especially in economically poor areas. I've already noted that funding for public education in Union Parish is atrocious. ****Update below**** Union Parish could lose approximately $453,000 to D'Arbonne Woods. They would want to use the Parish's bus system and would occupy, for this first year, the property owned by the school board. Also, D'Arbonne Woods has a stated mission of serving at-risk students, a group which includes children with special needs. But Louisiana charter schools haven't been too successful at meeting these children's needs.

Second, Union Parish is a struggling school district. Louisiana gives schools a ranking from one to five stars. Six out of seven Union Parish schools earned one star for the 2006-07 school year. Test scores are overwhelmingly below state average. Intervention and alternatives are definitely needed.

But I would note that the people of Rocky Branch had no problem being part of Union Parish School District as long as their children were allowed to remain in their 99% white school.

There is a petition circulating in the parish, the text of which is below.

The Honorable Judge Robbie James

As residents of Union Parish, we, the undersigned, are deeply concerned about the adverse affect D'Arbonne Woods Charter School will have on Union Parish public schools and the future of our children and communities.

Given that the school would be free from many laws and regulations governing public schools and has a not-so-clear admission policy, and the known history of Rocky Branch's racial disparity in education--Eric Cleveland v. Union Parish School Board--we strongly feel D'Arbonne Woods Charter School, located in Rocky Branch, would undo all efforts put forth by BESE to guarantee racial balance in our schools and academic equality for all students.

We furthermore feel those precious dollars taken from existing schools to support D'Arbonne Woods Charter School would cause additional financial hemorrhaging to those already suffering schools and communities.

We believe a quality education is every child's inheritance, but that it does not have to come at such a large cost to children and communities.

We are encouraged you will rule on what is just, true and fair for a secure future for our children and their future.

Repsectfully,

Union Parish Residents, Parents, Educators, Students, and Community Leaders

I'll keep you updated.
__________________________
*“Board Reaffirms Stand on Segregation,” The Gazette, 15 December 1960.
** “Local Citizens Back Governor in Segregation Fight,” The Gazette, 10 November 1960.
***Buses for Cedar Creek and UCA come to our town, too. They pick up children in the parking lot of this church, as Mrs. O noted, that has segregated gym nights.
****Update**** That is, if local school boards are required to fund a portion of Type II charter schools.

"the last documented mass lynching"

The FBI and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation are gathering new evidence in a sixty-two-year-old lynching case.* From the Moore's Ford Memorial Committee site:

On July 25, 1946, four young African Americans—George & Mae Murray Dorsey and Roger & Dorothy Malcom—were shot hundreds of times by 12 to 15 unmasked white men in broad daylight at the Moore's Ford bridge spanning the Apalachee River, 60 miles east of Atlanta, Georgia. These killings, for which no one was ever prosecuted, enraged President Harry Truman and led to historic changes, but were quickly forgotten in Oconee and Walton Counties where they occurred. No one was ever brought to justice for the crime.

One of the women was pregnant. The murderers cut the fetus from her womb.

The immediate spark for the lynching was the accusation that one of the men had stabbed a white man:

In mid-July, 1946, Roger Malcolm** and a white farmer, Barney Hester, got into an argument. Hester suffered stab wounds and was taken to a hospital. Malcolm was arrested and taken to the jail in Monroe, the county seat of Walton County. The Black community immediately feared for Malcolm’s life. The Hester family ranked among the most powerful and it was unlikely that such an act of defiance would not be met with a harsh response.

The next day, segregationist Gov. Eugene Talmadge*** running for his third tern as Georgia’s top elected official campaigned in Monroe and delivered a racist tirade, pledging that under his watch, the social status quo of white supremacy would be maintained. He met with the injured man’s brother, George Hester, and is reported to have offered immunity to anyone “taking care of the Negro.”

On July 25, Loy Harrison, the landowner for whom Roger Malcolm and George Dorsey worked, came to the jail and paid the $600 to bail Malcolm out.

Harrison said he was taking them home. Instead, he took them to the Moore's Ford Bridge where they were murdered.

Many of the articles I read note how people, particularly Robert Howard, tried to keep the case in the public eye (including an annual march on the bridge)--or, at least, on law enforcement's radar--but no one would come forward. At least, not until Clinton Adams recounted what he'd seen that day at the bridge as a scared ten-year-old hiding in the bushes.

And now, finally, a GBI spokesperson says, "The FBI and GBI had gotten some information that we couldn't ignore with respect to this case."

In a written statement, the FBI and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation said they collected several items on a property in rural Walton County, Georgia, that were taken in for further investigation.

I hope the results will lead to some measure of justice for the Malcoms and Dorseys and their families.
________________________________
*The case seems to have been reopened around 2000.
**I've seen the name spelled Malcom and Malcolm. I think the first is correct, but I didn't correct the sources I quoted.
***I read about Talmadge in Michelle Brattain's The Politics of Whiteness. To say he was a slimy character would be an understatement.

Maintaining Segregation

When I made the commitment to start blogging again, my goal wasn't to come here and report everyday on how racism is alive and thriving in my area. But some stuff, I just gotta tell.

I live in an area of the South that was largely biracial--(non-Hispanic) black and white--and racially stratified for most of the 20th century. But, in the early 21st century, things, at least on the surface, are changing. The geographic boundaries that separated the "black" and "white" sections of town are increasingly disregarded. Poultry processing plants and timber industries have attracted a number of Latino residents to the area. And we have our first black mayor.

There is the problem of white flight--there are fewer than ten white students at the local school, though the town is still about one-third white. Still, it's changed significantly since I was growing up here.

Yesterday, my younger cousin was at our house visiting my son and nephew. At some point, he was ready to go so that he could play basketball at the gym of First Baptist Church. I was a bit surprised as First Baptist is a "white" church. The only church with a predominantly white congregation in my town that routinely reaches out to the whole community* is Pisgah Baptist. My son and nephew asked to go and my dad said no. When they walked out the door, he told me the reason he said no was, "I don't see how they can justify letting the black kids have just one night."

"What?" I asked. He repeated it. I asked for more details and he explained. The gym is open five nights a week. White children can go two nights, Latino children can go two nights, and black children get Thursday night.

"What?" I mean, that's all I could say. "Is that what people do or did the church people say that?" I asked my dad. Again, he repeated the breakdown. "No, Daddy. Did they say that?"

And my dad, who's a deacon at my church, finally confirmed that, yes, they said that. They extended the invitation to our church officers that way. And our pastor politely declined.

I'm still saying "what?" What makes the people at First Baptist think this is okay? Because I really believe they think they're being generous. What makes them think our kids can't play together? And why, as I've told this story over and over to (black) people in the last 24 hours, has the response still been, "Why do our kids get only one night?"

Apparently, we've become so accustomed to the division that it's like second nature.
____________________________________________________
*Which is not to imply that the black churches here do conduct community-wide outreach programs. The churches, at least, have changed little.

Guess What April Is????

So, I'm flipping through the local parish newspaper--fourteen pages of church news, hunting news, and legal notices--when I come upon a proclamation by the parish police jury. An excerpt:

WHEREAS, all citizens of _________ Parish and Louisiana should study the War between the States, as we study all wars, so that we may understand the events which led to the war and... continue to learn from the past and live together peaceably and avoid future conflicts...

THEREFORE, we, the Police Jury of _________ Parish, do hereby proclaim April 2008 as:

CONFEDERATE HISTORY MONTH

Now, it would seem to me that if we were going to understand the "events which led to the war," looking at more than one side would be helpful. Maybe a Civil War History Month? (I can't believe they said the War between the States!!!)

The proclamation..., well, proclaims "that we can all learn from the lessons of history and thereby be in better positions to preserve these ideals for posterity."

What ideals??? I swear, the first thing that popped in my mind is that this was a statement, a la Trent Lott on Strom Thurmond.

Now, I haven't made up my mind exactly what I'm going to do celebrate Confederate History Month, seeing as how I'm a historian and all, but I have some ideas.

Despite my perturbed-ness, my dad suggests it might be a good idea. What people can learn from Confederate History Month, he says, "Is the stuff we won't stand for anymore."

How I Know I'm Back in the Rural South

Actual sign from the high school basketball game I attended tonight:

Writing about the Jena Six

In the last couple of months, I was heartened to see all the people who blogged about the Jena Six, the journalists who began to cover it, the films and documentaries made. But I noticed some things in the coverage with which I took issue (yes, aside from the fact that national news outlets were a loooong time coming).

First, was this South-as-other-syndrome (closely related to the racism-is-a-thing-of-the-past-in-the-rest-of-the-nation syndrome). I read over and over, articles and posts that implied racism was a southern phenomenon that had died out in the rest of the U.S. some four of five decades ago. Lots of links between racism and the deep South, lots of "Wow, it must be like the 1950s down there!", lots of impassioned denunciations from southern expatriates and "I may have never lived there, but I just know how it is" other-region-ers.

And I thought, "Whoa." Now, part of my academic work is based on the idea that, in matters of race and color, the South does have an exceptionally poor record and a dogged determination, exhibited throughout U.S. history, to maintain the status quo--a racial hierarchy with African Americans, and especially poor African Americans, at the bottom.

But the South is not some anomaly, some other place from which the rest of the U.S. can separate itself. To think of racism and legal injustice as southern problems is analagous to the 19th century idea that slavery was a southern institution. It is also to dismiss and reduce the racism that permeates the whole of this country, its institutions, its cultures, its very foundations.

Rather than thinking of the South as an abnormality, we might better think of it as a bellwether. For example, the labor historian in me would point out while the South may have been particularly anti-union and anti-worker, the rest of the country seems to have followed suit. And, while thousands of African Americans migrated north- and westward in the first half of the 20th century, something is now pushing us out and pulling us back to the South (in other words, do racism and lack of opportunity play a role in the North's loss of status as a "promised land?").

I am also particularly troubled by this desire to cast racism, references to lynching, and different treatment within the legal system as some held over anachronism. No, it's not just like the 1950s. It's just like the 21st century because it is the 21st century, and the shit happens all the time. I remember the outrage I heard from one DJ in Texas when she found out that a school in Georgia just held an integrated prom this year. It was ridiculous, she thought, and someone should have done something and this couldn't happen anywhere else! I thought, hell, it was just like that at my old high school until a few years ago. And to pretend that children in other areas don't live in a segregated world just because they don't go to segregated proms is just fake to me.

And speaking of segregation-by-tradition, this idea that the town of Jena "split" over the last year (or divided or separated or any of those other titles I read) over the circumstances surrounding the Jena Six is simplistic, as well. So many towns down here do not split along racial lines over some significant event. Instead, it is a split that is long cultivated, that is instilled in us early and reinforced and maintained throughout our lives. In other words, Jena residents did not "divide" over these cases; these cases deepened and sharpened an already existing rift.