Life below the Mason-Dixon Line isn’t as simple as some people want you to believe.
I was delivering pizza in Alabama in the summer after high school, and I delivered to a quintessential country man. I was blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd “Simple Man” from my car’s speaker, because when the temperature is in the triple digits, you have to listen to some Southern rockers who understand. I delivered to this man in camo shorts, a torn NASCAR shirt, and cowboy boots.
My immediate assumption was that this man was the worst of what we believe Southern men can be: a racist. He signed his debit card receipt, and I handed him his pizza. He stopped. He studied me for a minute.
“Is that Skynyrd?” He asked.
“Um, yeh.”
He cracked a toothy smile. “I like Skynyrd. Hold on.”
He disappeared back into his apartment. A moment later, he emerged holding a ten dollar bill. He held it out to me. “We Skynyrd fans gotta stick together.”
I took his money. He took his pizza and closed the door, saying, “Rock on, brother.”
Looking back on this now, I realize something concerning; I was what I assumed him to be. I made assumptions about his character based on white skin, his clothes, and the sport he likes to watch.
Growing up in Alabama, I should have known better. I’ve known great people with thick Southern drawls. My oldest friend is a country boy from his hat down to his boots. His dad has the kind of accent that has to be subtitled for cable television. Also, I’ve known racists in business suits who thought I shouldn’t date their daughters; people who said, “What will others say?”
So, now, I’m thinking about myself. I love college football. I have a favorite NASCAR driver. When I get comfortable with someone, my vowels start to get mushy and my i-n-g endings tend to get lazy. I was born in Alabama, and I love the state. I wear cowboy boots with jeans about 250 days of the year. Do you have an idea of me? Well, I’m also in graduate school studying poetry, I love fantasy and sci-fi, I’ve written comic books, and I’m black. Not what you expected?
If you made assumptions based on a few superficial details, don’t feel bad. I’m not any better than you are. All we can do is try to proceed forward with more open and accepting minds.
Rock on, brothers.
Do you have stories about life below the Mason-Dixon Line? I want to hear them. Leave them in the comments or submit them to me at [email protected]
Photo— Flickr/ Freestock