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| Knoxville, TN- who knew it was so beautiful! |
Occasional trips to see my aunt in Winston-Salem (and a jaunt or two to Orlando or Cancun) notwithstanding, a trip south of Prince William County was a very rare occurrence growing up. I still remember the horror stories my biological father would tell me about the racism he experienced growing up in the 60s and 70s, and these sentiments were echoed by my grandfather, who was generally a very open-minded and forgiving man. Maybe it was these stories. Maybe it was my obsession with Addy, the slave American Girl doll, and the stories I read about her (fictional) life on the plantation. Maybe it was the liberal media telling me how to think and feel. Whatever the reason, I grew up having an…let’s describe it as uneasy feeling about the South.* From the time I was quite young, I remember picturing the South as underdeveloped, its population as uneducated and racist and the climate as hot, humid and alligator-infested.
Going to school in Williamsburg helped cure me of my Southern prejudices and misconceptions to a degree. I met tons of amazing Southern gents and belles who were open-minded, educated and interesting. Williamsburg does have a huge colonial village, but it also has a Wawa, so I’d consider it more developed than other places I’ve lived, such as Denver or London. The weather is definitely hot and horribly humid, but I never saw an alligator. During that time, I even learned that I have a very soft spot for men with Southern drawls (!!!!!!).
However, despite all this evidence to the contrary, I hate to say it, but my preconceived, unfounded and stereotypical notions about the South have yet to completely reside. I’m not sure why. Anyway, these fears made the thought of going to Tennessee last weekend a little daunting. Misgivings cropped up in my mind faster than you can say “Driving Miss Daisy”: would Fox News be the only source of information available to me? Would I be swarmed by rabid Tea Party people who could smell my liberal leanings? Would people ask me, as is common when I travel to points South, what I am? (I always assume this is a question about my race, but maybe not. Suggestions on what this could mean would be greatly appreciated.) Would I be bitten by an alligator?
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| Sunset over the Tennessee River |
OK, so maybe I’m hyperbolizing a little bit, but I was definitely a little nervous about going deep into the South, something I’ve done only a few times before. (As an aside, I was met with more than a little justification for my feelings of unease and uncertainty during that trip. But that’s another story.)
And lo and behold! All my appendages are accounted for- no alligators to report. No one seemed to mind the fact that I find Bill O’Reilly insufferable or Paul Ryan a lying, devious cad (he is quite handsome, though). The weather, although hot, was actually beautiful and everything was green, so incredibly green, something I’ve missed out here in Colorado. Everyone was perfectly pleasant and polite. I even decided I want a little Southern drawl AND tried non-Wawa sweet tea for the first time! Although I’ll stick with Wawa brand, I have to say, it was quite the cultural experience.
The takeaway here is that, while I still have to admit I would never really want to live anywhere South of DC, I’ve learned that simply accepting my preconceived notions about a place is not, and should not be, permissible. If I’d let my unease get to me, I’d have missed out on a really great weekend and an interesting cultural experience.
Take away: Sometimes it is important to just throw your stereotypes aside and go and see what things are like for yourself.
*As several snarky know-it-alls like to point out to me, DC is actually beneath the Mason Dixon line, making me, in fact, Southern. HOWEVER. As a child of two people from points far North, not to mention the fact that DC was the capital of the Union AND is a pretty cosmopolitan area, I’m going to have to argue that I may have been raised in the geographic South but, culturally, I’m not at all Southern.