Southern Reflections

The first day of class Dr. Caisson asked us all to close our eyes and anonymously answer a few questions. First she asked who in the class considered themselves southern. I, of course, raised my hand. I grew up on a farm outside of Huntsville, AL, and after a timid foray into Washington, D.C., I hightailed it back to stay below the Mason-Dixon Line. Dr. Caisson then asked us to picture a person from the south. She asked, “Who is picturing a white, redneck man?” Evidently I wasn’t the only one raising my hand, because Caisson challenged us with the question, “Why are y’all so willing to give your power away?!” I couldn’t believe it myself. Why was I picturing a redneck man when I, a liberal, feminist, considered myself a proud southerner? Scarlett O’Hara, Mammy, Martin Luther King, my mother, or me would all have fit the description of a southerner, but that was not the image that popped into my head. Never had my concept of southern identity been interrogated in such direct terms, nor could Caisson’s remark be dismissed as simple, Yankee misunderstanding.

What does southern mean? I didn’t expect to be addressing this question in a nonfiction class. When I registered for the course I thought I would be learning some really practical money-making skills about how to write biographies. I did not expect to be enrolled in a southern studies film class that was investigating what is meant by nonfiction as it relates to the southern imaginary. Being both proud and southern, though, I thought I would handily conquer the subject material. But the south lost the war, and I pretty soon lost my grasp on what was true about being a southerner and what was fiction. Particularly reading Confederates in the Attic created a lot of doubt for me, and I had a mid-semester southern breakdown. Being on the losing side of a lost cause was not something to be so proud of after all, especially when this pride was just code for racism and segregation. I was forced to confront what my staunch southern pride really represented, and I did not like what I saw.

So how did researching the homeless pet population and dog rescue in the metro-Atlanta area fit into a southern studies nonfiction class, and more importantly how did it help restore my southern faith? I had no idea what I would discover during my research, but I did think that there was something distinctly southern about the high numbers of homeless animals in Atlanta. My investigation and specifically my interview with Emory professor Dr. Donna Troka revealed that what I thought was southern was actually racist. I assumed that the large number of homeless pets in the south was due to callous ignorance prevalent in urban, low-income, impoverished areas. I believed that certain breeds like pit bulls, which dominate the homeless pet population, were popular primarily with Blacks as status symbols of wealth and power. After speaking with Troka, though, I learned that the main reason the south has so many more homeless animals than other parts of the country is the warm weather. I could not have been more wrong in my assumption. I didn’t know that I was bringing that racial bias to the conversation, just like I hadn’t realized that my southern pride was misplaced. Even more eye-opening was that the popular bully breeds do represent status, but among rescuers, who are primarily middle class, white, and often women. Troka sees the grassroots efforts of people from priviledge helping animals as a starting point for what she calls talking across difference. People who ordinarily would not meet come together at volunteer organizations to help animals. The pets, especially pits, allow people the opportunity to help each other as individuals and then as communities.

I could pursue this research in so many directions, but I would most like to continue exploring the women’s issues that presented over and over again during the semester. Racial strife is synonymous with the south, but at the core of segregation is a women’s issue. Segregation exists to protect white women from black men, but where are women’s rights today? We pride ourselves on segregation as a thing of the past, but sexism is a living undercurrent in our society, and not just in the south. In fact many of the issues that were addressed this semester, racism, romanticizing the past, the blurred lines between fiction and nonfiction, are human issues, not just southern issues. The south happens to provide a convenient backdrop for our nation to observe how these social ills manifest and resolve. Perhaps as long as the prevailing image of a southerner is a white, redneck man, then the women’s role in the New South may be limited, but not any more so than in the rest of the nation. What if the new face of the south was a strong, independent woman like a single, black mother?

Being southern, then is not false pride in a lost cause. Being southern is what we make it to be. I could not have accepted this possibility, though, without recognizing and talking about the investment I had made in hurtful falsehoods. Acknowledging that I actively harbored racial prejudices was not easy, especially in front of an audience. I felt like I had to say it out loud, though; if it cannot be said out loud for fear of shame or fear of offending someone, then it will never lose its power. We can never become part of the New South if we keep secret the shames of the Old South. I wanted to be honest in my presentation about what I had learned, both about animal rescue and about myself. My presentation could have been superficial, but I would have cheated myself of a huge opportunity to grow. I returned to school to retool for a new life. This class helped me to realize that in order to tell a new story I have to let go of the old one.