A Yankee Goes South

There is a strong sense of pride that comes with calling yourself a southerner.

In need of a vacation, I decided to take a road trip. I hopped in my old, beat-up car that no longer had working air-conditioning, drove down from the land of awful, liberal elitists (yes, New York City) and for twenty days, in an attempt to relax, I went fishing, camping and hiking. My travels took me through Virginia, West Virginia, Florida, Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Ohio and Pennsylvania. In a strange turn of events and without planning to, I also ended up in Charlottesville on the day of the Neo-Nazi rally. As you might guess, my vacation wasn’t always relaxing. It was, however, eye opening.

I found that many white southerners are certain, with fists clenched at their sides and their toes dug deeply into the sand, that the statues and monuments to Confederate leaders that heavily populate the south, and whose names are also on schools, parks and roads, are the basis of southern heritage and identity. The slightest whisper to the contrary was the equivalent to lighting a very short fuse to a powder keg of defensiveness and anger.

This sort of reaction always caused me a great deal of confusion. My northern, Yankee mindset understood having pride in where a person was from. The amount of pride New Yorker’s take, for example, in just saying the name of their city could, if adequately measured, turn the Statue of Liberty’s green cheeks pink. I could not fathom though, why white southerners would want their identity associated with one of the darkest parts of America’s past.

The more time I spent out of my bubble the more I began to notice that that every time the word, notion or history of slavery came up in conversation, people, specifically white people, would change. Jaws would quickly tighten. Hands and legs would uncomfortably fidget. The air would grow tense and I heard different variations of, “Again with this?” “I get it. Slavery was bad.” “I didn’t cause it.” “It’s not my fault this is how things are.” These sentences were never said out loud. But when people spoke, the heart of what was really being said could be clearly understood. There were also those who didn’t mince words, saying, “They should be happy. Things are better for them now.”

I believe the cause of these words and the tension that came with them, like the root causes of racism, is conditioning.

Every American has heard the word, “slavery.” But while people know the literal definition, it seems that many white people either aren’t capable of or just don’t want to understand the true historical context of it. When trying to discuss institutionalized problems that grew out of such enslavement, compassion and understanding become easily overlooked. I found that, to many, slavery and racism had completely ceased to be a historical fact. They were now only triggers.

America, in terms of slavery, has never had a deep, accepting discourse about what happened. Yes, we talk. But only at each other. “They should be happy,” is a good example of this. The constant bombardment and futility of social media is another.

It seems that many Americans don’t understand what it means to respectfully listen to another human being. In a broader context, when was the last time you had a discussion and considered something new? In a narrower field, how many people would deny, passionately, that we are a society where systematic racism simply does not exists?

In my travels, I found the answers to this second question to be many.

How can we possibly begin to deconstruct such personal, societal and generational conditioning? How do we approach an unwillingness to speak civilly, with each other? I wonder if, in trying to change perspectives, thinking differently might help. What would happen if the next time the word “slavery” came up in a conversation, we substituted it for “human trafficking?”

Perhaps this could give us pause.

I do not believe such an idea will change the mind of Neo-Nazis and other violent extremists. I do not think semantics will be the out-and-out end of racism. But for everyone else, perhaps this could be a small step in the right direction.

I feel that the application of such an idea is paramount. If just bringing up the basic facts of history and what monuments represent feels like a personal attack on a person’s pride, heritage and identity, how far, as a both country and a people, do we still have to go?

It’s important to understand that the Confederate leaders immortalized on these statues and memorials did not just casually support inhumane ideas. They went to war and hundreds of thousands of people died for them. Did you know that in the battle of Gettysburg, which lasted three days during the Civil War, there were over 51,000 casualties? To give that perspective, the total number of service men killed in action during the entirety of the twenty-year Vietnam War is estimated at 47,434. Think about those numbers. All that death, over the legality of human trafficking.

Some of the people I spoke with during my trip were convinced that the Civil War wasn’t about human trafficking. “States rights,” they said confidently, “Was the real issue.” In response to this notion I would like to share with you a quote from Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens “Cornerstone Speech” which he gave in Savannah, Georgia on March 21st 1861:

“Our new government is founded upon exactly [this] idea; it’s foundations are laid, its corner- stone rests upon the great truth, that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery — subordination to the superior race — is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great, philosophical, and moral truth.”

I have always believed that the number of loving, kind and good-hearted people that inhabit our world far outweigh the bad. If that’s true the question then becomes why do so many Americans who have “good” in them fight so hard to keep their identities and heritage aligned with ideologies like human trafficking? Or, put another way, why do white southerners and for that matter a great number of other white Americans, not want these monuments and memorials removed?

Well, would you want to own up to a past filled with atrocities? If you did how would that make you feel about your choices in the present? How big of a wrench would that throw into your moral, ethical and day-to-day life? I think it is much easier, and far less painful, to just shut the door, completely, on such thoughts. And, if possible, to blame someone else.

This difficultly in seeing the error in our thinking and the unwillingness to own up to our actions, both in the past and present, may very well be part of the human condition. People, by and large, do not like change. The rational is that what we don’t know is terrifying. It could harm us. So, in fear, we cling as tightly as we can to what’s familiar, regardless of how “wrong” it might be.

If we were to let go of the certainty we cling to, what would we find on the other side? What is it that hides just past our greatest fears? There could, most certainly, be pain. But there could also be a great deal of knowledge. And, possibly, understanding. A bigger question is, after we learn of an error in our ways do we, as citizens of this country, possess the kindness and mental fortitude to look at ourselves and humbly admit our mistakes?

I believe we do.

Working towards this will not be easy. Change of any kind, both personally and societally, rarely is. But if the past is any indication of what can be achieved, I think it will be worth it.

In the face of fear we must show courage. This does not mean violent or angry action. This means self-control, compassion and forgiveness when confronting the unknown. We must let this courage lead to change because there was a time when the world was flat. There was a time when it was illegal for women to vote. And in America, least we forget, there was a time when the color of your skin determined if you were a fully-fledged human being, or only three fifths of a person.

The way I see it, white southerners actions, deeds and words speak a great deal louder then a bunch of lifeless metal. These statues represent the past. But they do not have to define who people are in the present or future. We, as both a people and a society, get to choose what defines us. That choice does not have to include fear, anger, supremacy or hatred. That is why I think such names, statues and memorials should be removed. Not because it’s the answer to our troubling past, but because it can be a start to working through and understanding it.

We live in a strange and dangerous time. The President of the United States of America proudly flaunts an unwillingness to unite his country. As a person he seems to enjoy causing chaos and division. As commander in chief he seems more focused on tweeting and his ratings then his duty to lead. We, this countries divided citizens, must work hand-in-hand, without him, for a better tomorrow. We must change. Anything less will lead us to even more division.

In the course of my travels I spoke with bikers, waitresses, bartenders, truckers, self-described hillbillies, red-necks, hippies, locals, mechanics, country singers, actors, writers, hikers, drag queens, democrats, far- right republicans, libertarians, independents, students, teachers, kids, grandfathers, a homeless person and one very large and angry black bear.

I had the great fortune to learn three important lessons.

First: No matter how fast you think you are you cannot outrun a bear. Humans have two legs. Bears have four. That’s not a race you’re going to win. So, if you ever decide to go hiking, don’t be like me. Bring a can of bear mace with you.

Second: When traveling across the American south, do whatever it takes to make sure your car has working air conditioning. It gets unbearably humid once you get past Virginia.

Third: I discovered that, despite what the media reports and what the content on every social networking platform tells you, division is not something the majority of Americans want. Everyone I met, while saying it in slightly different ways, was very honest about that.

It has been said that existence is about the journey and not the destination. When I contemplate the road our country is currently traveling down, with its sharp twists and fragile, uncertain turns, I often think on the wisdom of a great man. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once foretold, “We must come together as brothers, or perish together as fools.”

Please. Let us come together.