I am from this land my eyes are cut from these sapphire skies my knees have stained this clay with crimson blood I belong to this land my past sways among these pines my secrets sink in rivers brown with shame my soul carries this land of nights alive with beams of promise of sun so bright I burn with longing ~E. Davis 01.02.07
I’m Southern. If you’re Southern too, you know it’s complicated.
This land is terrible and beautiful all at once and truly, deeply misunderstood.
From the outside, the country sees a backward place. A place filled, they think, with racism. From the outside, I imagine we seem slow, and not just in our speech. From the outside, I am sure we are perceived as many things. I can’t really speak to that, because I’m not on the outside.
I imagine it’s easy to stand on the outside and assume. It’s easy to proclaim and declare how things should be, but it’s harder to live the change. I’m working to live the change. I believe in the beauty we have here. I see you, fellow Southerner, struggling, too, to live the change.
There is kindness here. There is good here. There is hope here. It isn’t even all that hard to find. You don’t even have to know where to look.
I know the eyes of the country were on Alabama. Now that Alabama has done its part for change, eyes will likely turn from Alabama to focus on the next big cause. In a similar fashion, the eyes were here on us to “Flip the Sixth” in the northern Atlanta suburbs. We didn’t flip, but we did fight. I’m proud of our fight. I’m proud of Alabamians for fighting harder.
In the small Southern town of my childhood, people were black or white. People for the most part were Protestant, as we were. I never knew a Jewish person and quite frankly even being Catholic was considered an oddity. There was a predominantly white private school and a predominantly black public school. My siblings and I went to the public school. We were also considered an oddity. I am grateful for this.
That was the status quo in the 1980s; I don’t pretend to know the status quo there in 2017. What I do know is how incredibly fortunate my own children are to grow up in a school and community teeming with diversity. They know people from all over the world who celebrate all different religions and traditions. They truly, honestly don’t know the world a different way, and I am so, so grateful for that.
It’s easy to become discouraged because change doesn’t happen quickly. But I see it happening. I see it in an election in Alabama. I see it in a near-victory in the northern Atlanta suburbs. I see it in the halls of my children’s schools. I see it at soccer games, at chorus concerts, in the pews of my (Catholic) church…
I’m not one to belittle the beliefs of others. You know your heart and I know mine. To me, this change isn’t about party or politics; it’s about people. If you love this place, you work to shape it. You work to ensure Southern hospitality extends to all, not just those who look and think and feel like you. There may have been pain and anger and hatred in our land’s past, but there will be joy and love and hope in our land’s future.
Don’t stand on the outside and assume, come on down. All y’all are welcome here.
#bethechange