Page 10 - SOUTHERN VOICES_2020

I love the South: the land of hillbillies, heart attacks, and herpes just has a certain ring to it. What other region can lay claim to such prestigious titles?
The South is a funny place. Everyone will ask you how you are doing, yet no one will care about your reply. “Good” better be your answer, or you’ll quickly be drowned in a sea of fake sincerity. Don’t you dare tell anyone you aren’t a Christian, or you’ll soon be flooded with self-righteousness and judgment. It’s impossible to go twenty miles on the highway without seeing a cross or sign mentioning Jesus. Confederate statues litter town squares, monuments to the very thing that stole the future and lives of so many southerners. There is no other place in the world with such a résumé.
When I was a freshman in high school, I was
called “gay” for playing tennis. People use “gay” as an insult often in the South. If you like pop music, play any non-traditional sport, read, care about your grades, dress nicely, along with a million other things, you’re at risk of being called gay. Even if I were gay, why does
it matter? The bigotry here runs rampant. Some people actually have to hide their sexuality for fear of being kicked out by their families.
Those are just simple examples. Growing up in
the South brings up many more challenges. You’re likely to be ridiculed, gossiped about, and made fun
of if you do anything contrary to the common rigid moral standards. Teenagers get drunk on Friday night and show up to church on Sunday, looking picture perfect in their blouses and button-ups. Racist old folks preach love and acceptance. All I have ever wanted is authenticity. So many voices, so many promises, so little consistency. Nothing is more frustrating.
It’s not all so bad, though. I think back to my grandmother dying when I was just a kid. I barely remember her if I’m honest, but what I do remember
is the reaction of the Buckatunna community. I had never seen so many cakes, pies, casseroles, and other assortments of food in my life. People came by nonstop to just give Poppa a hug; and he needed it, too. The community was the only bright spot in his darkest
days, something for which I will always be grateful. Eventually, Poppa remarried. My step-grandmother is southern-born and southern-raised, just like Poppa. Both are the kindest people I know. They’re always there for a hug, always there for words of wisdom.
More people are like my grandparents than I realized. What some may perceive as fake sincerity
is actually often genuine kindness. When they ask you how you’re doing, they mean it. Isn’t that a great feeling? If you get a flat tire, chances are someone you know will pull over and help out. That’s another beautiful thing about the South: In many places, everyone knows everyone. After every trip to the grocery store, you’ll become an expert in family news from all the people you know you’ve met but barely remember.
So sure, the South has its fair share of problems. But where doesn’t? In the end, the South is one of the most beautiful, heartwarming, and caring places on Earth. It may not be perfect, but it always feels like home. And most importantly, problems cannot be fixed when all the solutions run away. So here I am, and here I’ll stay.r
Daily Farm
Samantha Holland
Photography
The South
Luke Bowles
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