Just another boring blog.

I was born southern. No, literally. When I came out of my Mama’s womb, crying into this world, Gone with the Wind was playing in the background.  Thus began my early love affair with Clarke Gable and of course, every girl’s favorite ungentlemanly gentleman, Rhett Butler.  

As I grew up, my parents, on purpose or accidentally, made sure I saw almost every Civil War battlefield.  I’ve been to Vicksburg, Fort Sumter, Gettysburg, Atlanta, Kennesaw Mountain, Savannah, New Orleans, and dozens of tiny little battlefields that dot maps or are stops with bathrooms across the south, and even across the Mason Dixon line, the only major one, I venture to say, I haven’t seen is Appomattox, but my parent’s love a good family vacation, so don’t count it out yet.

It’s not just the Civil War that makes me southern.  It’s that I know how to fix a pitcher of sweet tea—and I know after a day of sitting on the counter, it’s no good.  It’s that I’ve sat on wooden pews in a tiny church and sang hymns straight from the Red Hymnal (and that I actually know what that is).  I can make chicken and dressing, fry chicken, beans, cornbread, and gravy and biscuit, flavored right,and from scratch if need be.  And I know the best cornbread comes from an iron skillet in my Grandma’s kitchen.   

It’s not just food that makes me southern.  It’s that my Mama, my Daddy, my Grandma, Mema, Papa, Ma, Pa, and a whole lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins, and a community of people from a little town called Lyerly, right on the Georgia-Alabama line made sure I was raised right.  I say yes ma’am, no ma’am, please, and thank you to people who are older than me.  The older I get, the more things like ‘honey’, ‘darlin’, and ‘bless your heart’ come out of my mouth—yes, that makes me southern.  It’s that I’ve spent time on sticky back porches in July, with guitars around, swatting at mosquitoes, while a mason jar slips its way around and people all sip at the clear shine that sets their eyes on fire.  

It’s not just friends and family that make me southern.  It’s that I’m from a little one horse town, in a little corner of Georgia, where the Appalachian Trail begins—I’ve been hiking pieces of it my whole life, but my Daddy would call it walking trails.  It’s that everyone there knows my name, my family’s name, what year I was born, and that my Mama was born a Dooley, but married a Hartline.  

It’s not just where I’m from.  It’s the way words roll of my tongue. The way my I’s stretch out when I say “right” or “fight”.  It’s the way nobody ever knows what I want when I ask for a bag of “ice”.  It’s in the way I say “Y’all”, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  It’s how every single syllable drips with an accent that’s thick as sorghum and gets thicker with every beer.  

It’s not just how I talk or what I say.  It’s that I put a lot of pride in it.  I appreciate being raised with manners.  I love that my parents made me visit all the Civil War battlefields.  It’s that when people ask me where I’m from, like I might be from another country, I smile, and tell them Summerville, Georgia.  And I couldn’t be prouder to tell them that I was from anywhere else.  It’s not that I drink sweet tea or eat grits— it’s that when I had to do without those things one summer, it made me more homesick than anything I could possibly imagine. 

It’s not just my pride that makes me southern.  It’s that it’s in my heart.  My veins run with blood tinged sweeter from tea, made stronger from corn whiskey, and made tougher from a southern sun. It’s that my bones are happiest in an old pasture, staring at the stars.  It’s that I know it’s ragged history and don’t look upon it as black marks, but something awful that should be taken as a lesson learned and not to be repeated.  It’s that I know while some things will change, that the heart of the south lies within it’s people.  It’s that I know that being southern isn’t about any of those things, how you talk, what you can cook, how you were raised, it’s about your heart.  Love it, and it will love you back. That’s what makes me southern. 

Since it’s Good Friday and Easter will be here in just two days, I thought it might be nice to discuss religion, a bit.  If anyone ever asks me, I’d say I’m about as Baptist as they come. I can sing the songs from the Red Hymnal, even play a few.  I’ve heard Hellfire and Brimstone, and my mama had me in dresses from the time I could walk until I graduate high school, and even for a while after that. Amazing Grace was one of the first songs I ever learned to sing.  And I have wonderful memories of standing in the pullpit with my Daddy, as he played his guitar, and we sang songs together. 

As I got older, I began to feel God less and less in the times I was sitting in the pew, uncomfortable, legs crossed, listening to the preacher.  It wasn’t that God wasn’t there.  I’m quite sure he was.  I’ve seen people clean up their acts at the altar like you wouldn’t believe.  But, even as a little girl, I never was an altar pray-er.  I began to feel like God just wasn’t around for me, even though he really never did leave.  Church was one of those places I went because my parents made me, not because I really enjoyed it or even wanted to hear what I though were the same sermons I’d been hearing pretty much all my life.  As a result of this, and a thousand other things, my faith faded, and I had a heart that wouldn’t properly mend. 

Now that I’m a little older, and I’d like to think a little wiser, I’m coming to find a relationship with my faith and with God, again.  It hasn’t been easy.  A little at a time.  And I’m finding God in little things.  I find him in Alan Jackson’s voice on the radio.  In a little kid who tells me they love “Ms. JoAnna”.  I find God in my sweet Lucy girl, who loves me unconditionally, even when there are times I’ve been horrible to her.  Sometimes, I walk through the woods, down a sidewalk, and I just take a deep breath and open up my heart and my mind and I can feel God, running through my veins.  He’s there.  I say little prayers all day now, where at one time, I did good to say one a month.  I try to give more to him, and let it go, out of my hands.  I read his word and I try to understand the context and the love that could make something so much bigger and powerful dry the tears from my cheeks when I’m having one of those dark days we’ve all had.

I’m not sure how this has come about.  And I’m still taking my time.  It’s like this all new to me.  Faith, prayers, the word, feeling God, knowing his presence is with me.  But I’m getting there a little at a time.  But I know that church isn’t where I find him.  I know your supposed to fellowship with other believers, and in my own way, I do, I think.  But at church, in clothes I don’t like, with people I don’t know all that well, it’s not where I find the peace, the comfort, and the raw spirituality that I feel when I’m in a moment and I’m saying a prayer and I just feel His arms wrap around me.  I know for some people, church is the be all end all and Easter is the proof that God is worth it, that he did give his son to die for us and everything.  But I won’t be at church on Sunday morning.  I’ll be in the corner of a little park, watching Lucy play, and quietly thanking God for his blessings on me, for his absolute grace, and for sacrificing his son so that I could live, here, happily, for a time.  And I think, since God knows my heart, that would be perfectly acceptable to him.

Somehow, almost all my posts are political.  And now seems to be the time to be just that.  I’ve slowly and surely become more liberal and more democrat as college has entrenched in my mind an understanding that goes beyond what Fox news can tell us.  

Let’s start with Nombre Uno: 

O’Bama did not cause the economic recession (or, at this point, edge of depression) that this country has been in over the last four years.  A recession takes months to begin.  For example, the current recession began when the housing market started flooding with houses for sale, pushing the price of houses down below their actual value.  Banks took risks by giving loans to people who couldn’t actually afford those payments, thanks to deregulations.  So, the banks got stuck with a bunch of houses that weren’t paid for, and banks only make money when those payments are made, thus the bank crisis (though this is obviously a dumbed down, simpleton’s version of events).  When the market flooded with houses, people couldn’t sell the houses they couldn’t pay for, thus, bank mula is gone. On top of that, when the housing market fell, the market for building houses fell, further shoveling crap onto our economy.  People didn’t need nails or lumber, or a thousand other things it takes to build houses that places like Jim Walter (which subsequently died from the collapse of the market 4ish years ago) bought en masse.  As a result, those industries also suffered a recession.  Beyond that, people couldn’t afford to pay for new houses, much less new cars, and companies spend as much as they make, so there you have it GM. As a result of deregulation of companies, trade policies, etc. many companies were able to move their factories overseas, where labor is cheaper, there are even fewer worker regulations, and they were still able to keep their companies mast head on some fancy address in New York City or a dozen other metropolitan cities.  THAT deregulation upon trade did not come from the O’Bama administration. 

Now, let’s talk about that pesky healthcare bill everyone is whining about.  The one that requires insurance companies to pay for birth control, to help Planned Parenthood, and to keep students, like myself and my peers, on our parent’s insurance until we’re 26.  Millions of people go without healthcare every year.  And what does this do to you, the consumer of healthcare with insurance? It skyrockets your prices.  Your insurance goes up, your hospital and doctor’s bills go up.  Why? Because hospitals, specifically emergency rooms, are required to take anyone, regardless of their insurance status.  Someone has to pay for this.  Wouldn’t it be better for EVERYONE if affordable health care was an option; If a self employed 43 year old man could get insurance without paying an arm and a leg, so you, the already insured don’t end up paying for his heart attack from the McDonald’s he eats every day? As far as birth control and Planned Parenthood, do you honestly think that someone who is on birth control or who has an abortion does those things without thinking about the consequences? Someone who has an abortion is not someone who just goes out and has sex and then gets pregnant and just “kills her baby”.  Let’s think about it: Chances are that woman has excellent reasons for having an abortion.  She’s asked herself: “how fair would it be to bring a child into this world, when I know I can’t care for it on my own?” Of course there’s always adoption, and that’s the argument of many anti choice leaders.  I’ll let you each decide your own fate on that one. Regardless, it is not congress’ right to tell ANYONE what they can or can’t do with their body.  Laws don’t make cancer patients have treatment.  Laws don’t make diabetics eat right.  So why should laws be there to make women have babies? 

Now let’s talk about those “socialist policies” that make me laugh. out. loud. Like, ya know lol. 

O’Bama wants to take from the rich and give to the poor. O’Bama wants to take my money. Uhh…no? 

O’Bama recognizes that certain people are at a disadvantage.  He sees that a 16 year old who quit school in 9th grade, has a child already, and has a mother who has done her best, but simply can’t be there with her child 24/7 because she works two jobs, is at a disadvantage.  There is so much inequality in that statement I could cry ,and that’s without adding race or the overarching family’s economic background.  Let’s start with the teachers who let this child drop out, the absence of programs that worked to keep him in school and out of the street.  How about how there were only 4 sports programs, none of which interested this kid, who would rather be putting things together? How about how no one would hire a kid who looked like he belonged on the street instead of flipping burgers for some extra change in his pocket? Not a disadvantage? Someone has to show him out to dress, how to act in those situations, and if he’s black, there’s a 1 in 3 chance his dad is in jail and a 1 in 5 chance his dad is dead somewhere, because of a system that puts black people at a disadvantage.  So, the man who should be showing him what to do isn’t around.  Now let’s talk about the fact that he has a child.  There’s a baby mama somewhere saying I need some Pampers, some baby food, some formula.  That money has to come from somewhere, and since he can’t get a job, he has no option but to turn to illicit or illegal means.  So he starts slinging dope.  And Mama doesn’t notice because she works two jobs trying to pay the bills and she’s so tired when she gets home that all she can do is heat up some mac and cheese and go to bed, because she’s been disadvantaged too.  Her high school was discredited, so she couldn’t apply to college, and she couldn’t have afforded it anyways.  She would have probably had an abortion, but at 500 dollars a pop, she couldn’t afford it and her birth control wasn’t paid for.  The father of her 16 year old is in and out, but usually causes more harm than good.  She had food stamps and welfare, but Clinton signed a bill that said she could only be on it a few years, leaving her with practically nothing.But, Heaven and Hell forbid we implement programs, and give money to people who may need our help.  Heaven and Hell forbid we actually work to change the inequality and disadvantage caused by a system that was designed in the 1930’s. 

Okay, I’m done.  You may or may not agree with what I’m saying. I may be wrong and my opinions may be lack-luster.  I’m not here to argue with anyone.  But, we have to stop blaming one man for a country’s worth of problems.  One man did not do the damage we have seen done to our country, and I’m with any candidate who says it’s time for a lot of changes to come into play in politics and our country.  But as yet, none of them have showed the common sense O’Bama has had, and until they do, my vote will be cast for him. 

Yesterday, a bill failed to pass in Mississippi that would have given human rights to embryos at the moment of conception.  It’s a particularly disturbing law, because of the far reaching ramifications it could have possibly had— and even with those unintended consequences pointed out to supporters, they continued to support it. 

When you define an embryo as a human at the moment of conception, that doesn’t just block abortion for the sake of abortion (i.e. for whatever reason you choose not to have a child at a given time). This bill, titled proposition 26, would have also blocked access to abortions that were medically necessary because of ectopic pregnancies and other health risks to the mother—when an embryo would have no real statistical chance of surviving to begin with. Proposition 26 would have also banned common forms of birth control like the “morning after pill”— a $50.00 I should have used protection last night but didn’t pill available at your local drug store that keeps eggs from being released or keeps fertilized eggs from attaching to the wall of the uterus or by thickening mucus in a female’s reproductive system to keep egg and sperm from joining.  So, it wasn’t just your garden variety I got knocked up but shouldn’t of abortion this law was aimed at preventing. Personhood is a silly law that someone came up with to prevent women from choosing—which is really the issue at question here anyway. If you care to look more into personhood and why it doesn’t make sense, look here: http://stfuhypocrisy.tumblr.com/post/12444635356/the-legal-ramifications-of-a-personhood-amendment

Moving right along: IF this personhood law had passed last night in Mississippi, it would have signaled an erosion of women’s rights within the United States.  Rights that have steadily increased and systematically declined in the very same contradictory breath.  Women now work the same jobs men do and in theory get paid the same.  Yet, when we have the very children Prop. 26 says we should have, we lose wages, we don’t get paid for that time we must take off from work, and if we take off work to stay home with our children, we face losing our job.  If we decided to take years off work and become a stay at home mom to the benefit of those children, we lose many of the advantages and opportunities we might have had in the public sphere to the private sphere, which is no less demanding, but offers an entirely different set of advantages and disadvantages that are important to note, including dependence upon a partner for money and an undervalued and underappreciated role within our society that those with jobs say “wouldn’t it be nice if I could just afford to stay at home and raise babies”.  Anyway, that is neither here nor there.  The point is, to erode women’s rights by depriving them of the ability to CHOOSE is one of the single most problematic issues that still confuses this country. 

We don’t tell men they MUST have children.  We don’t pass laws that make them wait 24-48 hours after signing up to have a vasectomy to think about it and be sure it’s what they want.  We don’t make them watch videos about what it’s like to have children.  We don’t question their commitment to carrying on the human race.  We don’t question their masculinity.  As a society, it is perfectly acceptable for a man to never have children and have a vasectomy to keep it from happening.  I understand that men are not the receptacles that bring children into the world. I really do.  BUT when you turn women into receptacles—objects that are simply meant to continue the human race—we LOSE SIGHT of women as people, as humans.  We forget that women have the same rights as men and that right should include the decision to have children when and if a woman is prepared and ready to do so.  When a person demands that women have children, often defined as pro-life, they forget that there is more than one life in an equation that involves both an embryo and a woman, no matter how you define it.  

I am so incredibly concerned for the next few generations of children who grow up in our world.  I know that every generation says the next is worse and that sort of thing.  And I’m sure when I’m 80 I’ll say just that.  But the fact is, children today are growing up in a culture (in America specifically) that is hyper sexualized, hyper masculinized, and hyper everything else.  Sure, children today will have opportunities that were still taboo to my parents generation, and to some effect, my generation, such as same sex marriage (which I whole heartedly believe will be a reality before I’m dead).  And while it is wonderful that we’re calling all of this diversity and progress, is it really? We sell a specific image to everyone. You need to be white. You need to be skinny. You need to have straight teeth.  You need to be sexy.  

You can call it what you want.  The fact is big boobs, tiny waist, and white skin sells.  Is there some diversity within that? Not enough, because black children still, in clinical tests, see themselves as not good enough.  Children today learn how to shake their ass before they have read their first chapter book.  That’s a problem. 

So who’s fault is it? Well, it’s a little bit of everyone’s.  If you take the Marxist approach, it would be capitalism and patriarchy.  I’ll ignore the socialist jokes here and just preach on patriarchy.  We live in a society based on it.  The male is the bread winner, the male must provide and at the very top of this list is the white male, who saves us all, thank God.  However, as a culture, we consume this media.  We let it dictate our lives and tell us what’s hot, what’s not, and who we should be.  We’re all guilty of it. I know I am.  We let it tell us that even today, rape is a woman’s fault, men should have more sex than women, that women aren’t good enough to be leads in most tv shows (seriously, think of the tv shows that you know of that have female leads portrayed always, with the exception of SATC, The Closer, Rizzoli and Isles and Bones, I can’t think of any who focus soley on females), most movies and most major news networks.  I know we’ve come a long way in these departments.  But the fact remains, we send a specific message to kids.  

What is that message? Cut on your radio. Listen to the first pop song that comes on. Sex. Sex. Sex. Turn on your tv.  Watch the first show that pops up on MTV, sex. sex. sex.  Turn on Disney Channel, see a fat kid? See a kid who looks anything remotely close to different.  

I know this all seems rather unimportant, but our media closely defines what American culture is.  If American culture is the things I’ve talked about, how is one supposed to negotiate the true diversity of real life, when the one we see on tv is not?  How is a child supposed to understand what an important part race, sex, gender, and class play, when we let stereotypes of welfare black mamas, illegal immigrant hispanics, and middle class white people predominate our media? How is a child, who will one day grow up to be an adult, supposed to understand they don’t have to subscribe to those stereotypes?  How as that child grows up, is he or she supposed to look past the bullshit they’ve been fed their entire lives via the media? Especially when parents won’t talk about the subjects that need desperate change within our society.  Especially when children are socialized that girls are different from boys.  Especially when children aren’t talked to about race because parents assume their children don’t see color.  Your children aren’t color blind fool. To change a lot of systemic oppression and other shit, our media has got to stop selling sex as a way to do it all, as the ultimate expression.  It actually just shows us how deeply tied our culture is to an ideal that pushes every other group down, stepping on toes, ears, knees, and shoulders on the high heeled shoe of sex.  

southernbelleisms:

You don’t become Southern.  You are born Southern.

(via myheartisajungle)