Knock-kneed and barefoot, eating fresh pecans on Mama D porch; the South was always about surviving; staying above that which can easily bring you down. Walking the same Mason-Dixie line with those still engrossed in America’s fabric; blood, slave stained fabric dripping with racial relevance. From the cattle and horse fields of Texas to the citrus trees of Florida groves, the South was always about surviving; keeping firm faith amongst a storm. Double consciousness becomes the very entity that keeps a collard green, chittlins, cornbread eating child’s mind intact; acknowledging that I am in a world that will never fully accept me for my color is seen first. No matter my age, regardless the decade, the words, “nigger girl!” have still been yelled out of a school bus window at me. Much has changed in the South, yet under the surface much is at a progressive standstill. Read more
The Dead Mule School
Online since 1996. "No good Southern fiction, poetry, essays, cornbread, coon mule jumping competition, swamp dance or pig pickin' is complete without a dead mule..."