Mississippi is still burning...
So ten days ago I attended my sisters wedding,it took place in a little town called Canton in the not so great state of Mississippi. I did not look forward to the trip, not because I had never met the "husband to be" although that did cause some trepidation but the location. My family is originally from NYC and with both of our parents dead this setting was for the benefit of the "HTB". Having never been to "Ole Miss" nor many places down south, all I could conjure up were images from TV documentaries on the Civil Rights Movement, movies and books I had read. Not that I expected to see hooded klansmen riding through town in pickup trucks(well maybe on some level) but I did know it would be a place where my welcome was tenuous at best. Not to mention that every single friend I know when told of my up coming trip stated incredulously "Why?" followed by "Don't go anywhere alone".
As I stepped off the plane in Jackson what hit me first was the heat, robbing my breath and making me break out in a sweat and this was just the airport. It was 92 degrees with 90% humidity, not helped by my east coast uniform of black on black. Spring has not yet sprung in Boston so I was woefully unprepared. I immediately felt different, self conscious in a way I haven't felt since I was an adolescent. It could have been my tattoos, my obvious gender bend (being a butch dyke) or my color but whatever it was I felt uneasy. I read every look by a white person with suspicion as if their sole purpose was to do me harm. Completely ridiculous in some ways as I just had a very pleasant conversation with a white man from Jackson on the plane, but even he stated that his hometown was very "backwards " in some ways. I finally retrieved my bag and made my way to the exit searching for the familiar faces of relatives not seen in years but who's faces are etched permanently in my mind. Picked up by nieces who's ages are not far from mine, we made our way in the icy comfort of rental car AC to Canton about 30 miles to the north.
Canton, Mississippi is known as the "City of Lights" this according to the sign made up of Christmas tree lights as you enter the town limits followed by an equally lit rendition of Mount Rushmore. I could find no comparisons to Paris which was up till the only "city of lights" I knew but held my judgment in hopes of the spectacular. Apparently the moniker comes from the rows of previously mentioned lights strung across the tops of the buildings in the tiny downtown area. I guess an expected let down. Made it to the hotel located on the outskirts of town it's a new structure most likely built to accommodate out of town executives for the new Nissan plantation, I mean plant. Nissan appears to be the only real source of employment since most of the cotton mills have closed, and picking cotton to export does not seem to be very appealing to the younger generation of Canton or the many Mexicans that have emigrated to this little town. Again that feeling of being different comes as I am scrutinized by the manager and several employees as I check in. After producing more than the customary forms of ID I am allowed to check in. Some rest needed as I have been up since 4am and that was with 2 hours sleep.
After a 45 minute nap it's off to rehearsal and dinner. Driving through town you can clearly see the delineation of class and race as we leave the town center with its historical buildings and white faces to run down shacks, trailers and an occasional neatly manicured lawn and tidy little house. All the faces are brown now. We pull up to the church which I have since found out is Catholic but with the name Holy Child of God fools me into thinking it's Baptist or Pentecostal. There is a tall fence around the perimeter that was build in the not so distant past to shield white eyes from the spectacle of Blacks attending a Catholic church. Time to meet the in-laws. My family out numbers those of the "HTB" having flown or driven in from all parts of the country to see little sister marry. I'm unsettled at the prospect of seeing so much family at once. We are not close, some I have not seen in over 20 years, and I tend to become overwhelmed in crowded situations and here I have nowhere to hide. But I know it's not about me. I have not compromised who I am in any form including dress so upon meeting the in-laws I am met with stares of curiosity from some and what appears to be disdain from others. Fuck it I think, if someone wants to have a dialog I'm ready and willing... but no one does. I then begin to realize it's not just me in the deep freeze about being a dyke but my whole family is getting the same vibe tossed at them. Kinda a "Just who do these halfbreed, light-skinned, Jewish, Yankee, uppity Negroes think they are?" Wait I think were all in the same boat, being black in amerikkka and all..But not here, not Canton, Ms. 2005. Its an old dynamic, 400 years old. It's the house vs the field and its perpetuated to this day in this small town and others across the "New South" I am slapped hard with my ignorance and detatchment from these realities. I check myself and my own issues with classism, internalized racism and try to understand. Eventually I do, though it still stings. There is that unwritten rule of how Black folks behave down here and my family does not conform. Witnessing harsh treatment of a young Black man by two white girls prompted my 15 year old niece to state "That wouldn't happen where we are from because the white people are afraid of the Black people back home" When I relate that comment to a friend , she tells me of the racist treatment handed to two Black church ladies in Pennsylvania over of all things, where they could sit on a bus. That brought up memories of my own DWB arrest and treatment at the hands of Massachusetts state troopers. Memories that to this day can send me to some dark place that at times can be very hard to see my way out of. I guess the correct statement should be amerikkka is still burning in NY,PA,MA,CA,MI,OH,TX and on and on...The wedding happened...There were no major throw downs...The bride and groom returned to their home, thankfully 6 1/2hrs away...And as far as I can see I'll never have to go to Ole Miss again...As for my family I probably won't see them again until we are brought together by another wedding or funeral...
As I stepped off the plane in Jackson what hit me first was the heat, robbing my breath and making me break out in a sweat and this was just the airport. It was 92 degrees with 90% humidity, not helped by my east coast uniform of black on black. Spring has not yet sprung in Boston so I was woefully unprepared. I immediately felt different, self conscious in a way I haven't felt since I was an adolescent. It could have been my tattoos, my obvious gender bend (being a butch dyke) or my color but whatever it was I felt uneasy. I read every look by a white person with suspicion as if their sole purpose was to do me harm. Completely ridiculous in some ways as I just had a very pleasant conversation with a white man from Jackson on the plane, but even he stated that his hometown was very "backwards " in some ways. I finally retrieved my bag and made my way to the exit searching for the familiar faces of relatives not seen in years but who's faces are etched permanently in my mind. Picked up by nieces who's ages are not far from mine, we made our way in the icy comfort of rental car AC to Canton about 30 miles to the north.
Canton, Mississippi is known as the "City of Lights" this according to the sign made up of Christmas tree lights as you enter the town limits followed by an equally lit rendition of Mount Rushmore. I could find no comparisons to Paris which was up till the only "city of lights" I knew but held my judgment in hopes of the spectacular. Apparently the moniker comes from the rows of previously mentioned lights strung across the tops of the buildings in the tiny downtown area. I guess an expected let down. Made it to the hotel located on the outskirts of town it's a new structure most likely built to accommodate out of town executives for the new Nissan plantation, I mean plant. Nissan appears to be the only real source of employment since most of the cotton mills have closed, and picking cotton to export does not seem to be very appealing to the younger generation of Canton or the many Mexicans that have emigrated to this little town. Again that feeling of being different comes as I am scrutinized by the manager and several employees as I check in. After producing more than the customary forms of ID I am allowed to check in. Some rest needed as I have been up since 4am and that was with 2 hours sleep.
After a 45 minute nap it's off to rehearsal and dinner. Driving through town you can clearly see the delineation of class and race as we leave the town center with its historical buildings and white faces to run down shacks, trailers and an occasional neatly manicured lawn and tidy little house. All the faces are brown now. We pull up to the church which I have since found out is Catholic but with the name Holy Child of God fools me into thinking it's Baptist or Pentecostal. There is a tall fence around the perimeter that was build in the not so distant past to shield white eyes from the spectacle of Blacks attending a Catholic church. Time to meet the in-laws. My family out numbers those of the "HTB" having flown or driven in from all parts of the country to see little sister marry. I'm unsettled at the prospect of seeing so much family at once. We are not close, some I have not seen in over 20 years, and I tend to become overwhelmed in crowded situations and here I have nowhere to hide. But I know it's not about me. I have not compromised who I am in any form including dress so upon meeting the in-laws I am met with stares of curiosity from some and what appears to be disdain from others. Fuck it I think, if someone wants to have a dialog I'm ready and willing... but no one does. I then begin to realize it's not just me in the deep freeze about being a dyke but my whole family is getting the same vibe tossed at them. Kinda a "Just who do these halfbreed, light-skinned, Jewish, Yankee, uppity Negroes think they are?" Wait I think were all in the same boat, being black in amerikkka and all..But not here, not Canton, Ms. 2005. Its an old dynamic, 400 years old. It's the house vs the field and its perpetuated to this day in this small town and others across the "New South" I am slapped hard with my ignorance and detatchment from these realities. I check myself and my own issues with classism, internalized racism and try to understand. Eventually I do, though it still stings. There is that unwritten rule of how Black folks behave down here and my family does not conform. Witnessing harsh treatment of a young Black man by two white girls prompted my 15 year old niece to state "That wouldn't happen where we are from because the white people are afraid of the Black people back home" When I relate that comment to a friend , she tells me of the racist treatment handed to two Black church ladies in Pennsylvania over of all things, where they could sit on a bus. That brought up memories of my own DWB arrest and treatment at the hands of Massachusetts state troopers. Memories that to this day can send me to some dark place that at times can be very hard to see my way out of. I guess the correct statement should be amerikkka is still burning in NY,PA,MA,CA,MI,OH,TX and on and on...The wedding happened...There were no major throw downs...The bride and groom returned to their home, thankfully 6 1/2hrs away...And as far as I can see I'll never have to go to Ole Miss again...As for my family I probably won't see them again until we are brought together by another wedding or funeral...
posted by RacialRobinson at 11:24 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home