An Ordinary Mom's Musings

Years ago when we were trying to move out of Alaska, I half facetiously had my eye on The South. I had small children who were starting to learn what back talk is and experimenting with its use. Oh to be in The South where Southern manners were taught, not just by me, but everyone they came in contact with!

While never in my wildest dreams did I expect my life to bring me to Mississippi, I now find our life here.

Unfortunately, apparently, this move came a little too late for my children. When we got here both my children were in middle school. Teachers here expect children to use “Yes Ma’am, No Ma’am.” Apparently, my children are exempt from its usage, because the teachers know that they didn’t grow up here. My daughter loves the fact that the teachers actually wait to hear the words “Yes Ma’am,” before moving on from every other student but her. She has a pass. Much to my delight, she is working on its use in spite of her pass, except when she’s at home with me. 😉. She’s also adding “Y’all” to her vocabulary as often as she can.

In The South, these terms and their usage are universally acknowledged forms of respect and proper Southern manners. This past week their usage struck me strongly in a very different way.

I work in Human Resources. One of my duties is to prescreen people we are considering hiring. I get both predictable and wildly interesting answers to our prescreening questions. Last week someone answered that she did have something pending on her record in the past 10 years but really downplayed it. I asked if she would like to elaborate. It was for attempted murder!

One day I went through my list of applicants, calling them to ask my questions. I spoke with several Black males. Every question was replied to with a “Yes’m”, or a “No’m.” But something in the way they said it gave me pause. It sounded very deferential. It sounded like they were using this response because their mothers had taught them to, but also because they had to. I was in a position of power, I was the first person they had to get by to be hired. It may have been nothing.

But it made me stop and think.

This really rubbed me wrong. There are some things I encounter in The South, that being raised on the west side of the country are strange and at times unacceptable to me. The mascot for my alma mater until fairly recently was an old white guy who looks a bit like Colonel Sanders from KFC. Their name? The Rebels. If I were anywhere else but The South, I’d probably identify pretty readily with a name like The Rebels. I’ve always been a bit of a rebel when it came to the usual way of doing things. But living in The South makes the term take on a different meaning. It makes me uncomfortable.

There are many things I absolutely love about The South. There is much to be loved and admired here. But there are also things that have made me look deeper, pause, and reflect. Sometimes they are things that locals don’t think anything of, that look different to me viewing as an outsider. But I’m also trying to remember that I am an outsider, and not judging prematurely. There is much history I have yet to learn.

So I will continue my journey. I will learn about being a Southerner, trying to get my children to use and remember their Southern manners while I use curiosity and time to sort through this very different culture I find myself in.