A Southerner's Thoughts on Paula Deen: This is Not a Southern Thing, It's a Class Thing

I will not dress this article up with a pretty picture. These are slaves in chain in East Africa, part of my heritage.

I've been thinking a lot about this Paula Deen controversy, so I'm going to be totally honest. I was raised in the South in Paula Deen's generation. She is five years older than I. I have never been a fan of hers, because she seemed fake to me, what my mother would call "white trash with money," which in a southerner's mind is the only thing worse than being white trash at all.

Yes, I Have Used the "N" Word

In the interest of full disclosure, I have used the vile "n" word growing up. We used to have penny candies called "n" babies and Brazil nuts were called "n" toes. Using this and that to fix something was called "n" rigging. It was part of the vocabulary of the day. That being said, my mother once punished me severely for calling our housekeeper that word where she could hear.

Why I Am Not a Southern Racist

My mother was raised on an island. Her family had slaves, something we are not proud of, but that didn't mean they were racist. In fact, their slaves fought along side them during the Civil War and the ones who died were buried on their property and mourned like family. Many of the rest chose to stay and work on the plantation, or what was left of  it. They were given land, a house and a job and many of them lived there until they died. When they were too old to work and care for themselves, my family helped care for them. That's just who we were and who we are. Can I say there was never a racist in my family? No, I cannot, but from what I have learned through my genealogy work and what I know first hand, we would not have dressed them up in white shirts, black pants and bow ties and paraded them in front of party guests any more than we would have our family.

Living on an island is different, because everyone is interdependent. The closest neighbor my mother had her age was a black girl named Addy Miller. Her family owned a little house, which I now realize was just a shack, at the end of our road. Every summer, we would go to see Addy, who had gone to college and was now a teacher in New York City. My mother called Addy her best friend. They exchanged letters and birthday gifts for many years. When Addy died, my mother cried for days. I never thought of Addy as anything other than part of our family.

Growing Up in the Racist South

Because of her upbringing, my mother did not tolerate racism in our home, and neither did my father. During the early 1960's, we lived in Greenvillle, SC and there were mini race riots at the bus stop in front of our house almost daily, where the kids from the high school, both black and white, got off the bus. My brother got involved in one once, and my mother put him on restriction for weeks. Unfortunately, that lesson didn't stick, because my brother grew up to be a racist, which broke my mother's heart.

In 1968, the U.S. government came up with the not-so-great idea of "Freedom of Choice" to desegregate schools. It basically said that if a black child could provide transportation to a white school, they could go to it. We had one black student named Dan in McCleneghan High School in Florence, S.C.. He was a wonderful athlete, and a fine human being. Once he turned down my collar on my shirt and it got twisted into a rumor that the "n" word had his arm around me. My then boyfriend, who was a racist from a small farming community, had something vile to say about it. It was the first time I ever slapped a man, but I did, then I dumped him. You see, Dan had so much more class than he did, I could not see myself associated with him any more. I often wonder what happened to Dan. I have prayed that he did well for himself.

I was raised on gospel and soul music. I grew up thinking black people were the salt of the earth. My life was so steeped in the culture, art and music of the black community that one of my Jamaican friends calls me a black girl with white skin. I am proud of that. So many beautiful and wonderful things we have in the U.S. today came to us with the slaves from Africa.

The Difference Between Me and Paula Deen

The main difference between me and Paula Deen is not only her upbringing, but that I changed with the times and she didn't. I don't use that word to describe people anymore. My father always said "Blood will tell." That's pretty much how I feel about Paula Deen. I truly believe she was taught a hatred of and disdain for blacks that was borne of her great-grandfather's suicide and perpetuated throughout the generations of her family. She has racism so ingrained in her from her upbringing that it's part of who she is. She can trot out her token black beneficiary on t.v. as much as she wants. I hope helping him makes her feel better, but honestly, I feel sorry for her, and I thank God every day that my parents taught me better than to judge anyone by the color of their skin.

I am representative of the South that few ever see, but those like me are many. You don't know about us because we aren't controversial. We just love people for who they are, and give from our hearts. We come from all religions, all races, and all parts of Southern society. The Paula Deens of the South do not represent us