Before I start, let me give some background information: I am a Yankee by birth but Southern by ancestry. I was raised in New York City, the belly of the beast. My family, mainly composed of English and Scotch-Irish settlers, landed in Virginia in the 1600s as soon as European settlers could come, then went down to the Carolinas, some went to Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, and even went as far as Arkansas. During the War of Northern Aggression, all of my ancestors eligible to serve fought in the Confederate States Army. My mother, brother and I are virtually the only Northerners in this line.
Anyways, growing up in New York City caused a huge cultural disconnect. In my house, we drank sweet tea, ate special Southern dinners, were deeply religious, always would return home to visit Southern relatives, and balancing this life with the more secular and liberal Northern population was hard for awhile. I felt my identity was often a grey area. I visited the graves of my Confederate ancestors as a young boy, my mother would expose me to Southern cultural staples, and my dad, even before he moved up here from South Carolina, had a deep Southern accent.
Throughout my childhood, I had to struggle with this negative perception of my Southern roots several times. My first contact with this clash of identities came when the Charleston church shooting happened. When I went back to school, students would make up rumors that I would do something similar because I told everyone I went to see my grandparents (who are from the very same town as Dylann Roof). At the time, I made it clear I was not comfortable with any type of violence or killing regardless of who did it. The second time was after Charlottesville happened because people decided to take a stand to defend the Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson monuments. I remember thinking it was the right thing to do, and despite the liberal controlled media, I knew deep down the pro-Lee demonstrators were right. Other students accused me of secretly being involved with people who were there, they charged slurs at me like “redneck,” “white supremacist,” “hick,” “KKK Grand Wizard,” “inbred,” and, of course, “racist.” The third time came during the George Floyd and Black Lives Matter riots. I was the only person in the city who kept a Confederate flag hanging in my room. A lot of people, including my neighbors, were uncomfortable coming over and seeing that. I responded to them, “I would not take it down because my ancestors fought under that flag, and I would do the same.”
These main three experiences, along with many others, helped shape me to embrace my Southern heritage. In school, I started to take a stand and defend Dixie and her legacy when she came under fire. I accepted whatever punishments and ostracization that came my way.
It was a transformation and an evolution for this Son of the South! It has been quite a journey and I was writing this to also mention that a Southern man can be displaced, born in a different location, but if he retains pride in his heritage, and keeps the desire to bring freedom to his people in a hostile world, then anything is possible.
Deo Vindice
-By Dixie Anon
O I’m a good old rebel, now that’s just what I am. For this “fair land of freedom” I do not care at all. I’m glad I fit against it, I only wish we’d won, And I don’t want no pardon for anything I done.
Take comfort in knowing that facing them down helped shaped you, make you stronger and prevented your decent into their cesspool of an identity. That flag in your room probably protected you as much as you protected it.