The Confederate Flag from a Southern born/Northern Educated Girl

My Facebook has been evenly divided regarding controversy over the confederate flag. I see the same arguments posted over and over again: Arguments that the flag is about states rights and Southern pride and alternatively that the flag represents hatred and racism. My view is that both are correct. 

I had a really hard time in graduate school when I took my social psychology course. People in my class spoke of the South in such a negative way that I shut down completely and refused to even participate in the conversation. Someone spoke about attending a wedding in the South and leaving early because Dixieland Delight was played at the reception. They spoke about rednecks and uneducated people, and I could not understand how an educated group of people who are suppose to "appreciate diversity" could stereotype and judge an entire geographical region. The South to me represents a lot of things: fried chicken, sweet tea, church on Sunday, sun dresses, monogrammed bags, Southern football, overtly friendly strangers, pickup trucks, hay fields, and playing in the creek. I value all this Southern stuff without having a symbol to represent it, but I know a lot of people think about the confederate flag this way without intending to support racism. That intention, however, doesn't really matter - the result is the same - that flag represents hurt to many people.

My mentor, Dr. Cook-Cottone used an analogy of her daughter spilling milk as a young child to discuss discrimination issues. She discussed telling her daughter "I know you aren't spilling your milk on purpose, but you aren't being careful either and the result is the same." Little children do not intentionally mean to make a mess. They aren't horrible children, and they may argue that they don't mean to upset mommy by spilling milk - but the result is the same. 

I used this to let go of my own defensiveness about what Southern songs or symbols may represent to me. It does not matter that these symbols and songs are not connected to hate in my heart. These songs and symbols do hurt others, and I can have empathy for the experiences of others. 

I see the Christian, conservatives adamantly arguing their points, but as a Christian - I think we are taught love thy neighbor as thyself. I don't want to be hurt, and I don't want to hurt others. This provides a lot of clarity for me as to where I stand on this issue. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Transforming Political Challenges into Purpose - (Conflict is not always bad)

 My Personal Statement for Duke Divinity Masters Program - Due Date November 1st! I grew up in a small Baptist church in rural North Georgia, where Sundays were a blend of potluck casseroles and occasional Sunday School lectures on how my goals of pursuing a career instead of mothering seemed “selfish.” Similar to how my opinion on mothering changed, my spirituality also evolved over the years. I learned early how sometimes our struggles in life become the milestones that shape our journey. One of my earliest spiritual memories is of sitting in the church fellowship hall, watching a video series based on Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life. At the time, I was an adolescent struggling with depression and disordered eating. Twenty years ago, the stigma of mental health issues was much more pronounced, and I interpreted my issues as moral failings: evidence that I was not praying hard enough, believing deeply enough, or living righteously enough. In that context, Warren’s message—t...
Read more

My Daughter’s thoughts on the divorce and reunification

Image
 Hadleigh said, “I’m like you, mom, because I like to write. The difference is that you write when you’re happy, and I write when I’m sad…” Hadleigh (age 12) wrote the following: The Quilt (about the divorce) and How They Patched It (about reunification) ~ The quilt   By Hadleigh Pileski    I felt sad, upset, betrayed, and more than anything confused. My heart was about to burst out of my chest. My jaw was going to fall off my face. I had nothing to say, and even if I did, I had no way of explaining what a terrible nightmare I was in. At that moment, it was as if I could feel every grain of wood on the bench I was sitting on, or I could recite each name of spice from the floating aroma coming from the kitchen, yet I could still hear the leaves turning at the site of fall. Somehow, with just a few words the world found a key to open a door to put all of its weight  on my shoulders, and I couldn't seem to get it off.     One hour earlier,...
Read more

The Washing Machine Years

Image
My last blog post was back in 2020. I think that speaks to the impact of COVID and the aftermath of everything else that resulted. Since 2020, it’s felt like I’ve been on the wash cycle and unable to come up for air, but I told my partner (my ex-husband) that I’ll know I am “better” when I start writing again. Maybe it can also give me some clarity about what exactly happened in my life that I’m still struggling to understand. COVID, first off, made us all feel like the world as we knew it was changing and uncertain. Two of my family members died by suicide that year, and I recognized that I was probably entering the hormonal phase of perimenopause. In an effort to find some degree of control in my life, I set out to open a non-profit mental health clinic. My caseload was too extensive for me to handle alone, and I wanted to do more for the county to expand mental health services and prevent other families from experiencing the loss of loved ones due to untreated depression.  For...
Read more