I spent many years of my youth in the Mississippi delta. I’ve hoed and picked cotton. I’ve watched cotton gin workers warming up their sweet potatoes for lunch in a stream of hot cottonseed oil. I distinctly remember the smell of magnolia leaves mixed in the humid air with the almost acrid smell of pecans. I have trudged across ditches and flat fields after my grandfather and his white pointers—dogs—hunting quail on raw, cold mornings. Mississippi is haunted, not magical; molasses without the sweet; fertile without the promise. Mississippi is not a state: it is a condition of dichotomies, of hope and hopelessness.
Thanks for today’s article. Yes. Nothing changes in boggy ground, or marshy minds.
I just read one of Donna’s stories that you posted. The one about her mama. Stunningly written and so heartfelt. Thank you for mentioning her. Onto Mississippi…perhaps they should consider secession again.
I moved to MS when I was 14 and my dad was employed by Ole Miss to teach in the School of Education. I left MS when I was 21, to move to Texas with my husband. I have only returned to visit family there. I taught in the first Head Start program in Oxford and was one of three white teachers in an all Black county school, the year before Oxford officially integrated its public school system. When I left MS for TX (talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire), I vowed never to return because at that time, I thought it was the bottom of the barrel in almost all things and the racism was sickening. Over time, however, I've seen racism rear its despicable head everywhere and this past year brought to light how pervasive it was. The murder of George Floyd opened my eyes to a side of life that was far worse than I could even have imagined - based upon my short time witnessing it first hand in MS. I appreciate your making the case for MS not being the ONLY state with such an abysmal track record. Thank you. Maybe, once this pandemic has abated, I can visit my mother there in her nursing home.
I spent many years of my youth in the Mississippi delta. I’ve hoed and picked cotton. I’ve watched cotton gin workers warming up their sweet potatoes for lunch in a stream of hot cottonseed oil. I distinctly remember the smell of magnolia leaves mixed in the humid air with the almost acrid smell of pecans. I have trudged across ditches and flat fields after my grandfather and his white pointers—dogs—hunting quail on raw, cold mornings. Mississippi is haunted, not magical; molasses without the sweet; fertile without the promise. Mississippi is not a state: it is a condition of dichotomies, of hope and hopelessness.
Thanks for today’s article. Yes. Nothing changes in boggy ground, or marshy minds.
I just read one of Donna’s stories that you posted. The one about her mama. Stunningly written and so heartfelt. Thank you for mentioning her. Onto Mississippi…perhaps they should consider secession again.
I moved to MS when I was 14 and my dad was employed by Ole Miss to teach in the School of Education. I left MS when I was 21, to move to Texas with my husband. I have only returned to visit family there. I taught in the first Head Start program in Oxford and was one of three white teachers in an all Black county school, the year before Oxford officially integrated its public school system. When I left MS for TX (talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire), I vowed never to return because at that time, I thought it was the bottom of the barrel in almost all things and the racism was sickening. Over time, however, I've seen racism rear its despicable head everywhere and this past year brought to light how pervasive it was. The murder of George Floyd opened my eyes to a side of life that was far worse than I could even have imagined - based upon my short time witnessing it first hand in MS. I appreciate your making the case for MS not being the ONLY state with such an abysmal track record. Thank you. Maybe, once this pandemic has abated, I can visit my mother there in her nursing home.