I Grew Up in the South

A Story by glsnancy

A couple of paragraphs exploring my perception of race.

I grew up in the South, not the “deep” South; not Alabama, Mississippi, or Georgia. Not the under-educated South of Arkansas, the Virginias, Florida, Kentucky. Not the romantic south of the Carolinas or the wild, unique south of Texas. Not the semi-south of Maryland or Missouri.

I grew up in the South that was Nashville, Tennessee. I grew up in the “Athens of the South”; where in my mind, in MY mind, the dance between dark skin and light skin was being delicately and beautifully choreographed. My life has been played out in what may seem an alternate reality.

From my perspective, we had help. My Grandmother, her friends, the wives of her husband’s brothers, my mother, all had “help”. Only my grandmother had help every day, 365 days a year.

Marjorie Claire Negley Feldkircher was harsh taskmaster with a strong and delicate presentation. I have no idea why Rosetta stayed with my grandmother until she died, or why, her daughter, Barbara Ann, put up with us for as long as she did. In my alternative reality, there was love. Not much like, but love. The universal reality which has pierced the walls of my alternative, speaks to the lack of prospects of uneducated people, especially women, with a dark hue to their skin. But in my mind Rosetta, Barbara Ann, George Williams, Bishop Mary, Annie Mae Washington, D.C., Lenore, Mary, and Lucille are part of my family.