Texas pride & prejudice
My daddy always asks, “Where did I go wrong?” while hanging his head to hide the smile on his face when I say something liberal to his more conservative way of thinking.
I tell him that it’s his fault.
In the ‘70s, my parents experimented with what today is called a self-sustaining lifestyle. Back in the day it was called “micro-farming.” We had cows and pigs and chickens and a smattering of other animals that we didn’t eat. We had a large back yard that was half-covered in vegetable plants (I don’t remember any chemicals being used.), a stocked pond and reclaimed lumber my dad would salvage by tearing down other folks’ decaying shacks and sheds for free in exchange for keeping the good wood. (Out of that he built me a full-human-sized, two-room playhouse and an awesome tree house for me and my brother.)
The smell of cow manure reminds me of my childhood. I miss walking through the fields of tall grass, watching the innumerable grasshoppers jump out in waves ahead of my footsteps. The enclosed back porch was a sleeping porch for me and my brother during the summers, and that tree house provided a perfect view of the setting summer sun. My brother and I were dragged out of bed in the middle of the night in August to see the peak of the meteor showers. Vacations were spent visiting and learning about Native American culture, Texas culture and the Wild West, and Ozark mountain culture, and their histories.
My history.
I’m a native-born Texan.
I’m Pagan and Witch.
My mother taught me domesticity – even if it wasn’t her forte – the basics of cooking and cleaning, along with socially acceptable behavior (though I rebelled against practicing said behavior at home).
My father taught me how to think for myself, change the oil in my car (although I don’t do this) and how to accept people the way they are, even if I don’t like them. (No one ever said I had to socialize with these folks. And I don’t.)
My parents taught me the value of land and family, of heritage and hospitality, respect and nobility.
Where did my dad go wrong (with tongue in cheek)? I think he went right.
As a child, the earth we tilled, the animals we raised and the virtues that were instilled in me are what made me what I am. I am domestic and a self-sustainer. Not because I live the same lifestyle as I did in my childhood, but because I choose to fight my own fights and respect those things of my childhood the way I was taught. I sustain myself and my family (being my son) by keeping food on the table, clothes on our backs, a vehicle to go places and a roof over our heads.
I am a Texas woman.
And I try to give my son the same lessons that were taught to me: Texas pride and respect for self and others, a love of Nature and the things She provides when we are in need. Earth values.
I am a Southern woman.
In 1994, I moved from my home in Texas. And being raised up proper, I’m proud to be from Texas. And it took me a long time to realize that while moving to and living in different states across the South, Southerners didn’t take quite the hankerin’ to my pride as I did.
During a 12-year stint in Albany, Ga., I’d had about enough of listening to folks talk about Texas as though it was a horrible place to visit – unfriendly folks, no sweet tea to order, jalapeños in everything. But that was the point, wasn’t it? They were visiting. And I unloaded – both barrels.
Just like any Texas kid, I was reared with the instillation of pride in my state, the way kids in Southern states are raised being proud of their Southern heritage or New Yorkers are proud of being New Yorkers, regardless of the 'burg. We were taught about Sam Houston and rodeos and “Texians” and how to make chili – ‘cause Texas Chili doesn’t have beans, y’all.
The folks I continued to encounter were of the belief that Texas isn’t part of the South. I beg to differ. There’s lots of similarities. And there’s lots of differences.
If you want to go somewhere and experience a culture closer to your own, visit the next town over. You want to bitch about the culture you’re visiting? Texas doesn’t give a shit if you’re there or not. You’re a visitor and can go home.
Texas is just as much a state of mind as being Southern is. Texas is part of the South, y’all. Each of us is from somewhere, and each of us lives somewhere. We find that pocket we love and put down those roots, tend to ‘em, love ‘em and bring ‘em up. But it’s sacrilege to deny where those first roots were planted.
Mine were planted in Texas, and I transplanted those to the Deep South, for some years.
And now, I'm back, living in the country that is Texas, the place I have always called home. Me, the prodigal Texan.
Yes, there are differences in culture. However, the same values, pride and love of land are here. So are the sunsets and hot summers, good food (Texas Chili notwithstanding) and good folk.
It is a respect of Nature, a respect for the individual and a respect for ancestry. I, too, am raising my son to think for himself, to respect those around him and his history, to revere the natural world and his spirituality. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I didn’t?
Now, it's time to kick up yer boots and praise Goddess there's a deep heart in Texas!
