Exotic Mississippi

For the past few days I've met tons and tons of people from all over the world, and the same questions get asked. "Where are you from? What are you studying? When did you get into town?" I haven't met anyone else from Mississippi yet, and I feel special because so many of the other Americans come from the larger states everyone knows like New York and California. One girl even used the word "exotic" to describe Mississippi. I guess it's as exotic as I can get while still being an American. Of course, this distinction is not necessarily good. If anyone knows Mississippi, they generally know it because of the racism, ignorance, poverty, et cetera. For instance, I met a professor Sunday who told me about his experiences in the South during the Civil Rights Movement, and my students in France knew much about the racist South. I often reiterate the fact that I wasn't born until after segregation ended and that much has changed (and much still needs to change). Though I'm not proud of certain parts of Mississippi's history, I'm not ashamed to say I grew up and studied there. Hopefully, I can exemplify the New South as a Southern gentleman.

Americans often tell me, "You don't sound like you're from the Deep South. Did you grow up in Mississippi?" Yes. I lived my whole life there until I moved to France for a spell (and now for another spell in Scotland). Granted, I do say some word with slight drawl and make passionate use of "y'all" because it is the most beautiful word in the English language, but my accent is very mild compared to many others from the Deep South. When I worked at Starbucks in Clinton, MS, a customer asked me, "Where are you from because you're obviously not from around here?" "Uh... thirty miles away in Vicksburg." I've always assumed I developed my mild accent because neither of my parents grew up in the South. I like the mild accent because it sometimes shocks people and introduces me as a different kind of Mississippi boy.