My city is, apparently, white.

Last week, I had an interview for an internship. I think it did really well, but it did lead me back to something I wanted to talk about like 2 months ago after orientation. You know how at the end of an interview the interviewer always asks if you have questions? Well for once I actually had a few questions, and me being me, I had to ask where the company stood as far as diversity.

I had to ask this question because of orientation. I swear I’ll run out of orientation stories soon, but this one needs talking about. Either on the second or third day of orientation, a panel of local HR people came to speak with us about general hiring practices. Should have been awesome, right? It was. Until we got to how they recruited people to come to Greenville.

“Greenville,” said one of the panelists, arguably the most self-involved (seemingly), “is a great place for white families. It’s hard to get minorities to come here.”

Excuse me, sir, but what did you just say? I bet you thought you were safe because you were speaking to an almost homogenously white crowd and you probably didn't see me sitting in the back row. No. No no no no no how many times can I say n-o NO. This shall not be borne. And it wasn't. Up went my hand to ask a question, and something like this followed:

“Well, I’m from Greenville. I’ve spent most of my life here. This isn’t just a place that’s good for white people. If that’s how you feel about us, then how do you get minorities to come work for you?”

His answer? Essentially, he doesn’t. And that made me unreasonably angry.

What exactly about Greenville makes it so awesome for white folks that isn’t translatable to other people? In case you missed the memo, sir, we do the same things you do. We join wine clubs. We use groupon.  We travel. We shop designer labels. We use the freaking internet (does anyone else remember when white sociologists were making studies about how Black people use twitter? Because I do). We go to sporting events. We eat out—we even eat foreign food. We go get advanced degrees. And you know what? You can do all of that stuff IN GREENVILLE, and if for some reason you can’t find it here, Charlotte and Atlanta are only 2 hours away!

Greenville is my city. I love it here. We’re awesome. We have great schools, an awesome downtown, and nightlife. We’re the 4^th fastest growing city in the nation (or at least we were in 2010), and you mean to tell me you can’t find a way to market us to minorities? You mean to tell me that my city isn’t good for me? Have several seats. Get your life and have several seats.

Come to Greenville. We’re great for white families. We’re good for Black families. We’re good for Asian families. We’re good for—you get what I’m saying.

Come to Greenville. We’re great.

That Part of the Population

I had another post planned for today, but that’s just going to have to wait. Thank the guy that sat next to me in class today, because this is alllllll about him.

There are a number of reasons why I didn’t like Clemson. One of those reasons is that I don’t like the way that they (certain students and fans of the school) talk about other people. You can take “other people” to mean whatever you want—socioeconomic status, race, different fraternity/sorority; whatever. I still don’t like the way they talk.

Take the guy that sat next to me. He’s an older man, mid-to-late 40s; white guy, looks like he’ll probably vote for Mitt Romney (was that last part mean? My bad). While talking to the guy in front of me, he mentions one of his employees. This guy apparently has been working really hard, so he asked him to take a trip up to do some activity that they have in common on an upcoming weekend. Sounds like a cool dude, right? I thought so too.

Until he started talking about dude’s wife. Admittedly, the wife sounds a little cray-cray (jealous, possessive, etc.), but instead of saying, “That chick is cray-cray,” or, “She’s really controlling,” he says, “And then his redneck wife calls me[…] There’s always trouble out of that part of the population.”

To be honest, I was expecting him to call her a bitch. He didn’t, which is good because oh Lord I might have gotten kicked out of class. It could be argued that redneck is more acceptable than bitch because it’s like ghetto only without the Black connotation so it’s alright. But this bro, he didn’t mean the Larry the Cable Guy/Jeff Foxworthy type of redneck—you know, the kind it’s fun to laugh at on TV/in the mall/that you go to Wal-Mart after 10 o’clock at night or watch Honey Boo Boo to see. Judging by the way he said three words, he meant the kind that is gum underneath his shoe.

I know I already said she sounds insane. In all honesty I would avoid her at all costs (the description got worse after that). The problem here is that we’ve moved from talking about one individual to an entire group.

What exactly do you mean, that part of the population? Are you talking about the poor? Uneducated? The country, the simple-minded? People who drive Lexuses (Lexi?) instead of Acuras? What exactly is your criteria for “that part of the population?” Is there anything that may be on that list that’s not too shallow for a worm to drown in?

I didn’t think so.

The Uppity Northerner

I already know that at least one person is going to hate me for this post, but I’m going to do it anyway. Stacey, you know I love you.

If, like me, you were born-and-raised in the South and went to college here, you know at least one Uppity Northerner.

Y’all know what I’m talking about. The Uppity Northerner is that kid from anywhere further north than Richmond, Virginia or Kentucky that decided it’d be awesome to get out of New York City/Philadelphia/Boston/Newark/wherever and go to school “down there.” Once they got here, however, the South was no longer this mystical land alive with the sound of banjoes or whatever it is that they tell kids up North to make them curious about life below the Mason-Dixon (or a little lower than that, as we don’t really claim anyone from higher than Richmond). One day they just wake up and suddenly the South is hell on Earth: there’s nothing to do, our food is horrible, our accents are stupid, it’s too damn hot, and we move too slow.

Everyone knows an Uppity Northerner. If you don’t, chances are it’s you.

I was fortunate enough to only have to deal with two or three Uppity Northerners during undergrad, but of course I ran into one first thing during orientation. Orientation’s been a few weeks ago now, but because I’m so bourgie I never forget when people say ridiculous things that I know to be untrue. It just amuses me. Let’s take a few minutes to address some of few of my favorite Uppity Northerner claims that are so outrageously false I can’t help but to laugh at them.

“It’s been a real culture shock. I think I adjusted better to Spain than I’m adjusting to South Carolina.” It’s funny you should say that, because Spanish culture and Southern culture really aren’t all that different. We’re all outgoing, overly-friendly people that like to take naps in the middle of the day and eat lots of fried food and make our own liquor (probably in a bathtub). Sangria, anyone?

“My crazy racist neighbor—” That never leads to anything good (or true). Your neighbor is racist. Do not turn your crazy racist neighbor into all Southerners. Yes, there are racist Southerners, but I will point out that I experienced more racism in 2 months of living in Cincinatti than in 22 years of living in Greenville. This got to be funny after I realized that a lot of Northerners don’t think that they (or their neighbors) are capable of being racist for no other reason but that they’re from the North. Bless them.

“-scoff- You guys don’t have traffic.” In cities not the size of Detroit or New York City, complete stand stills do not happen. Just because it doesn’t take us 2 hours to go a block and a half does not mean we don’t have traffic. Any time I have to wait for a stop light to turn three times before I finally make it through, I am in traffic. This is funny because some people are just that petty. Why are we even arguing over this? It’s TRAFFIC.

“I moved here for the experience.” I mean, I guess that in a sense every new place you go is a new experience, but why do people always make us sound like Disneyland? If we are Disneyland, can I be a princess? I really want to be a princess.

“There are no [insert specific nationality] people here!” Yes there are. You’re just not looking hard enough. It’s diverse ‘round here. I always get a giggle out of this one because you see more diversity in Greenville in a day than I did in two months of living in Cincinatti. And Maryland. And Europe.

And last, but certainly not least, my absolute favorite:

“Do you know what [Southerners] say about the Civil War? They still call it The War of Northern Aggression.”

What? Is this a thing? Fellow Southerners, tell me: is this a thing? Twenty-two years I’ve lived in the South and never once have I heard “The War of Northern Aggression.” Know who I hear that from? Uppity Northerners telling other non-Southerners that actual Southerners still call it “The War of Northern Aggression.” If anything, it was The War of Southern Aggression. We are not as nice as we pretend to be.

Making fun of Uppity Northerners is really the only way I can keep from punching them in the face. Well, that and knowing lots of random facts that can refute most of the points they raise. Why can’t people just know what they’re talking about before they open their mouths? Is that too much to ask?

Don’t answer that.