Don't Call Me Yankee!!

About 6 months ago, my family and I moved from Dayton, Ohio, to Lubbock, Texas, in order to take two new jobs to support our growing family. (Our then-current jobs were going to be down-sized due to the struggling economy back in Ohio). Though most people we've met in Lubbock have been friendly, a few of them have made the off-hand comment about us as "Yankees". For example, "Well, you know how those Yankees are..." snigger, snigger.


Most of the time I try to let the comment slide, but occasionally I will remind them, "You do know that I was born in Texas, and so was my eldest child, right?" Oh, uh...mumble, mumble...Change the subject.


One person in particular starting making derogatory comments about our "yankee-ness" whenever I made mention that we had come from Ohio most recently. He assumed, as most Southerners do, I suppose, that because I had lived in and loved a state north of the Mason-Dixon line, that I must be a hook, line, and sinker Northerner. A Yankee. Stuck up, cold and reserved. Uppity and detached from family. Frou, frou and therefore, not able to "hang" with the Southerners--Texans to be more specific.


Little did he know.


Though I did grow up in Dayton, Ohio, all of my relatives come from Eastern Tennessee and Virginia, deep in the hills of Appalachia. Country folk, good stock, salt of the earth people who stick with their own. Folks who grew up living on the land, singing country gospel hymns, and eating only the finest in Appalachian cuisine--beans and cornbread, shelly beans and hamhock, and apple butter stack cakes. Yum!


Life as a young child revolved around family gatherings, with all my great-aunts and uncles, cousins, and my grandma and papaw coming together around a buffet table full of yummy victuals ("vittles"), telling stories and singing songs.


Yes, Dayton is, technically located in the "north"...the midwest, to be precise; but few people know that Dayton, Ohio, is actually a heavily-Appalachian city. "Urban Appalachia" it has been called by some historians. Why?


Well, many folks, like my own relatives who lived up in the holler of the Appalachian mountains migrated to Ohio--to Dayton--to find jobs, mostly in the automobile industry. (FYI, all of my great-aunts and uncles, and many of their children, including my own mother and aunt, worked at Chrysler for some or most of their adult lives.)


They congregated in East Dayton, living and working, finding community with their other southern brothers and sisters. Though many remain in poverty in East Dayton, some, like many of my own relatives, were able, through hard work and thriftiness, to escape into the suburbs of Dayton--Beavercreek, Vandalia, and Kettering, where I grew up. In spite of their current residences, my extended family is and will remain fully Southern, be it through their twangy accents, deep-seated family values, or choice in food and music. They say you can take the person out of the South, but you can't take the South out of the person--well, especially if you're just moving over to a Southern enclave in the midwest!


Why the long family bio? Well, I guess it's a teaching lesson. Those who aren't familiar with the history of Dayton might find it interesting...uh...yeah, that's right.


Oh, alright, I fess up--it's mostly just my defense against people who dare to call my Yankee, my testimony against those who would convict me of being "one of those uppity northerners". I'm not a Yankee and I don't like being called one. That's because I know, as a southerner myself, as one who was born in Grand Prairie, Texas, grew up in urban Appalachia, went to college in Nashville, Tennessee (Go SEC!!!), and went to seminary in Austin, Texas, when you call someone a Yankee, it's not a complement--in fact, it's quite the opposite--"them's fightin' words"...


Well, so what if some ol' crotchety parishioner of mine or an uninformed (dare I even say, ignorant?) clergy colleague of mine makes an incorrect assumption about me due to an incomplete understanding of my personal history?? What does it matter? I know who I am, regardless of what others think they know about me, and that's all that ultimately matters, right?


Yes...and no. The truth is it matters to me because I'm tired of people putting me in a box, pigeon-holing me in whatever easy category they choose (often an incorrect one), relating to me only in terms of those labels or categories they've placed me in, and sometimes dismissing me outright because of our perceived differences.

And what a shame, too, because I think I have a lot to offer--as a friend, colleague, pastor, etc. Too bad that some will never know because they've never taken the opportunity to really get to know me.

So is this just crying over spilled milk? Is it pity-party time? Maybe a little...

But I think overall my experience of being labeled (and subsequently rejected because of incorrect preconceived notions about me) has taught me a very important lesson. People are more than the sum of their parts. They are more than their demographics or biographical data. They are more than where they grew up, currently reside, their careers, or even political parties. They have more to offer than their immediate data might reveal.

Sure, people might live into our preconceived notions about them, but shouldn't we give them a chance to prove us wrong? Shouldn't we stick around a little longer and ask a few more questions before we dismiss them?

Because if we don't, we might be missing out on another great friend, an ally, a teammate in life. And to do that would truly be a shame.

Now, I don't want to get all cliche, here, but a few memorable quotes are certainly worth repeating, I think: First, remember that you can't judge a book by its cover; second, you can never truly know a person unless you walk a mile in one's shoes.

Great advice, huh? It is if we are willing to truly live into it. I mean, it's only worthwhile if we are willing to look deeper into a person's life before we make our judgments, and if we are willing to be a part of a person's life long enough to get a real glimpse of who that person is. If we aren't, they these wise words do us no good.

It's like those who have faith, but no works. You can believe the hype, but it doesn't count for anything if you aren't willing to live it out in your words and actions in your daily life.


Maybe we can't do this with each and every individual we meet on the street, but we can certainly do as much with our co-workers, our neighbors, and members of our various community and religious organizations. To do anything other would be a real loss--to them and to us.

As for me, next time I feel like writing someone off completely with little to no real info about them, I'm going to think about how being called a Yankee--incorrectly!--made me feel. Maybe that will be enough to help me look past my prejudices and look for the real person beneath the mask of superficial information I learn when I first meet someone.

Maybe...