As we drive through Savannah, I can’t wait to get out of the car and stroll along the sidewalks, where the rich history etched on stone and marble beckons. After soaking in the sights, we’re off to indulge at Paula Deen’s The Lady and Sons restaurant, craving something indulgent and flavorful, perhaps a fried green tomato that perfectly balances richness and tang.
While we wait at a stoplight, a car full of college guys pulls up alongside us. The driver gestures for me to roll down my window. Assuming a friendly Southern camaraderie, I oblige.
“Hey man! Do you really support Obama, the Yankees, and the Crimson Tide?” one of them asks.
“Absolutely!” I reply. “Funny how that works, right?”
They seem friendly enough, but before the conversation can deepen into a cultural clash, the light turns green. We move on, entering downtown Savannah, where the heat and humidity wrap around us like a heavy blanket.
Sometimes I forget what I display on my car. I hail from Bessemer, Alabama, a town of about 35,000 residents—not exactly small, but certainly limited in its horizons. My parents, wary of drawing attention, never adorned their cars with bumper stickers. It took Alabama clinching the national championship three times in five years during the early ‘60s for my dad—the biggest Alabama fan I know—to finally place a Crimson Tide tag on his Buick. They never backed George Wallace and were open about their views, but when I asked why they wouldn’t support his opponent with a sticker or sign, my dad replied, “Albert Brewer is a good man, but you never know how people will react if you draw too much attention.”
This might explain why I was seven when I discovered my father was Jewish, and why I had to request to join him at temple when I turned fifteen.
When I purchased my Honda Element in 2004—an unusual sunset hue my mother often jokes about, “You got yourself an Auburn-colored car”—I decided to shed my parents’ fears. I started with a Yankee emblem, reflecting the glory of Derek Jeter’s era. After Alabama hired Nick Saban, I proudly displayed several Crimson Tide stickers featuring their iconic red elephant mascot.
In 2008, I added my Obama sticker, bracing for some light-hearted teasing from friends. Living in South Carolina now, I’ve found my political views are met with more sophisticated opposition. One friend, a fellow Bama supporter, struggled to see my Obama sticker as “O Bama” as I suggested.
I’ve always lived in the South. I earned my undergraduate degree from a small Alabama college and later completed my master’s and PhD at the University of Tennessee. Now, I teach literature, Holocaust studies, Southern cinema, and creative writing at a small liberal arts college in rural South Carolina. Although the institution is Presbyterian, I was raised Methodist, later identifying with Judaism without officially converting. When hired, the college’s bylaws required faculty to be members of a Christian church.
“I think I’m still part of my mother’s church,” I told them.
“That works,” they responded.
Still, feeling only half-Jewish nagged at me. Over the past two decades, I campaigned to change the college’s policy, and six years ago, we succeeded—coincidentally, the same year Obama was inaugurated, the Yankees won their last World Series, and the Crimson Tide triumphed over Texas to secure their first national championship in 17 years under Saban’s leadership.
That year was a celebration! Today, I remain the same person I’ve always been—perhaps a little less Methodist, a touch less Jewish, but even more Southern than ever. My new appreciation for single-origin Bourbons, my subscription to Garden and Gun, and my latest companion, Max, a Dixie Dingo, all reflect my Southern roots. These unique dogs, indigenous to the region, arrived from Asia long ago, traversing the land bridge to Alaska, and are now found primarily along the South Carolina-Georgia border. Max started out looking white as a pup but has gradually turned to a charming yellow.
He’s a quirky mix—much like me.
In summary, embracing my multifaceted identity as a Jewish, liberal, Crimson Tide-loving Southerner has been a journey filled with personal discovery and cultural exploration. The South has shaped me, and my eclectic interests reflect a proud blend of my heritage.