I am a woman of many thoughts. I have several blogs but this will cover a little bit of everything. Please be open minded when you enter my domain and be sure to input your thoughts and ideas, even if you don't agree. If we all agreed on everything, life would be pretty boring, wouldn't it?

Monday, February 16, 2009

Why I Love Red Necks

Hey folks,

So a couple of days ago, I posted a comment through my phone to my twitter, which in turn posted as my status on my facebook profile.

This is what the comment said:

"Jessica I love red necks. Too bad so many of them dont like black people."

I received a comment:

"Yep, because some of us call them rednecks, sis."


I'm not in the least bit racist. When I said red necks, I meant red necks. Like the people who say, I'm a red neck and damned proud of it. By the way, if you are reading this, please don't try to compare the term "red neck" with the word "Nigger"-

1. "red neck" hasn't been used for hundreds of years to keep down a race of people.
2. I've never heard a black person say "I'm proud to be a nigger" without trying to be funny or facitious.

Why do I love red necks? The are a lot of fun. Lemme tell you a story:

When I was a little girl, around 6 years old, I live in a trailer park in Columbia, South Carolina. I had a white baby sitter who had a trailer down the street from mine.

One day, I ended up going to her parents' house. I'm not sure why, maybe my mom was out of town, maybe it was a holiday and she was just bringing me along. Either way, I ended up spending the night over there.

The had a little girl there and she was so cool. I played dolls with her and we went out to play, we actually could go out and PLAY. My babysitter's parents lived in the middle of a wooded area. So when we went out to play, we could actually do things... like explore. That really excited me. I really didn't get out much as a little kid, so this was one of the more interesting experiences of my childhood.

So we explored the woods and planned out how we would make our club house and what we would put in it. She said we could make a bed out of leaves and logs and find soft things out to pad it with. I didn't really see how that could work, but I appreciated the idea. I wanted to saw things but the boys had the cutting tools and wouldn't let us use them... then again, I WAS only six. At the time I thought they were being sexist, but... I was pretty young.

However, I knew the parent's didn't like me. I was sure that they didn't when it came time for me to take a shower. All of a sudden, my baby sitter said they didn't have any wash cloths for me to use. Now, I may have been young, but I wasn't stupid. Everyone else had a wash cloth, and I had found out were they kept them. There were plenty of clean white towels and wash cloths in the hall closet, right next to the bath tub. I was handed a new bar of soap and was told to wash with my hands.

I'm sure they threw the soap away.

I love that dooood.... what's that dude's name? I don't know but he says "git 'er done" a lot. Its soo cute!

I'm saying all this to say that I had a hella lot of fun there anyway. I have a special spot in my heart for red necks. It's just too bad so many of them don't like black people.

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