I've been dubbed "Mississippi Rob" since I chose to join "Make Thursdays Great Again" back in December of '21. I like the moniker, but mainly due to how it's grounded me instantly within this hopelessness-saturated corner of the USA.
Silas 2.0 had small town Mississippi deeply entrenched in his persona. The best takeaway I received from him was in regard to sort of a vernacular kinship. A kinship which definitely declared that I too was just as deeply rooted, and there was nothing to be ashamed of therein.
I've been ruminating a lot recently on one of my high school friends and her family, all of which have long since vacated the Magnolia State for more hope-filled pastures. Beatrice and her clan had settled here from the west coast back in the late '70s / early '80s. Her father was an attorney who'd began his career in the Navy. With his brother (Beatrice's uncle) well established within the Jackson Metro, therein lay the motivation to plant themselves here (in order for him to practice law).
I befriended Beatrice and her best friend, Hoppy, out of need but also (unbeknownst to me at the time) pity. For neither of them had a chance in hell of thriving in Mississippi (& this extended too to Beatrice's entire family).
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Years ago, I urged our neighborhood homeowners' association board to contract with a local property management company. Upon doing so, the management company's assigned rep (to our 'hood) became fast friends with Rob. I vividly recall her telling me how she one day witnessed (unexpectedly) her next door neighbor packing up a moving truck in their driveway. After inquiring as to what was going on, they gleefully announced to her that "they'd had enough of Mississippi" and that "she could keep it!"
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On a similar note, once or twice a year we run into my oldest daughter's college roommate's folks whilst on campus (where she and their daughter are students). The last time this occurred, the dad (who's close to my age), slyly let me know that he was "counting down the months" relative to his retirement. A retirement that he "will gladly be taking outside of the state lines of Mississippi". From there, he concluded by telling me that I "can keep - all I want of - Mississippi".
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Circling back to my high school friend, Beatrice, and her clan, the tip off for me (as a teen) that they weren't "from here" came in the form of flooring material (of all things). The house they lived in was sprawling (for the '80s), and both the kitchen and breakfast room were tiled in a most stunningly beautiful material (Mexican tile) that was unlike anything I'd seen prior.
Another tip off relative to their "pariah-ness" had to do with her dad's choice of vehicle (which he'd handed down to Beatrice as her daily driver). I'd never seen too many one these in 1988.
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Beatrice had a funny way about her that Hoppy (again, her best friend) enjoyed attempting to guilt her about. Frankly, her aloofness served to mask this peculiarity pretty effectively. Hence, I likely wouldn't have taken note of it had it not been for Hoppy (who spent far more time with her than I did). And that was her refusal to acknowledge (the existence of) black people.
In other words, she lived here in Mississippi as a teen, but pretended like black people weren't here with her. And I suppose she picked this up from her parents / siblings. It was a peculiarity that made her seem exceedingly ditzy (almost to the point of ignorant fool). Now, for those of you who've no clue as to what the racial makeup of Mississippi is, know this: there're a boatload of black people here.
Beatrice lived this illusion out as follows: she maintained strict (private) protocols regarding where she traveled and whom she chose to interact with. Too, she refused to be entertained by black artists, no matter their popularity.
And now that I'm thinking through this, she too executed this approach regarding rednecks (country folk) as well.
By my observation, it was an insular experience that allowed her to maintain some semblance of comfort over her world (as she chose to see it). And I'm assuming it all was rooted in her inability / unwillingness to engage / process / confront the abject hopelessness that's so in-your-face relative to the majority of blacks / rednecks here within The Magnolia State. Hopelessness that's grounded in ignorance relative to so many rudimentary facets of the human existence.
Now, it's important that you do know that Beatrice's closest female friend during our high school days was Hispanic. But this Hispanic girl wasn't a Mississippian. Instead, she was an (lovely) exchange student who Beatrice met at our respective high school.
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In closing, having been reared here in Mississippi, I have a certain degree of emotional resilience towards the setting. And that resilience has not had the opportunity to diminish via me dropping anchor elsewhere - for even the shortest stint(s).
And it is emotional resilience / endurance that I'm describing. Not racism or feeling entitled. Instead, it's this integral understanding of pain that's pervasive enough to eventually make peace with (or else). Pain that you know isn't going away / slated to someday be (re)solved, therefore you choose instead to give it the respect it deserves in order to face it head on. Day after day after day.
My high school friends left Mississippi for a number of reasons, but I'm convinced their unspoken motive was one of unwillingness / inability to reckon with hopelessness. For to make a home here, you must face that giant, or choose instead to live an illusory existence that's nothing more than one massive emotional safety net.
It's overwhelmingly sad / a shock to your system to witness the hopelessness that's birthed out of ignorance (financial illiteracy / radical misunderstanding surrounding sexual reproduction, etc.). But if you yourself have "grown out of / sprung forth from" it besides (to one degree or another), there's a certain comfort level there that neuters it a bit. And this contrast can certainly humble those of us who can no doubt look left or right and see where we once were (with solid hope that future generations will do the same - no matter their race).
God bless Mississippi and "Mississippi Rob" (as funny as it is, beholden to this unique place).