As we drive into Savannah, I can’t help but feel excited about the history that awaits us on the sidewalks, with their elegant stone and marble facades echoing the names of yesteryear. Once we uncover these treasures, our next stop is Paula Deen’s The Lady and Sons, where I plan to indulge in something rich and decadent—perhaps a fried green tomato with a tangy filling.
While we wait at a traffic light, a car full of college guys pulls up next to us. One of them gestures for me to roll down the window. Assuming we’re all friendly in the South, I oblige.
“Hey, dude. Are you really a fan of Obama, the Yankees, and the Crimson Tide?” he asks with a smirk.
“Absolutely,” I reply, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.
They seem friendly enough, but before we can dive deeper into our contrasting views, the light turns green, and we move on into downtown Savannah, where the heat and humidity quickly drain our energy.
Sometimes, I forget the stickers I’ve plastered on my car. I hail from a small town: Birmingham, Alabama, which, while considered midsize with about 35,000 residents, felt small in terms of opportunities and perspectives. My parents were cautious about what they displayed. It took my father—an avid Alabama football fan—decades to finally put a Crimson Tide tag on his Buick, and they never supported George Wallace, openly discussing their stance with friends. When I questioned why they didn’t back Wallace’s opponent, my father cautioned, “You never know how people might react if you draw attention to yourself.”
This might explain why I didn’t discover my father was Jewish until I was seven, or why I wasn’t invited to temple until I asked at 15.
When I purchased my Honda Element in 2004, an unusual sunset-orange hue (which my mother often jokes is “Auburn-colored,” referring to Alabama’s rival), I decided to shed my parents’ apprehensions. I added a Yankees emblem during Derek Jeter’s prime, followed by Crimson Tide stickers as Alabama hired Nick Saban. In 2008, I proudly slapped an Obama sticker on my car, enduring some lighthearted teasing from friends. Now living in South Carolina, I find my political opposition more cosmopolitan. I jokingly asked a friend who took my support for Obama hardest to think of it as “O Bama,” but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
I’ve only ever lived in the South: I completed my undergraduate studies in Alabama, followed by a master’s and PhD at the University of Tennessee. I now teach literature, Holocaust studies, Southern film, and creative writing at a quaint liberal arts college in rural South Carolina. The college is Presbyterian, and although I was raised Methodist, I later embraced Judaism without an official conversion. When hired, the college asked for proof of my Christian affiliation.
“I think I’m still a member of my mom’s church,” I told them.
“That’s good enough,” they replied.
Yet, I couldn’t settle for that half-Jewish identity. Over the years, I fought to change the college’s policies, and six years ago, we finally succeeded—the same year Obama took office, the Yankees won their last World Series, and the Crimson Tide reclaimed the national championship after 17 years, their first under Saban.
That year was a joyous celebration for me. Today, I still embrace all the aspects of my identity. While I may be a little less Methodist and a bit less Jewish, I’ve grown even more Southern, indulging in single-origin Bourbons, subscribing to Garden and Gun, and doting on my new dog, a Dixie Dingo named Max. These unique dogs, the only non-European indigenous breed in America, made their way to the South from Asia along an ancient land bridge. They typically start off looking white as puppies, but fade to a golden hue as they mature.
Max is a quirky mix, just like me.
This article reflects my journey, embracing my many identities and celebrating the rich tapestry of Southern life. If you’re curious about home insemination, you can find more information on our other blog posts, including those at intracervicalinsemination.com. For authoritative guidance on this topic, check out Make a Mom. And for an excellent resource on pregnancy and fertility, visit Medical News Today.
In summary, I’m a proud Southern Jew who blends tradition with modernity, navigating the complexities of identity while savoring life’s unique flavors.