When we love, we are taught to love what is worthy, profound, and beautiful. We are to love what we are worth and more, never less. We love what others will love becuase loving what is not lovable says something very bad about us. We have deficits and brusies and bumps. We are bad when we love what is ugly or deformed in some way; thus we are that very thing we love and should be shunned.
I've never really been able to express why I love the South, and I suppose it is based on a feeling that I get here, one that shouldn't be expressed perhpas in urbane company. The South has a past and is currently very deformed, both literally (the oil spill) and metaphorically, the past of racism and slavery and all sorts of human rights abuses making it that ugly thing in the back of the closet. South Carolina, the state I visited this year, is rife will all sorts of sexual subplots, and, I read in the guidebook, one of the poorest states in the nation.
But my goodness it is beautiful, green and lush with air thick and full of heat. Charleston is likely one of the most beautiful cities I have ever visited. The water that surrounds it, the houses within it, the people who live there, the food the restaurants serve were all gorgeous. Folly Beach was tacky and wonderful. Nothing in my short stay reminded me of why I shouldn't love the South, except for the number of establishements abusing consonants, such as Kronic Cupboard (or whatever the heck it was).
Every year during my Southern trip, I wend through the countryside, go into small towns, meet people who stick with me. Each year I feel slightly appalled that I can forget a past to embrace fully a present. And yet, I do. Again and again. I hope I never stop.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org