Accentless

It’s like the false posturing of the Chicken & Waffles shop downtown has seeped into my bones and built the goddamn hippest wall between me and my actual experience of anything. And as I take a bite of my gourmet food truck pimento cheese and fried green tomato biscuit, I am Eve biting into the apple: with this new self-awareness and over-analyzation of all things southern, there goes all the innocence I have left. There is no belongingness. It’s hard to say you are a thing and really believe it.

I am accentless.

My parents are both transplants to the area. All my friends and their parents are transplants to the area. I grew up in private schools full of doctor moms and dads from Massachusetts. The triangle itself is an island of education, wealth, and liberalism in an otherwise more traditional southern state. I had never been to a small town until I went away to the midwest for college. I didn’t grow up shooting guns, making fried chicken, wearing pearls, listening to country, being down-home, whatever, etc.

Even before hipsterism hoisted that sturdy and lovely and wild southern spirit up on the pedestal it now sits, I had already developed a sad striving to be some kind of picturesque little belle or farm girl or whatever real southern girls are. I’ve watched a lot of friends double down on their country-ness, digging pretty deep into their pockets for a history that isn’t really theirs. Our parents and grandparents didn’t give a fuck about obscure country music geniuses or pickling their own vegetables. They just did their thing.

Not to knock it. I get it.  I’m a living, breathing, contributing member of the millennial generation, too. We are all starved for something that is really private and personal, yet deep-rooted and historical, and it only gets worse as our self-awareness grows. We have the burden of contextualizing everything we see, do, and love into the vast web of cultural references we (or our friends ;)) are buzzfeeding and pinteresting every day.

We get so delighted by our regional differences because it reminds us that we are organic people, people of our environment, born and raised in a real world and not a confusing ethereal stew of ideas. We pray (with every single purchase and instagram pic) that we are not a transient, cultureless generation. And so, whenever I celebrate my grits or my ‘y’alls’ too much, reaching for some badge-of-honor real southerness, I know I’m really exposing my insecurities. What do I get to claim? What is real versus what is put upon? And when does my awareness start to erode what is real and make it a parody instead?

There are too many ideas.

When I think about what I am, I try to remember what is backed up by facts.

These things indisputable: every summer is unbearably hot and humid, the crickets outside sing you to sleep. People are kind (as they are in other places, too). I grew up with fruit trees and horses. It is of utmost importance to my mom that I am a good hostess. I ordered polynesian sauce at a McDonalds once (shout out Chik-fil-a!). We picked persimmons off the ground in kindergarten and ate them during recess. I spent high school playing six cup beer pong (not 10. Shit, those games are toooo long). We camped at bluegrass festivals in the woods.

I have a little collection of experiences. They can be pieces of data but they are not reference points for anything in particular. I remind myself that I can feel good or bad about it, but everything that has happened so far is real. I don’t want to have to hold on to things too tightly or enjoy them too much. The food parodies and the twine DIY projects from the internet are real. Line dancing to Copperhead Road with a drunk redneck is real. Going to bonfires and watching Honey Boo Boo is real. And so are the times where I’m just myself, uncaring about dichotomies and social context, immersed in what is in front of me, creating little happenings that are for me or for nothing.

 


 

This Other Southerner:

ka bio pic

Krista Anne Nordgren lives in Durham, NC and owns a little shop selling handmade goods in the heart of downtown. She also works for a startup. She loves making new things, whether they are businesses, blog posts, or silly dances.

New Models: North Carolina Women in Food

In 2015, every 5th Wednesday of the month we’ll be serving up a “Ways with Food” piece. Today, it comes to us via the New York Times and Kim Severson’s article, “The North Carolina Way: A Food Sisterhood Flourishes in North Carolina.”

It seems that all eyes are on NC at the moment, for reasons of both celebration and struggle. As a North Carolina native, it is important to me that writing, images, and portraits that honor and reflect the complexity of the state I call home.

In this piece, Severson amplifies some amazing women voices and makes some interesting points on why this unique women-powered food scene has emerged in North Carolina, including:

  • NC’s food ecology and economy
  • the role of creativity and inventiveness
  • the reshaping the identity of “Southern” food
  • the gender dynamics of the food world, and
  • shifts from competition to models of collaboration, connection, and community.

I am ALL ABOUT celebrating these women powerhouses. YES! AND ALSO this article also leaves me hanging. Food is connected to everything, so even when we’re talking about a high-end niche market (as this article is), we cannot pretend it doesn’t impact every part of the network. How can there be no discussion about race and class when we are talking about shifts in power, particularly those related to agriculture, land, food justice, and cultural traditions? Also, where is the voice of Mama Dip a black woman who put NC on the food map almost 40 years ago? Women who are cooking in NC have not emerged out of an empty void, they are walking in the footsteps of women like Mildred “Mama Dip” Cotton Council and many others! And I just have to say it – the rich food tradition and scene in NC is not dependent on NYC transplants.

That said, this article has me mulling how we can take some of the lesson’s that have emerged from this sphere, into broader conversations on social justice, alternative models for leadership, and collaborative economies. My big question is:

How can we take advantage of gaps and opportunities to invent more just models for our businesses, our economies, our communities, and our livelihoods? And how can we ensure that as these new models grow, they don’t fall into the old power dynamics?

Rather than write and article about an article, below are a few highlights. What are your thoughts? Please share!

– – – –

“They are not beleaguered by how they will move up through
the system because they are the ones who are inventing it.”

– Marcie Cohen Ferris, professor of Southern and food studies at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill and author of “The Edible South,” which chronicles in part the role of women and feminism in Southern food

“We definitely don’t adhere to any rules about what Southern food should look like,”

– Vivian Howard, chef and owner of the Chef and the Farmer – Kinston, NC

“There are more high-quality farmers per capita in these
50 square miles than maybe anywhere else but
Northern California. If you cook here,
you are automatically part of that network.”

Andrea Reusing, Lantern – Chapel Hill, NC

“As women have moved into positions of leadership and ownership, we began learning more about
community and how to take better care of
each other and our staff”

– Ashley Christensen, Poole’s Downtown Diner – Raleigh, NC

“This is an oddly progressive state that speaks of possibility.
We as women here embrace that naturally.”

– Eliza MacLean, Cane Creek Farm – Snow Camp, NC

“The women who cook there just own it, and they live so much better than us.”

– Alex Raij,  El Quinto Pino, Txikito & La Vara – New York, NY

– – –

Ways with Food is a place to stir up, marinate and serve up our questions, reflections  and stories about food.