My Confederate town
My Confederate town
Civil War-era politics still dominate Front Royal, Va. -- and I feel their hostility every time I walk out my door
BY JOSE PADUA
"Julien and I stood before the vendor’s table as the white-haired woman introduced me to the vendor, a slightly younger woman. “This is Jose Padua,” the white-haired woman said. “He’s a local poet.” Then she introduced the vendor to me saying, “This is Celia – she’s one of those organic farmers.” The entire time the white-haired woman tried to introduce us, Celia, the vendor, never once looked at me.
After a moment, she finally lifted her hand in greeting. I lifted my hand in turn and said, “Hello.” She wasn’t waving at me though, but at a woman on the grass outside the stall behind me. I was standing in front of her, yet the vendor hurried this other person in and started helping her. I remained there before Celia, the vendor, and she continued to blatantly – dare I say, even aggressively – ignore me. The white-haired lady turned silent. A puzzled, embarrassed look came over her face. I turned Julien’s stroller around and headed straight out of the farmer’s market.
This happens in one way or another any time I go out here in my town, with its vestiges of the old South. It’s why, sometimes, I choose not to go out. There are days when, in the evening, I realize all I’ve done is take Maggie to school and pick her up again; days when I realize that I haven’t really stepped out of the house and interacted with the community around me (which is what I’d do everyday without giving it a thought when I lived in the city). At the end of these days, I think, “Oh, maybe I should go out for a walk.” But so much of the time I don’t because it isn’t fun, it isn’t relaxing, and it isn’t worth the sick feeling I get—and have never gotten used to—even though I’ve felt it so many times. And, I refuse to get used to it."
http://www.salon.com/2013/10/27/why_do_confederate_flags_remind_me_of_home_partner/
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