about that southern charm

I spent today about an hour and a half south of here in a town called Oxford, Mississippi. It is beautiful, has historic charm, a relaxed and genteel atmosphere, and a fantastic bookstore. Home to William Faulkner, and John Grisham (who also got his law degree here), Oxford is a town of 19,000, if you don't count the 60,000 that come to watch the NCAA football games. The games are played at the University of Mississippi, or Ole Miss as it is commonly and lovingly known. But as with many parts of the south, there is a complicated history here. In 1962, James Meredith became the first African-American student at Ole Miss. The governor of Mississippi, Ross Barnett, stood at the door of the university, and would not allow Meredith to pass. In the resulting riots, two people were killed, and Meredith had two federal marshalls with him 24 hours a day for the two years he attended the university. 

I struggle with that history and how it manifests itself today. I saw almost no one in Oxford that wasn't white, and Memphis is one of the most segregated places anywhere. I think about priviledge, entitlement and the Other, in relation to me and my work. My time here is part of that process.