And Divided We Fall

I live in a place that has changed dramatically over the past ten years. 

I grew up in a small town, and while I know I see it through the rose colored glasses of a white woman who grew up in the middle class, it always seemed to be the kind of place you see on television. Don’t just take it from me, you can look it up. Google: Friendliest small town according to Rand McNally. 

My town is charming and picturesque. We are less than a half day’s drive from larger more well known cities like St Louis and Nashville. We are a midpoint between the north and south, a place the Indigenous called “Fair Land of Tomorrow”.

I love my home for its topography and its many natural escapes. 

I have literally bled into the ground here many times. 

It is as much a part of me as anything. 

I never moved away. For a hundred different reasons but the main one was that I have always loved Kentucky. The land here is beautiful and while I have not traveled far I have yet to feel the connection that I feel when I am here. 

I love the rivers, the creeks, and the lakes. I love the woods and all the creatures that dwell within.  When I’m here, in these small Kentucky woods I call home, my body naturally relaxes. 

The people here, though many do I love, are for a large part seemingly allergic to change or evolution. Just those two words may necessitate trigger warnings.

Home

My home is rich in natural beauty, but it’s becoming a place where certain members of society have adopted a “if you’re not with me you’re against me” mentality. 

They have gaslit themselves into believing they are somehow both victor and victim of a world which has changed so fast they no longer understand it. They truly believe the world (or anyone different from them) is out to get them, but are always quick to espouse that the world is messing with a loaded gun. 

And believe me they are ready for (and some desperately hoping for) the opportunity to fire first and (maybe) ask questions later. 

I know, now as an adult, that this small country town which touches not only the bible belt but the south and the midwest too, has always been this way underneath. 

Racism hidden in whispers and in barely concealed jokes. Fears and suspicions based on ignorant untruths passed down like rare fine china or in my family’s case, really good tupperware. 

Things I didn’t understand as a child are things I can not unsee now. 

Whatever prejudices and ignorant beliefs once hidden away are of recent years flaunted in the open. The “jokes”, which is the defense whenever any of this is called out, are loud and proud. If you don’t find them funny it just means there’s something wrong with you. 

Waving the flag of Trump, even here in a red state which voted overwhelmingly for him, is treated as some brave patriotic act amongst their own ilk. 

Lines in this town are being drawn, as I’m sure they are being drawn in towns across the country. I haven’t seen the pitchforks and torches yet but I wonder if they aren’t far behind. 

Not If, but when. 

Growing up in a small baptist church in this area I know from personal experience that this sort of imagined attack that MAGA Christians claim to be under (while they attack anything that they don’t agree with) is something that they have been preparing for for a long time. 

Persecution is something that many christians (especially those who practice American Christianity) have been told that they will one day experience. It’s something that every single church that I have ever attended has preached about and prepared for at great length. (*I have not attended every church in America so I can not speak to all)

Many christians have all been told that they WILL be persecuted. 

This lesson is preached to the point that for many it probably feels like a right of passage. Some test to prove their faith that they must go through in order to get the heaven VIP pass.

I remember a particular lesson during Junior Church (middle school) which made it seem as though to not be persecuted meant that we (myself included as a former christian) weren’t practicing our christianity right or openly enough. So persecution for many is seen as a badge of being a good christian, of doing it right. 

The death of Charlie Kirk has emboldened many who were quiet and reserved before. They proudly claim his message as their own. For others who were already loud, angry, and on the offensive it has only given them a new litmus test. They see anyone who doesn’t agree with Kirk’s views, or doesn’t see Kirk as a martyr, as the enemy. We are “of Satan” as one person in my community (a member of The Friendliest Town in America) posted. on social media. 

I do not think that anyone deserves to be murdered (though I feel a small group might be up for debate, i.e., pedophiles, rapists, etc.). But it has been hard to find, as the video clips of Kirk come pouring in, making him more popular in death than he was in life, anything I agree with him on. 

I can say that his killing was terrible and horrific but that I was not a follower or fan of Charlie Kirk. I’m still not. If that makes me “of Satan” then I guess I’m just going to have to deal with that. 

Boiling Points

If you googled my small town and discovered its name you might have also stumbled upon a current town issue involving a confederate statue. 

Robert E. Lee, in statue form donated by the United Daughters of the confederacy, stands on our court square. 

He faces the direction of what longtime (white)members of this community have condescendingly referred to as “Browntown”. It is the section of town that has been predominately segregated even after segregation was abolished. I’m told that it’s a coincidence, that a member of the bank who donated to the statue wanted it to face the bank or another building on the northeast corner. But it doesn’t face the bank, which has long been an empty building or the other building which fell away years ago. It faces the part of town where people of color have lived for decades, coincidentally where the jail is also located. 

A movement began a few years back, as other confederate statues across the country were being pulled down or moved, to move old Robert somewhere else. The older, white members of the community came out in droves, many open carrying, to “protect” the long dead General’s solid form. 

“History!” They cried as a defense.

There was a parade. There was scuffling and a court case. There was news coverage as far as Paris (The one in France, not Tennessee).

The statue still stands though. It still greets people coming up into that picturesque court square from the east. There have been a dozen different excuses as to why, but the issue painted clearly the picture that this small town may look friendly on the outside but has something darker boiling up from underneath. 

A lot of people who reside on the same side I fall on this divide (that we should just move the damn statue) have discussed moving away. Some already have. Farther north, farther west.

The idea of leaving my home, the only one I have ever known makes me feel both sad and angry. It’s easy to see why people have battled and fought so hard for land and the idea of home for so many centuries. The fact remains though, that even if I wanted to, I don’t have the money to leave.

I don’t know what’s going to happen over the next few years. I know that as the military moves into cities and ICE waits in dark vehicles on corners in places where so many people thought they were safe, change is already begun.

But if what has happened in my own town is a lesson of anything it is that this change has been coming for a long time. This divide, these lines drawn in the sand, have always existed. Those of us who have always had a shield of privilege, from either our skin or our economic placement are just seeing them for the first time.

So the question is now what are we going to do about it?