I think South, which I love, and then I think racist, which I hate, and those two ideas are stuck together in this flag--forever. --Mary Elizabeth, Any Day Now come up to courthouse, and I see flag waving there. This flag ain't like one got at school. This one here ain't got but a handful of stars. One at school got a big pile of stars--one for every state. --James, in Ernest Gaines' Sky Is Gray When Pat Buchanan remarked several years ago that if there is room for We shall overcome in our country, then there is room for Confederate flag, I was struck again by obtuseness of his (and others') failure to see why flag flown by an army fighting to preserve slavery (albeit among issues) is offensive, not only to descendants of slaves but also to all who find institution reprehensible--like writer Reynolds Price, for example, who argues against, simply put, offending others: As a white native of Warren County, North Carolina, who was born only 68 years after end of Civil War and slavery; as a man who knew several elderly men and women who had been born slaves; and as great-grandson of at least one slaveowner, I can see no appropriate present use for any of several Confederate flags outside a museum or a serious historical film or dramatic reenactment that makes no attempt to defend rebel cause. Perhaps a few generations from now stain of which so appallingly blots entire Confederate enterprise, will have faded in its power to offend; but as direct descendant of many otherwise decent souls who supported awful machine of slavery and who defended their holdings against Union forces, I'd have to say that any present display of flag in situations than those named above seems to me a moral insult. (155) Around time that Buchanan and others began to defend Confederate flag against those who would have it taken down from state buildings (the mid-1990s), I found myself bringing up issue of flying Confederate flag when teaching Charles Waddell Chesnutt's conjure tale Po' Sandy. In Po' Sandy, Chesnutt illuminates clearly how a symbol of Old South--whether it be a kitchen built off of main house, as in Chesnutt's story, or a Confederate flag--cannot be separated from history of slavery and just represent romantic side of time period or southern pride. Not only should one not ignore not-so-romantic side of coin, reality of that other side reveals illusory nature of romance. As Louis Rubin writes, There is nothing sentimental or pathetic about heritage of Civil War. What it is is tragic--people, most of them ordinary, decent people, fighting hard and well for a cause that was basically wrong. Thank God it was lost (46). In her book Reconstructing Dixie: Race, Gender, and Nostalgia in Imagined South, Tara McPherson suggests that, while Americans seem to recognize the horrors of slavery, we remain unable to connect this past to romanticized history of plantation .... The brutalities of those periods remain dissociated from our representations of material site of those atrocities, plantation (3). Chesnutt's short story illustrates that romanticizing plantation home goes back at least as far as nineteenth century--indeed, for as long as romance writers have used Old South as a setting for their books and entertained readers with their sentimentalized portrayal of that place and time. Po' Sandy is second story in Chesnutt's The Conjure Woman (1899). The reader learns in first story, Goophered Grapevine, that John, white narrator of each story's frame, and Annie, his wife, have recently moved to North Carolina from North. Subtleties in Goophered Grapevine reveal that although move was ostensibly made for Annie's health, it also allows John to take advantage of cheap land and labor in post-Civil War South. …
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