Oh Brother, Where Am I?
Southern Identity, the Great Depression, Populism, and a Coen Brothers Classic
We Southerners don’t have it easy. There’s a certain level of pride that emerges from being on the butt end of jokes. I grew up in Kentucky and Louisiana. I’ve heard it all. Hell, I’ve told them all, though that probably emerges as a defense mechanism. Kind of like how no one was allowed to pick on my brother but me.
The South has a regional peculiarity. Well, it’s probably best stated that the South has regional peculiarities, since western Kentucky and southern Louisiana are alike in little aside from the ways in which each aligned themselves during the War. Even religion is different. In Calloway County, Southern Baptists reign over the rest of the Protestants, while in St. Martin Parish, most folks are Catholic. Language and ancestry are different too. My ancestors hail from the area outside Manchester in England, while obviously Cajuns are descended from French-speaking refugees from Canada.
There are other parts of the South, too. There’s Gullah-speaking folks in the Carolinas, the Upper South of the Tennessee River Valley. Of course, there’s the Deep South of Georgia. Texas ain’t the South—it’s its own thing. Neither is Appalachia, meaning that J.D. Vance is not from two places, since he’s from Ohio and definitely not Appalachian and absolutely not Southern. But I digress.
Being in Florida now feels disconnected from the South. At times I am grateful for this. I ran from Kentucky as fast as I could once I was old enough. My hometown was far too small, too religious, too conservative for me. I always kind of felt guilty about it until my grandfather told me that always knew I would be the one who left. “You had to leave,” he said. “But home is always here.”
And he’s right. I don’t go back to Kentucky or Louisiana often. I'm more interested in other places. Instead, I bring it with me wherever I go. Usually people are amused- “why don’t you have an accent,” they often ask (I taught myself to speak without it starting in high school). At other times, it leads to a serious disconnect. I went to graduate school in Minnesota, which is about as southern as Texas (Texas has better barbecue but that’s only because the Swedes never discovered pulled pork). My predilection for saying words such as “Sir” or “ma’am” at times offended the locals, who were used to saying other words such as “uffda” and “skol.”1
And while I never focused on the history of the South in graduate school—I have yet to read any C. Van Woodward—I do enjoy befriending scholars who do talk about it. One of those is Christopher Hodson, an associate professor of history at Brigham Young University. BYU, of course, is located in Utah, which has better barbecue than Texas, Minnesota, or Kansas City, mostly because it is not located in Texas, Minnesota, or Kansas City.2 Chris wrote a terrific book a few years ago about the Acadian Diaspora that I’ll link below.3
I initially asked Chris if he’d be interested in a small film called Southern Comfort, in which a bunch of weekend warriors cross paths with some Cajuns and then mayhem ensues. 12 people saw it globally and I hoped he was one of the dozen. He was not. We discussed Robocop, though Chris believed the audience would never see Detroit as that peaceful.4 We ultimately settled on Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?
This turned out to be an awesome conversation. Chris had some real insights as to how the Great Depression played out in the Old South, populism, the KKK, and how we can use humor to address violence in the past. And of course, hair jellies. The pod is below and I hope you dig it.
And while you’re here, don’t forget to tune in this coming Sunday night at 8pm eastern on Netflix when Historians At The Movies livetweets The Sting. This film is a classic and I think the audience is in for a treat.
Thanks again for continuing to read and share this pod and grow this community we have built together.
These are apparently real words spoken by real people in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and other parts of Southern Canada.
I’m being told now that Minnesota and Wisconsin are actually part of the United States and not Canada, though the Canadians send their polite regards.
I am not paid to promote books but will accept barbecue so long as it is not from Kansas City. I don’t like ketchup that much. No one should.
Ok, I’m making this part up.
Thank you for the smile this morning. I’m thinking of moving from Tampa to Maine. Or perhaps Vermont, which I understand has the lowest number of christians per capita of any state. And regarding barbecue, North Carolina does it pretty well, but their “sauce” is abominable, unless you like vinegar. They even make “red slaw,” coleslaw with that awful vinegar sauce instead of Duke’s Mayonnaise. Red slaw is also abominable.
Late to comment, but .. I read the Acadian Diaspora based on a recommendation you made earlier and really enjoyed it. While volunteering with a local group recently, everyone was sharing about recent books they enjoyed (mostly novels) and when they asked me what I last read, I said The Acadian Diaspora! The room just deflated, they did not know what to make of that. Oh well, I tried to spread the word.