By Will Dabbs, MD
I grew up in the Mississippi Delta. This was ground zero for institutional racism back in the day. Our great nation once fought a war over that and a few other things. The stigmata of that hemoclysm are still there if you know where to look.
The murders of Emmitt Till in Drew, MLK in Memphis, and James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner in Neshoba County all took place right down the road. That was a bit before my time, but the Deep South, for all of its resplendent hospitality, does have such sordid stuff sprinkled throughout its source code. Regardless, there will never be another Emmitt Till-style killing in the American Deep South. I discovered that while out foraging for barbecue in nearby rural Alabama.
Proper Grub
Forget your high-priced swanky eateries in New York or Chicago, the finest food on Planet Earth spawns from greasy dives run by obese black women who have invested their lives raising babies. Those chicks can cook. Little about that is healthy or artistic, but I’d sooner chow down on southern BBQ out of a paper sack than anything that costs me a c-note in a big city and mandates that I wear a necktie.
One such Mom and Pop barbecue joint is located out in the middle of no place in rural Alabama. My brothers and I had been living off of stuff we cooked ourselves for a bit. It was time to call in the professionals.
The Setting
Now, imagine the scene. This is a family business. The daughter takes orders and operates the cash register. The son cleans up and does whatever needs doing. The cook is an enormous black man with an epic set of dreadlocks. These he keeps stuffed into a pillow case tied tightly around his head. His wife, the matriarch, runs everything. She is the Empress, the apex predator, the undisputed master of all she surveys.
I pushed into the place amongst a busy lunchtime crowd on a Saturday. This is the New South, and the clientele was thoroughly homogenous. Friends of all colors inquired after spouses, livestock, church, and pets. There was not a scrap of acrimony to be found anyplace—just a couple dozen Southerners from all walks patiently queued up to land some of the world’s finest pig flesh.
There was no hatred here. Nobody had to go to the back of anything. These were all just friends who celebrated communal victories and mourned each other’s tragedies. As I stood in the midst of all of that I pondered what exactly had changed. What quiet transformation took us from Emmitt Till to Big Mama’s Secret Sauce? That’s when I noticed it.
The Equalizer
The kitchen in this place is a continuum from the checkout counter to the back wall. As you wait in line to get your grub, you can see the big black man burning meat and slathering on BBQ sauce. The accoutrements of this holy undertaking were neatly arrayed around the space. Among the sundry pots, pans, and aprons was also a nicely-accessorized 9mm AR pistol hanging by its sling on a nail.
I have an eye for guns. This example sported some high-end tactical glass, a pistol stabilizing brace, and a 33-round extended Glock mag. There was a tactical light on the forend. Whoever built this thing knew what they were doing.
Deep Magic
That gun is the reason there will never again be a 14-year-old black kid murdered by a mob of racist white guys in my corner of the Deep South. If somebody showed up in that place looking for trouble, that enormous dude with the dreadlocks would expeditiously take care of business. If things got out of hand, every person in that restaurant, regardless of hue, would materialize packed and jacked ready to do their bit right sharpish.
Some folks think that gun is the problem. I respectfully disagree. That gun is the solution. That tricked-out 9mm AR pistol ensures that those unpleasant antiquated proclivities no longer see the light of day. The esteemed science fiction writer Robert Heinlein once opined that an armed society is a polite society. The American Deep South is the poster child.
If you live someplace else, we’d love to have you come visit. The food is great, the women breathtaking, and the hospitality divine. However, be nice and behave yourself. We don’t tolerate a great deal of foolishness down here.
