At least twice I day I get polled by a passerby with the question, “Where are you from?”  The question isn’t based out of politeness, but instead a direct reaction to my thick, Southern accent.  I never encountered this before I moved to Raleigh, North Carolina- a cultural melting pot filled with Asians, African, Indians and, yes, the snow veterans that are Northerners.

I don’t get mad about the assumptions that in light of my obvious twang, I must be slightly remedial and, more likely than not, am without indoor plumbing; I get it.  I speak slower, I have a closet full of bizarre home-remedies and I can quote the movie Steel Magnolias by heart – unprompted.  To the outside world, Southerners appear to be odd, American aboriginals that live only in accordance to the Bible, Jack Daniels, and the lyrics to Boot-Scoot-Boogie.  So when we flee to…