Oddball

"So, where did y'all two migrate from?"

The friendly man behind the counter at the post office decided that we must be new in town before we even opened our mouths to speak. He was right. It was our third day in Selma, Alabama and we had already become accustomed to the stares of our new neighbors. Not that curious gazes are shocking or new for us...My boyfriend and I moved here from Madison, Wisconsin, a town that's almost 90% white (and if it ain't technically, it sure feels like it), where I expect white folks who have never seen cornrows, afros, or dreadlocks worn by flesh-and-blood black people to gawk at us. The stares in Selma, however, are more than a little unsettling. In Madison, we're usually the only African Americans in the room. Selma, on the other hand, is a southern town with a black majority - and we are both black southerners. So, why do we stand out like a couple of hookers in church?

The truth is, we've been Yankee-fied.

After six years in Madison, people down South think we're just plain weird. Here's a brief list of Yankee eccentricities that I've accepted in my life: I walk to work if the weather's nice. I share a plot in an organic community garden. I co-host a news show on a leftist community radio station that features stories on why Wal-Mart is evil. I wear my hair natural. I recycle.

That may not sound strange to some of the Yankees out there, but believe me, it's quite different from the life I led growing up in Houston. Yeah, I've always been a bit to the left where politics are concerned. I grew up in a household where JFK was unquestionably great and Clinton is as good as it's gonna get for now. But still, growing up in Texas meant that some folks called me liberal because I only considered homosexuality to be a minor sin - you know, like gossiping or wearing white after Labor Day. I changed. By the time I graduated from UT, I was an unabashed liberal, but once in Madison, I became what most folks back home would consider "radical." The nappy hair is the final touch.

I'm especially aware of my weirdness when I visit Houston after being away for awhile. Back home, I am the only woman around who doesn't sport a "perm." My 'fro draws so many stares and jeers that I started getting cornrows before making a visit. In Madison, ALL of my black girl friends wear their hair natural. Selma women also tend to straighten their hair, with the exception being a few of the hell-raising ladies at the National Voting Rights Museum and Institute, where I'll work for two months before returning to Madison. There, dreads and naturals aren't strange at all. There, I feel a little less like an oddball.

So, yeah, it pains me that my temporary community doesn't have a recycling program or that my hairstyle makes me quirky. But you know what? For lunch I feasted on a huge catfish sandwich with a side of fried okra for only $5. When I stroll down the street, perfect strangers shout greetings at me like we're old childhood friends. On the last day of February, I walked to work without a jacket. And, yesterday, I watched the sun set over the Alabama River in the same spot where civil rights activists marched for the right to vote 41 years ago.

Yep, I'm back down South and I don't wanna be anywhere else in the world.