"North Louisiana Has Parishes Too"
“Where you from? You don’t sound like you’re from ‘round here,” the man from South Louisiana with his swampy accent asked me.
I said in my country accent, “Swartz. Outside of Monroe.”
“Ah, you’re a Yankee,” he said to me.
I strutted past the man and said:
“Last time I checked, North Louisiana had parishes too. So exactly what makes you more Louisianan than me? Last time I checked, I ain’t no Yankee. We celebrate Mardi Gras, we have spirituality, we have family values, we have crawfish, we are integrated in some areas and segregated in others. We study French, we hunt, we love to cook, and love our trucks. We make up words and put the emphasis on the wrong syllables, just like you. And we love our children no matter what they grow up to be. So, Mr. South Louisiana, how ‘bout you respect me and I respect you.”
The man from South Louisiana was my ally, but right now, he wasn’t my friend. I couldn’t believe one of my own kind was hatin’ on me. I decided I was gonna act like this didn’t happen and focus on unity.
Besides, I was strutting so hard with North Louisiana pride that I completely forgot who I was talking to.