Treason

When I was twelve or so, a bit late I know,

I learned to ride a bike, and I remember

riding around my little town, wearing,

I think, a flat-topped cap with the Rebel

battle flag on it, thinking it was just

a southern thing, not connecting it

with racism or prejudice, but in my

tiny town, there was division, the

“quarters” where the African American

Families lived; elsewhere, where they didn’t.

I had no intentional preference:

the whites and the kids of color

were all my classmate, and we got on just fine,

even though now, in retrospect, I know

that the ‘60s, when I started, were times

of conflict, and the ‘70s, God only knows

what they were, and the 80s, when I 

graduated high school, started college,

learned about AIDS, and got a better

perspective on the minority perspective.

Full disclosure, I’m like everyone, 

I have my prejudices, not based on race,

but religion is trickier, and I admit I’ve

a lot of work to do on my bias

against people who aren’t the sharpest

knives in the drawer. And sometimes

I wonder how even a bear of little brain

could believe what many humans seem to

My point, I know I’m coming to it slowly,

Is this: I’m proud of my southern heritage—

I love the people, the climate, the culture,

But the South lost the war for a reason:

Its cause was not just—yeah, states’ rights

And all, but we know it was about the slaves.

And invading the U.S. capitol in the name

Of the Confederacy is attacking the U.S.

Government on behalf of a hostile foreign

Power. And that, my friends, is treason.

I hope they know, F and J passed over,

and the others, sill lving, that

I love them all, and that hug

I gave to someone’s mom

was sincere, not just a gesture.

Copyright 2021

T. Allen Culpepper