“Bless your heart” “Y’all ain’t from around here, are you?” “Yankee”
My introduction to the south was by invocation of these phrases - except all strung together into one sentence. Drawn to the south by the space race of the early 60’s, I was but eight years old when my family arrived first in New Orleans, and then Huntsville.
Hardly the carpetbagger or scalawag, and a bit too young to have a political identity, I couldn’t quite capture the reasoning behind the vitriol with which we were “greeted”. Evntually I learned that thre was little to reason that was driving their attitudees.
My parents loved it - they were full and early adopters of the southern lifestyle - especially NO. They loved Mardi Gras and the NO nightlife.
I and my brothers and sisters, on the other hand, didn’t fare quite so successfully. shunned and ostracized by the locals, we grew to depend on each other. Being a newcomer is always an awkward experience - until you get established. The thing I learned about the south was that you NEVER get established. No matter what relationships you form, what alliances or allegiances you embrace, you are always an outsider; perpetually a Yankee (or, as one dimwit on Freerepublic repeats, a “Damn Yankee”).
There is one thing that I will always remember about my years in the south. I learned to fight. My first fight was about (no surprise) my Yankee status. At the time I was 11 and had lived in my neighborhood for three years. The issue that fueled the fight is lost to history, but what precipitated the actual blows was the boy shouting “Yankee!” and pouncing on me. I lost that one - I was totally unequipped and unprepared. But I got over it. And I learned to fight back.
By the time I left the south my tally was 11 & 1, with a firm commitment to never take any shiite from anyone ever again. I’ve read a lot about that famous “Southern hospitality”. I hope that one day I too can experience it...
A bunch of Germans show up in Huntsville at the end of a bitter war, and are able to fit in to the community. You yankees show up, and can’t fit in. Now, is the problem with the open and welcoming community, or the yankee kids with chips on their shoulders?
IMHO, Louisiana is kind of unique with regards to the insular nature of its families and communities. I suspect your being, "shunned and ostracized," was the result of being an oustider moreso than being a "Yankee." I've known families from Alabama or Mississippi who were generally treated the same way upon arrival in Louisiana.
As a very good friend / southerner once explained to me, "Do you want to know the difference between a 'Yankee' and a 'Damn Yankee?' The Yankees eventually go back home."