Arkansas, From My Eyes

I have a love/hate relationship with my home state.

I love the fact I took my first breath one December Sunday afternoon in Conway; 
I hate knowing my final breath will likely come in the state. 

As a fourth-generation Arkansan (who's counting?), I know we have roots
even so, I am still made to a second-class citizen in my own land.

I love the togetherness of family can ensure I can achieve anything;
I hate this place for my experienced father in management to be subjected to "boy" and assorted racist taunts by my ignorant contemporaries
I despise it as the place my inspirational mother toiled as a domestic, a la The Help.

Here in Arkansas, I describe my home to out-of-staters that beauty is found in the beholder - and a two hour drive in any direction.

To understand Arkansas is to hail from here:
The same person who voted for Bill Clinton because he's from Hope is the same one who hid himself behind a white sheet a generation ago.
The same state where progress is a four-letter word and yet the natives (allegedly) claim not to be racist.
Where the flagship university - which sixty percent of the residents were not accepted as students - demands only white quarterbacks start to satisfy the rabid fan base (and one percenters who serve as trustees) run off legendary black coaches proving a black man has to be twice as good to earn half the respect.
He's gotta keep his mouth shut, too.

I love the innovations such as Wal-Mart and Tyson, but hate the state's leadership as the ultimate right-to-work state. 

I love that we are ahead of West Virginia and Mississippi in educational attainment, but hate how far behind we are Maryland, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Vermont.

I love that five dollars can still get me a nice fried catfish dinner, yet loathe the same five dollars are pushing me one bite closer to an earlier grave.

I love Arkansas for Acxiom and Alltel, am disgusted by Stephens and Dillard and Hussman

Bangin' in the 'Rock to Evening Shade

the Delta and its fertile soil to Northwest Arkansas and its business powerhouse

Al Green to Johnny Cash

the metamorphosis of my town Bryant from sundown status to a diversifying burg

remembering the Klan speaks loudly - and cowardly - from Harrison, Alpena, and those other villages

I reminiscence over the Twista CD shaking the hinges off that country church due west of Gould

as well as the bigoted signs outside Clinton, Marshall, Paragould, Greenwood, Vilonia, Mena, or Donaldson telling me not to stop, not even for a bathroom break.

I am not a supporter of how we are treated in the media.

Not all black people are thugs and entertainers, 
and the short-term feelings of pride from seeing a news personality who looks like me no longer suffices.

I hope Mark cleans THV 11 out.

The other two major TV are no better.
Ditto for the statewide paper. 

I loved Conway, as it is the City of Colleges.
I hated it for the dearth of professional opportunities - 
interviewers see color before qualifications, even in 2014.
As a result, I only come home to visit my parents.

I am enamored of knowing people intimately from all walks of life.
I am troubled by the small minds that populate this small state.

I am amazed by the brilliant minds of some,
but disheartened by their lives in servitude. 

Why are our best and brightest stocking shelves or shaking fries?

I love Arkansas for all she is.
I hate the bitch for all of the aforementioned reasons.