Southern Women Terrify Me.

By Jillian Owens

 

“Can we talk?” she said with a buttermilk-thick accent and a molasses-sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes—closing my office door.

I don’t think this can possibly be good, but she’s smiling so I guess I’m supposed to smile too? I thought.

An upbraiding for expressing an artistic opinion on something (that I’m still absolutely right about) followed. As I was being admonished, I kept thinking, I have no idea what to do with my face right now. She’s still smiling. Should I be smiling? Should I be looking at her with grave seriousness? Should I be looking down?

Years of theatrical training are no match for situations like these. Stanislavski himself would be challenged in navigating a conversation with a southern woman. I’ve been living here for almost 20 years, and I still find myself scrambling when confronted with their odd brand of bless-your-heart-but-I’m-going-to-end-you passive aggression.

Years ago my car was in the shop and a sweet older coworker offered to give me a lift home. She was one of those kind, wholesome grandmotherly types…until she got behind the wheel. She giggled as she cut people off and then slammed on brakes to slow to a crawl in front of them, “Oh honey…you weren’t in a hurry were you? Now I’m gonna mess with you,” she taunted. As a result, I now fully believe that there are no bad drivers, only old southern ladies in disguise looking for quick thrills.

#NotAllSouthernWomen

You know who I’m talking about here, and of course I don’t mean every woman in the south. I’m referring to those who use the phrase, “Bless your heart!” on a weekly basis while simultaneously believing no one knows if they’re being catty. They’re usually fond of monogramming things (all the things), refer to their fathers as “Daddy” and their 20-something adult daughter as their “Baby Girl”. They wear pearls and they have big hair. They are the mean girls of the south. And I am afraid of them. Very afraid.

I’m blunt to the point of awkwardness. I believe in using corresponding facial expressions for corresponding emotions. My friends are all direct and to the point, and I love straight shooters. It’s just a more efficient way of communicating. I consider it to be more respectful. Or maybe I just lack the self-control to unravel a slow smile while I’m angry (which actually is pretty badass).

These women are formidable. If they form an alliance I truly believe they could take over the world. Empires would fall as dictators and their interpreters are no match for their killing-you-sweetly tactics. So, if you’re the type of woman I have described above and find yourself offended at this, just smile, clutch your pearls and say, “Well bless her heart!”

 

Jillian Owens is a writer, marketer, designer, and eco-fashion advocate. When she’s not gallivanting about, she’s busy refashioning ugly thrift store duds into fashionable frocks at ReFashionista.net or helping brands navigate the waters of Paid Search at PMX Agency, where she works as a manager of paid digital media. She’s very fond of cheese and her crazed dachshund, Douglas. Any comments, questions or crude remarks can be directed to [email protected].

 

 

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