Thursday, June 28, 2018
Are you out of your cotton-picking mind?
One of my coffee drinking buddies is a wizened little peanut of an old man who grew up on a farm near Union City, Tennessee at the north end of the Mississippi Delta.
They grew cotton.
I asked Frank, "What was the racial composition of the people who picked cotton? Was it just black people?"
After thinking a bit, he figured "Nope. It weren't all black people. It was about 50:50 white people and negros."
I pressed onward. "So you would not automatically assume that if somebody referred to 'cotton-pickin' that they were calling you a black person?"
"Nope." Frank said. "It just meant that your back hurt and you were sunburned and maybe just a little bit delusional because of dehydration, but there was nothing 'racial' about picking cotton."
And now you know.