Monday, July 15, 2013


No, not the snack food, of which I'm a little too fond. The word "cracker" and the attempt to make it equivalent to the n-word (hell no, I'm not going to use that word).

Give. It. Up.

There is simply no way to make it equivalent. Cracker may be a pejorative in some cases but it doesn't have the history or weight of injustice that the n-word has and still has to this day. I can't even think of any time I've ever heard Cracker used outside of my grandparents' house and that was my Grandpa prompting me to call myself a Georgia Cracker.

This scene repeated countless times:
I'm sitting on Grandpa's lap, with strawberry blond hair in curls and big blue eyes wearing a t-shirt that says "My Granddaddy is a Shriner" and he asks me "Are you my Georgia Peach?" he'd ask me and I'd giggle and say "No! I'm a Georgia Cracker!"

If someone said it to me now, I'd probably just laugh. Somehow I fail to see the equivalency there.

No comments:

Post a Comment