South Let’s go for a drive

Gabrielle Beechert Assistant managing e ditor

Whenever students discuss coming home for break, many talk about the things they crave. Usually it’s getting food, visiting a certain place or seeing a certain friend. When I am getting ready to go home, the thing I crave the most is going on a drive.

Going on drives has been fundamental to my hometown life ever since my junior year of high school. When my oldest friend got her driver’s license at the beginning of the school year, it became a big part of what my friends and I did together.

There was a certain thrill that came with texting each other to ask if anyone wanted to go for a drive, and then just being able to. This was, of course, after we made sure someone had access to a car and we were complying with the restrictions that new York places on newly licensed drivers (which we definitely did… most of the time).

sometimes, they were less of an event and more of something that just happened when we were in the car together. someone is about to get dropped off, but there’s a really good song playing? Let’s do a quick loop. We’re in the middle of a really good conversation and we want to keep chatting? We can go for a bit longer.

even though I am well out of high school, I still love a good drive when I go home.

These drives, however, are different. I still go on drives with my friends, but we’re not always home at the same time. now I can count on my siblings to come with me when I’m home. our driving together came to be when the three of us were searching for another activity to occupy our time during the summer of 2020. since then, our driving routine has been perfected, and it is one of my absolute favorite things to do when I go home.

Picture this: It’s my first full day back in rye for break. I walk downstairs after getting ready for the day. my older sister, Kaitlin, sits in the living room and asks me if I want to go for a drive. I nod and make my way into the family room where my younger brother, chris, plays War Thunder on his Ps4. I tell him we’re going for a drive. I don’t really ask him if he wants to come; I just assume he’s going to.

We go out to the car (I’m driving, much to my brother’s chagrin) and I start the music. I always ask my siblings if they have requests, but they normally tell me they don’t, leaving me with no option other than to play Taylor swift, harry styles and Phoebe bridgers the entire time.

We make our way to dunkin’ donuts to pick up our mobile order (one of the greatest things about having an older sister with a real job is that she pays for my coffee when I come home for break). Then, the real fun begins.

I thought about explaining the exact route we go on, but recounting street names or specific lefts and rights won’t do much other than garner some vague recognition from any readers who live in my area.

driving these roads are some of my most cherished moments. It started as the place where I asked my older sister questions about starting college, nervously awaiting the start of my first year at notre dame. now, it’s the place where I answer my younger brother’s questions as he’s finishing up his senior year of high school and making his own college decision.

It’s the place where my sister talks about her aspirations for the future and all the different places she hopes to visit in her 20s. It’s also the place where she asks if I’m going to visit her, wherever she ends up (of course I will).

It’s the place where my brother — an aspiring aerospace engineer — tells us about the plane flying over us or explains something he recently learned about rocket engines when we pass our county airport.

sometimes, it’s the place where we sing (scream?) along to Taylor swift at top volume.

one time, my dad asked if he could come on one of these drives with us because we seemed to love them so much. being in that car makes me so happy, so I’m always glad to share that feeling with someone else.

You can contact Gabrielle at gbeecher@nd.edu.

The views expressed in this Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

Ben Martin bridgend

Whether or not it is wholly acknowledged, identity plays an integral role in our interactions with both society and ourselves. seeking to ascribe definite messages to the intangible aspects of personhood and identity cannot be ignored; it must be reckoned with. however, the manner in which this internal and external recognition is accomplished is not simple. by definition alone, identity — combining social, emotional, cultural and biological understandings into one person — is complex! To mitigate this complexity, society has developed schemas — oftentimes using unfair stereotypes — to categorize individuals.

At this point, most of us should have learned that stereotypes are extremely harmful. stereotypes are used to marginalize both collective histories and cultures, as well as personal experiences, into one singularity, giving no room for people to differ from an unfounded paradigm. These notions are damaging, leading to misunderstandings and, at worst, motivated violence.

While not necessarily obvious, there is a troubling amount of anti-southern rhetoric both throughout America and on campus. As a resident of Louisiana, I have seen this continual perpetuation of negative stereotypes minimize the experience of marginalized groups in the south — people of color, women and people of lower socioeconomic status — and lead to further inequality for those that need protection.

before I begin, I ask you to pinpoint one word that comes to mind when thinking of the south. Got it? In a poll, I asked my non-southern, notre dame Instagram followers this very question in order to see their perspectives. The possibilities were endless, but somehow, a majority of the responses focused on the social or political aspects of the region, notably using the words “white,” “conservative” and “racist.” sure, there were a few opinions that underscored the “misunderstood” nature of the south, but the vast majority centered their opinions solely on the stereotypical southern composition. no responses had an overwhelmingly positive connotation.

Given the way media can diminish southern politics, the modern origins of these stereotypes are not surprising. regardless, the wide-reaching effects of these normalized, negative sentiments toward southerners can lead to a warped sense of self in a place so far from home. I hope my experiences here at notre dame may allow for a greater understanding of these detrimental consequences.

For reference, I have lived my entire life in the south, but I spent most of my childhood in moss bluff, Louisiana, a town known for its oil refineries, high school baseball and many, many hurricanes. Growing up with an ever-important emphasis on hospitality, there was internal pressure to stay within the community and raise your children the “right way” — whatever that means. considering there was minimal outside influence due to our relative rurality, there arose a sense of stagnation that enveloped my town, preventing new ideas from developing for fear of breaking comfortable norms. That’s not to say people did not try, but there was a nuanced fear of social ostracism. What you gained in community, you lost in the variability of thought. You gained camaraderie, but you lost yourself.

While I had a few experiences that shook my preconceived notions, such as the American e xchange Project, it was not until coming to notre dame that I received a truly global educational perspective. coming from a predominantly low-income public school in southwest Louisiana, I had never been exposed to so many new thought processes at once. It was like someone flipped a switch, enlightening me to a whole new world. Yet, this bursting of my metaphorical bubble was informative for negative reasons, as well. even though I was working as hard as possible, I could not manage to recreate the academic success that had come so naturally in high school. combining this with the subtle yet pointed jabs at my intelligence, I developed imposter syndrome so horrible that I completed a “separation from the University” form. These words — these harmful stereotypes — have concrete consequences. both on campus and beyond, this rhetoric affects everyone, but it has an overwhelming impact on marginalized groups, such as the 56% of black Americans that call the south home. In making stereotypical commentary on the state of southern affairs using dangerous rhetoric, marginalized groups — as well as those who seek to affect change — are pinned against baseless disparagements that do not allow for positive change, expectant only of a regression toward an imaginary mean. simply put, the southern identity has many attributes. Yes, it is warm, it is hospitable and we will, indeed, say “bless your heart.” however, even when considering its faults, the south is not a lost cause. I am not a lost cause.

Growing up in a culturally homogenous town, I had never received backlash for my upbringing, but I was now being called “uneducated” and “shockingly smart,” due to my southern speech patterns and sympathy for LsU football (even after brian Kelly). I knew there was privilege in attaining a private education, but it was drilled into me that hard work could surmount all obstacles. nonetheless, I was not aware that the education gap between myself and my peers at notre dame was uncharacteristically wide, due to Louisiana’s #48 ranking in public education.

While I acknowledge that my experience is extreme, I am not the only person to have encountered the negative effects of this stigmatizing rhetoric. In the same Instagram poll, people have been told that they “don’t act like they’re southern,” as well as been told that it is “unbelievable” for a southerner to attend a school like notre dame. but to be honest, it is somewhat unbelievable. coming from a state that is ranked #46 in health care, #47 in economy, #48 in opportunity, #2 in inequality and #1 in imprisonment rate per 100,000 people, I acknowledge my privilege and honestly, my luck to be here. I had to work against societal norms and inequalities to attend notre dame, but regardless of my origins, I — and other southern students — deserve respect and to exist on this campus without having stereotypical insults haphazardly hurled at us.

Ben Martin, residing in St. Edward’s Hall and hailing from Lake Charles, Louisiana, is a sophomore member of BridgeND studying political science, French and art history. As a Glynn Scholar and a Hesburgh Democracy Fellow, his research interests include autocratic influences in democratic backsliding and the relationship between art and politics.

BridgeND is a multi-partisan political club committed to bridging the partisan divide through respectful and productive discourse. It meets biweekly on Mondays at 7 p.m. in Duncan Student Center Meeting Room 1, South W106 to learn about and discuss current political issues and can be reached at bridgend@nd.edu or on Twitter @bridge_ND.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.