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HawlSera@lemm.ee ⁨11⁩ ⁨months⁩ ago

It was a common thing when I lived there. I told people I had moved to New York and I kept getting spiels about how a North Carolina chick like me could never survive the big city… when given more context they calmed down.

I lived in Oneonta for a bit before Niskayuna. It had been temporary. I was only there to have my GRS done (am trans) went back home when the procedure was finally done

I was so glad to make the switch. I had so many people larping Southerners there, talking about how they’re “Just like the dude from Duck Dynasty” and how great my home state was because “Everyone down there is rich becauae liberals don’t make them pay taxes!”

It was certainly eye opening. I suddenly knew how a Native American feels when John Jackson over at the frathouse puts on a feathered headdress and starts talking about “Hunting buffalo for many moons” in his worst impression of whatever racist old Western he’s seen.

I think what made me hit the peak of this nonsense was when I was eating at a local diner where the owners were speaking in a (blatantly forced) Southern Accent one morning, and I asked if they served grits.

They looked at me as if I had just asked for them to kill and serve me their pet dog, even had some guy (one of their regulars, it was a small town) munching a bagel audibly voice his disgust that someone would actually ask for grits.

Ya know what we call people who eat bagels in North Carolina? Tourists

And I think anyone who’s seen My Cousin Vinny knows how much we Southern folk like our grits.

When I moved to Niskayuna the situation improved. Sure it looked less like my home town, but that was for the best… I’d rather have Real New Yorkers introducing me to the best pizza I’ve ever had in my life than Fake Southerners scolding me for wanting grits.

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