Dixie Died Last Night

The Old Confederacy finally went down in flames. It did not go out with a bang or even with a whimper. It just sat down quietly and died. For those of us in the Deep South, particularly those of us raised here, last night was a monumental night. The world changed, tilted, and ended up topsy turvy. I am, of course, speaking of the election of Barack Obama as President. You see, no matter what side of the issue you are on, the election of a black man as President has rocked the South.

Virginia and Florida turned blue last night. North Carolina, Missouri and Georgia are too close to call at this point. Unprecedented numbers of minority and young voters turned out to vote yesterday. There was a sea of young and non-white faces at my polling station yesterday. It has long been said that this day would never come, that Dixie could never get over their prejudice to this extent. We still bear the scars of slavery, of segregation, of racial hatred and civil rights violations. The reminders are everywhere, from the Civil War battlefield markers to the ‘Colored’ signs that still hangs in some bus stations.

But last night, the Old Confederacy died. It cracked into a thousand pieces, courtesy of a charismatic black man from Hawaii. Oh, there will still be prejudice. And there will be a backlash from the white supremacists. But the tide has turned, and as the older generation dies off the younger will grow never knowing any different.

You should have seen the parties last night, both here and around the south. They took to the streets in Atlanta, Florida and other places. There was an impromptu rally in front of the White House itself. You could see the future there –a mixture of white, black, and brown faces that represented the future of this country. Then you could look at the Biltmore in Phoenix and see the past in the McCain crowd –a solid mass of well-to-do white people. Rather angry after the results came in, at that.

History was made last night. Dixie died, and the future was born.