Proudly Southern, Proudly American
I am a proud Southern white man, raised in the segregated South—a place where men were expected to be Clark Gable-handsome and women strong like Vivien Leigh, kind like Olivia de Havilland. As a child, I was told stories about the “heroic” Confederate generals like Robert E. Lee and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. My family referred to the Civil War simply as “that late unpleasantness.”
When I was six or seven, my grandmother bought me a Confederate cap at Stone Mountain. I wore it proudly until the wind swept it away on a train ride. I cried. I didn’t fully understand the symbol then—but it meant something to me at the time.
Symbols of the South: Then and Now
My uncle, a car enthusiast, once displayed a front tag with a cartoon Confederate soldier and the slogan “Forget Hell!” He eventually removed it—voluntarily—after working with two Black coworkers. He said the tag made him feel uncomfortable around them. That moment stuck with me.
Today, I still don’t understand the fascination some Southerners have with the Confederate battle flag—a symbol that fought against the very flag I pledge allegiance to: the stars and stripes. Friends who claim they fly it to honor their ancestors often don’t realize that the flag they celebrate was designed for one purpose: to go into battle against the United States.
Debunking the Myth of the Battle Flag
The widely recognized Confederate flag is not even the Confederacy’s official national flag. It was a battle flag, used by the Army of Northern Virginia. Its design—a red field with a blue cross and white stars—was created because other Confederate flags too closely resembled surrender flags.
This flag wasn’t enshrined in Georgia’s state flag until 1956—as a direct response to the Supreme Court’s ruling in Brown v. Board of Education. It was an act of resistance against desegregation. That’s not heritage; that’s racism.
The Lost Cause and Its Lingering Damage
The myth of the “Lost Cause” still lingers—romanticizing the Confederacy as noble rather than admitting it was a rebellion to preserve slavery, religious intolerance, and male supremacy. According to one source, there are 174 public spaces in Georgia alone dedicated to the Confederacy. Meanwhile, statues of World War I, II, Korea, or Vietnam soldiers are few and far between.
I love history. I’ve read extensively about Lee and Jackson. But I’ve also read about real Southern rebels like Rosa Parks, whose courage and moral strength inspire me far more than any general.
Honoring History Without Glorifying Hate
I don’t believe in erasing Stone Mountain’s carvings—but I do believe we should balance them with tributes to Martin Luther King Jr. and Harriet Tubman. The last time I visited, I saw a laser show where Elvis sang a mix of “Dixie” and “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” The states came together as one, united in “America the Beautiful.” That’s the South I want to live in.
A Flag That Belongs in a Museum
To those who think the Confederate flag is about heritage: I agree—it is. But it’s a heritage of hate. Even General Lee, in surrender, advised Southerners to lay down their banners and go home. Flying the Confederate battle flag today is to continue fighting against unity.
One of Lee’s descendants has publicly denounced the flag. My own grandfather, a self-proclaimed “unrepentant rebel,” never flew it—though he had plenty of prejudices. He still flew the American flag on his truck.
Looking Ahead, Not Back
When I saw the Confederate flag waved alongside Nazi flags in Charlottesville, I felt deep discomfort. I remembered my uncle, who quietly took down his car tag, understanding that some symbols hurt more than they honor.
That flag is part of our past, yes. But it belongs in a museum, not in the streets of Charlottesville or along Peachtree Street. As a Southern white man, I’ve learned we should be proud of what we’ve accomplished together—not dwell on a fabricated past.
The Lost Cause truly is a lost cause. The future is brighter when we look forward—together.