"Cross them legs!"

I was born and raised in po-dunk Cleveland, MS in the Mississippi Delta. As most of us know, there are many in our area who still live by the "Southern Belle" persona. As a toddler I, at first, wasn't forced to abide by this image. I was free to express myself in my own house and be as strange as I wanted to be. I've seen embarrassing videos of myself running around the house naked and roaring like a dinosaur. For my 5th Christmas I remember asking Santa for all kinds of dinosaurs and animals. My blonde locks would dread from days of neglect. I wanted to be an animal so bad, that my great grandmother would make lion costumes for me that I would wear to the grocery store with my mother. Yep, as you can imagine I was quite the free-spirit... and had no friends in Elementary. Who would want to be friends with the girl who "roared" in your face?

However, as I aged I noticed that my great-grandmother stopped making me Dalmatian clothes, and began to knit me dresses with matching hats. I was extremely confused and as I would ask her why, she would simply explain that I was becoming a Southern lady now. She would constantly correct my posture, slapping my little bare legs in church while whispering into my curls "Cross them legs!".  In her presence I was afraid to be myself and was forced by my family to act like a lady. As soon as I was back home and out of her sight, my Mom would let me throw off my dress and stockings and get into my baggy T-shirt and shorts.

This didn't last for long with my mother either. As I hit my teenage years, my mother (a hairstylist) would fix my hair and makeup every day before I stepped foot out of the door. She would teach me how to do it myself and explained to me how important it was to always look presentable when in public. She would scold me for leaving the house in a T-shirt and no makeup. Eventually I began thinking this way without my mom's guidance. I still today feel like I need to always dress nice and do my hair and makeup to impress others around me. I know that if my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother saw me out and about not looking like a "belle", they would each take turns slapping at my knees and hissing to "Cross my legs".