Well, We Are Trying That in a Small Town
New murals in Morganton provoke a negative response reminiscent of rhetoric found in a polarizing, anti-justice country song.
MORGANTON, North Carolina—It’s only been a few weeks since three new murals went up in town dedicated to essential workers, Southeast Asian Americans, and African Americans in our local community.
While many have lauded the public commemoration, it appears a few residents have had more mixed reactions. At least on Facebook, according to Anna Wilson, a Glen Alpine native who has been working at UNC Health Blue Ridge since 2005.
That negative response holds echoes eerily similar to a popular but alienating country song and its racialized imagery.
Is Morganton Losing Its Small Hometown Feeling?
In an opinion piece published in the April 2nd edition of The Paper, our beloved county newspaper, Wilson refers to a recent Facebook post in which somebody asked: “Does anyone else feel that Morganton is losing the small hometown feeling with all the pictures on buildings and metal pieces [likely a reference to the three public art pieces recently installed] around town?”
Wilson replied to the comment, “No. I love all the artwork,” although she expressed an urge to curse in frustration, instead.
She notes another individual responded to the original post saying “No. That’s such an insignificant mark. We lose our small, hometown feeling when we fail to care for our neighbors. When we stop sharing the basic needs of life. Pictures have nothing to do with our character. How does art take away from anything?”
Most of Wilson’s opinion piece is spent defending the Essential Workers Mural, highlighted by snippets from an interview she conducted with Carol Ervin Largent, a friend and longtime nurse at the hospital who is also represented in the Essential Workers Mural adorning a building face at the Industrial Commons, located on Hopewell Road.
In Largent’s view, the murals serve as a stark counterpoint to the message embodied by the Confederate monument—arguably, a white supremacist one—elevated on the lawn of the Historic Burke County Courthouse.
“I took my grandkids and a friend of mine,” she says, regarding the process of the murals’ creation.
“As we were painting, I turned and saw the Confederate monument and I thought, ‘Wow! Isn’t this funny that we’re here creating something so diverse and wonderfully positive for our community in the same space as something so controversial? At that moment I chose not to look over my shoulder again but keep looking ahead at the beauty of the art being created! I think that’s when I really realized the power behind the murals. . . . I wish the murals could be painted on the courthouse walls. What a different message that would be.”
Presumably, she was referring to the Southeast Asian American and African American Murals, which are visible a few blocks from the Confederate monument that has stood for more than a century in the center of Morganton.
An Anti-Justice Country Anthem?
Now, it’s a challenge to parse through a Facebook post and effectively discern the deeper meaning of the commentor’s concern regarding the murals. And, we should be cautious about assigning implications that may or may not have been intended when they said Morganton is “losing the small hometown feeling.”
However, it’s incredibly difficult not to hear that type of language in the context of Largent’s comments, and not have the troubling lyrics of a recent controversy-stirring country song come to mind.
”Try That in a Small Town,” by Jason Aldean.
The lyrics “good ol’ boys, raised up right,” “you cross that line, it won’t take long,” and “got a gun that my granddad gave me” are drenched in threatening overtones reminiscent of the racial violence that accompanied Jim Crow-era Appalachia.
Sucker punch somebody on a sidewalk Carjack an old lady at a red light Pull a gun on the owner of a liquor store Ya think it's cool, well, act a fool if ya like Cuss out a cop, spit in his face Stomp on the flag and light it up Yeah, ya think you're tough Well, try that in a small town See how far ya make it down the road Around here, we take care of our own You cross that line, it won't take long For you to find out, I recommend you don't Try that in a small town Got a gun that my granddad gave me They say one day they're gonna round up Well, that shit might fly in the city, good luck Try that in a small town See how far ya make it down the road Around here, we take care of our own You cross that line, it won't take long For you to find out, I recommend you don't Try that in a small town Full of good ol' boys, raised up right If you're looking for a fight Try that in a small town Try that in a small town Try that in a small town See how far ya make it down the road Around here, we take care of our own You cross that line, it won't take long For you to find out, I recommend you don't Try that in a small town Try that in a small town Ooh-ooh Try that in a small town
The menacing lyrics aren’t the only abscinding aspect of the song, however.
As pointed out by Emily Olson for NPR, “Interspersed between shots of Aldean singing are clips of vandalizing, riots and police encounters, much of which is evocative of racial injustice protests.”
Perhaps the most poignant criticism of Aldean’s song stems from the location chosen for his music video: the Maury County Courthouse building in Columbia, Tennessee, which also happens to be the scene of a racial “uprising” in 1946 and the lynching of Henry Choate, an 18-year-old Black man, in 1927.
Aldean denies these allegations, writing on Twitter: "There is not a single lyric in the song that references race or points to it. ‘Try That In A Small Town,’ for me, refers to the feeling of a community that I had growing up, where we took care of our neighbors, regardless of differences of background or belief."
(Notably, Aldean did not write the song. Instead, it was written by Kelley Lovelace, Neil Thrasher, Tully Kennedy, and Kurt Allison.)
Nonetheless, the words “small town” are racially coded, at times, to imply a sort of colorblindness (or complete lack of diversity, even), conjuring up images of Mayberry (inspired by real-life Mount Airy, NC) and hearkening back to so-called “simpler times.” In other words, a return to a historical context when white Americans could more easily ignore or overlook the persistent and painful dynamics of living in a racialized society.
Many people have seen Aldean’s song as an anti-justice anthem.
For instance, Shannon Watts, founder of the group Moms Demand Action, described the song as an "ode to a sundown town,” suggesting "people be beaten or shot for expressing free speech."
Public Art Should Cause Discomfort (Sometimes)
With the increasing awareness around racial inequalities, the revival of white supremacist ideology by major American politicians and elected officials, as well as the rise of Christian nationalism, coded language about “small towns” functions in a way similar to that of Confederate flags.
As Dr. Cameron Lippard, department chair of sociology at Appalachian State, has said, “That flag only comes out when white people are mad,” in this case, angered by political movements for social progress, including BLM (Black Lives Matter) demonstrations in the wake of police brutality instances across the United States, campaigns against mass incarceration, and pleas for the removal of Confederate symbols from public spaces, to name a few.
In that same breath, reactionary voices have derisively labeled egalitarian-minded folks as socialist, “woke,” Marxist, or communist (as we saw several months ago from a Burke County commissioner).
These change-resistors have more recently found a rallying cry in ”CRT,” or critical race theory. Traditionally a legal concept used by academics, starting in the 1970s, to analyze the ways in which race as a social construct is embedded into legal systems and policies, reactionaries have since appropriated it to serve as a catchall for policies and cultural positions they deem unsavory.
And all of this talk of race, social progress, and the power of symbols and language, comes back to the new Morganton murals in one important way: Public art should make us feel uncomfortable.
Well, sometimes.
These murals, in particular, those centered around the contributions of Southeast Asian Americans and African Americans, elevate the voices of marginalized members of our community who have historically been oppressed and terrorized—and that provokes uncomfortable feelings about racial and socio-economic identity for some people.
It requires us to dwell on persistent injustices, our complicity in them, and the discomfort that arises when we know we should be doing more to help our neighbors—or to right the wrongs plaguing our community.
If the murals are, in fact, inciting such emotional disquiet, then they are accomplishing something more than celebrating the contributions of marginalized people.
They are sparking important conversations and, hopefully, fostering meaningful positive change in our small, Appalachian town.
Great job Jeffrey! Good art is supposed to make you think and feel!