The changing face of Mississippi
DOUGLASS SULLIVAN-GONZÁLEZ
Take the hard facts or just listen to the anecdotes and you’ll come to the same conclusion: the face of Mississippi is changing.
My family and I moved to Oxford, Mississippi, in 1993, and dutifully, I found my way to the State’s driver’s license
bureau on Highway 7, south of Oxford, housed in some sort of brown trailer. I sat at the wooden desk taking my written
exam and a young man - clearly Hispanic, probably from Oaxaca, Mexico — entered the trailer, asked the young attendant if
he could have a copy of the Driver License manual in Spanish. I remember her quick response: “Huh?”
Look at the 2000 US Census for Mississippi and the facts back up the multiple experiences: 39,569 people count themselves
of Hispanic origin, or 1.4 per cent of the State’s population, compared to 15,931 in 1990. “Hispanic” is a strange
category, not exactly racial, probably more linguistic and cultural. We all see the word “Spanish” hidden in that word, “Hispanic,”
but the inclusive term doesn’t really work that well. You can be from an Indian neighborhood in Quezaltenango,
Guatemala, not speak a lick of Spanish (try K’iché!) and still be “Hispanic.” The current, operational term in the hills of North
Mississippi is “Ahh, he’s Mexican!”
The work ethic of these new immigrants from South of the border astonishes all. I’ve heard stories from Panola, Tallahatchie,
and Lafayette counties that confirm this affirmation: these people know how to work. “Did you see those Mexicans
run yonder and thither from hay bale to hay bale?” “I hired them to clean under the power lines, and I could barely keep up
with them in my jeep!” The influx of working families from Mexico, Central and South America, and the Caribbean is changing
our State. North Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and Arkansas have already experienced this phenomenon and enjoyed a relatively
strong boost to their economy as a result. It’s our turn now.
With such moments of opportunity inevitably will come the temptation to fear. A delightful restaurant manager in Oxford,
known for his suave charisma with the gents and ladies, answered the door bell at his residence and took a baseball bat directly
to the jaw seven years ago. A complete stranger with murky motives was judged and sentenced for the attack. “Maybe
he was jealous that I had made it here,” Julio later reflected, “but you can never judge an entire people for the actions of
one.” After surgery, Julio returned quickly to the popular restaurant and still greets all the customers with his infectious
smile and “Hola, amigo, how are you my friend?”
And so the story continues. If that new Interstate 69 is ever built, linking Indianapolis through Mississippi to McAllen,
Texas, and thus, Mexico, our State will continue to benefit through the arrival of hard-working people like Julio. My wife
and I are part of this change. My Irish name is now hyphenated with my Nicaraguan wife’s surname. You get a peculiar six
syllable, sixteen lettered, “Sullivan-González”. It is really awkward and the doctor’s assistants can never remember if
they filed our medical records under “Sullivan” or “González”. I probably wouldn’t recommend hyphenating to others. But
the name does indicate the change.
On the weekends, I pastor a small Presbyterian Church in the hills of Tallahatchie off Teasdale road, between Enid and
Charleston. That long hyphenated name has been beautifully scripted at the bottom of our church sign. The local sheriff commented
to one of the elders of our church, “I see you gotcha a González.” Travis, one of our insightful leaders, retorted,“Don’t worry, he’s one of us.”
That’s Gospel. We are all children of Eve. DBJ
(Douglass Sullivan-González is the Dean of the Sally McDonnell Barksdale Honors College and an Associate Professor of Latin
American History at the University of Mississippi. He and his wife, Maribel, and two daughters, Frances and Renée, reside
in Oxford.)
