Order tea in a Southern state, and it will be sweet tea. Not sweetened, not sugared—SWEET. And it will be served ice cold with a LOT of ice and likely a wedge of lemon—even if you didn't request it. Because the only thing you can count on in the South more than a church and bank on every corner is that we like our tea sweet with sugar.
You’ll have to request tea “unsweetened” or even “hot” if you’re looking for the drink that happens over the pond in England. So if you’re part of the uninitiated, steel yourself for that first sip—it goes down cool, sweet, and right.
Sundays belong to the Lord and your momma’s good dinner—which is not to be confused with supper, which happens in the evening in case there’s a question about terminology. There’s a reason there’s a church on every corner in small towns across the South, and that’s because somebody and their relatives (commonly called “kin”) belong to them.
And while Sunday mornings are reserved for houses of worship, Sunday dinner (I believe other folks traditionally call this lunch) is the meal of the week at your mom or grandmother’s house that happens directly after church around the noon hour. You can even eat lunch the rest of the week, but on Sundays it's called dinner.
And then God created football. There’s no sport in the South that’s more revered than American football—the kind with a pigskin ball and 11 men on each side of it. And in the South, we start the kids early in football; most little boys have held one before they’ve even thought about their milk teeth yet.
In the South, families are split along longstanding football traditions and schools, where the only thing that can be agreed upon is that the SEC is the conference that all other colleges wish they were in. Football consumes weekends in the South—from the Thursday night middle school games through Friday Night Lights of the local high school, through Saturday collegiate games, and finally into Sunday, when the NFL takes over.
They say you can tell everything by a person’s dialect or accent—and nowhere will you find that more true than with Southern folks. We drop our Gs, mainly because we have a lot to say but also because we were raised that way. Dropping your Gs on verbs is as common as the mosquito being a state bird in some places.
There’s no sense in saying "darLING" when "darlin’" will suffice. The same is true for comin’, goin’, fixin’, carryin’, lovin, tryin, and givin’. They’re not lazy; they’re expressive.
If you’ve been around someone Southern, they likely called you "ma’am" or "sir"—regardless of age or whether or not they know you. And that can be a little weird at first—until you understand that it's from a principled point of respect; they aren’t just courtesy words in the South. The same with "please" and "thank you," as well as a good “God bless you” on a hardy sneeze.
These manners are driven into Southern youth at a young age, and while many think it's something of the past, just watch someone Southern try to get by you in a grocery store; I guarantee you’ll get an “excuse me, sir.”
If there’s one thing we love in the South, it's soda. But we don’t call it "soda," "soda pop," or "cola." We call it coke. Not to be confused with the brand “Coca-Cola”, although nine times out of 10, that’s exactly what we’re ordering. If someone asks you, “what kind of coke do you have?” then they’re asking specifically what carbonated beverages you have at your disposal.
They may order a Dr. Pepper or a Sprite. Heck, there’s a whole debate in the South between Pepsi and Coca-Cola, then there’s a whole debate on whether diet drinks are even “worth it.” But make sure you know that a Coke isn’t necessarily a coke.
Southern hospitality is world-renowned, and for good reason. You can’t expect to be raised in the South with manners and not be really good at hosting people in your home, campsite, or back of your pickup truck. Hospitality is something Southerners thrive on, and nowhere is it more apparent than during times of great grief or great celebration.
Southerners love a party—regardless of the circumstances—and they aren’t afraid to dress it up and parade it around. This is the same for men as it is for women; it just looks a little different in the form of an ice chest and some cold Coors Light.
It’s the word that transcends all others in the Southern vernacular: Y’all. And depending on how you say it, it means so much. For the uninitiated and the grammar police, it’s a contraction of "you" and "all." "Y’all" can be a group of people, it can be singular. It can be an exclamation or an adjective.
And once you’ve introduced the word into your lexicon, it's rather difficult to get away from, much like your favorite swear word. "Y’all" can be a swear, it can be endearing, and it’s inclusive. Unlike most contractions, you can’t split it in the middle. There’s only one way to spell it: Y-'-A-L-L.
In the South, we’ll fry anything and eat it—not just chicken, potatoes, or corndogs. We’ll fry chocolate bars, we’ll fry cake, we’ll fry fish and vegetables, and we’ll fry Oreos. If it can be battered and dipped in oil, you can bet that it’s been fried in the South already (bonus if you added a stick for ease of eating).
And every family has a tried-and-true recipe for a chicken casserole that freezes beautifully and works great for family reunions, picnics, funerals, new babies, and potlucks. We’re picky about our chicken and dumplins’, our cornbread dressing, and our banana pudding. Isn’t everyone?
There’s no real limit to what you can have as a pet in the South, and all pets would be classified as "emotional support" animals. We’re not afraid to keep rodents, livestock, reptiles, or exotic animals as pets—beyond the normal, run-of-the-mill cats and dogs.
It’s the rare Southern home that only has a single pet; many have more than one, and it's not unusual that we’ve adopted an abandoned squirrel or rabbit. We love ducks, we feed the local raccoons, and we love, love, love an old-fashioned mutt that’s been abandoned at the shelter.
If you’re from the South, then you likely have boots of all different shapes and forms. We have rubber boots, we have cowboy boots. We have steel-toed boots, we have dress boots. There are wedding and funeral boots. Ladies have booties, heeled boots, knee boots, and casual boots.
Boots are the footwear du jour in the South, regardless of the humidity or temperature outside. The only boots we likely don’t have, ironically, are snow boots—but we wear our daddy’s hunting boots on those days.
Any good Southerner worth their salt has been raised on numerous home remedies—not because we don’t trust doctors or modern science, but because they’ve been passed down for generations. Everyone knows that for hiccups, it’s a spoonful of sugar. There’s nothing hurting you that aspirin can’t fix. Sore throat? You’ve likely come across a hot toddy full of bourbon and lemonade.
Vicks VapoRub fixes a myriad of issues, but only if you spread it on your feet to help with a cold. Any upset tummies can be fixed by a room temperature ginger ale, and you can cure an ear infection with hydrogen peroxide.
If there’s one event all year that Southern folks look forward to, it’s the county fair. It’s the best possible social event—outside of football—that charms all ages. You have livestock showcases, you have rodeos. You have a midway full of hastily put-together rides and game barkers who will steal you blind.
You have 92 different food carts all selling a variation of cotton candy and things fried on sticks. You’ll see everyone you've ever met there. Your momma will have put up some needlework for judging, and there’s always a pie contest.
If you’re from the South, then likely your school calendar had "snow days" built into it. And if you’re from the North or really, anywhere that sees more than three inches of annual snowfall, you’re likely asking yourself: What is a "snow day?"
In the South, we shut down altogether for snow, sleet, and freezing rain. And when we say "shut down," we mean government offices, schools, banks, and businesses. The only businesses open are the grocery store and liquor store—but they’ll already be out of bread, eggs, and milk.
If you had to ensure that you were prepared for life in the South, the one thing you’d need is something camouflage—and no, you don’t have to be a hunter to wear it. What started as a trend for blending in with seasonal hunting has given way to fashion trends that are always in style in the South.
There’s so much camouflage that you may even overlook us sometimes, but that’s okay; we’ll open our mouths and let you know we’re around.
