Fighting the Culture War with Biscuits

Let’s get one thing straight (and I say that with full rainbow clarity):

Being Southern doesn’t mean being a bigot.

Being Southern means showing up with a casserole when someone’s sick, waving at folks you don’t know just because it’s polite, and knowing the difference between “bless your heart” and “bless your heart”.

It means we know the land, love our neighbors, and were raised to mind our manners, not legislate someone else’s life.

So I don’t know who gave today’s culture warriors a Confederate-colored permission slip to speak for the South... but I’m here to take it back like a church fan on a hot Sunday: quick, loud, and with absolutely no patience for foolishness.

Grandma Didn’t Need a Law to Be Decent

Let me tell you something:
My granny never needed a bathroom bill to know how to be kind.

She didn’t carry a gun into the produce aisle or call the school board when someone said “gay.”
She made biscuits with her own two hands,
took care of people who didn’t look like her,
and could set a person straight just by folding her napkin real slow like.

She believed in manners, mercy, and minding your own damn business.

Today’s “culture warriors” believe in control, cruelty, and calling it Christian.

Well, bless their delusional little hearts.

“Family Values” My Biscuit-Loving Backside

You wanna talk family values?

Let’s talk about:

• Feeding folks before asking about their immigration status.

• Hugging your gay nephew instead of praying the rainbow out of him.

• Supporting teachers, not banning books.

• And not needing a Bible verse to justify being a decent human being.

Because real Southern values aren’t about what you’re scared of.
They’re about who you show up for.

If you’re quoting Leviticus while hoarding ammo and cutting Medicaid,
you’ve traded Sunday school for segregation with a side of self-righteousness.

You Can’t Be Pro-Jesus and Anti-Neighbor

Jesus was the original Southern troublemaker:

• Breaking bread with folks the church hated.

• Healing people without checking their documentation.

• Getting crucified by the empire because he refused to shut up about justice.

If he showed up today wearing sandals and talking about loving your enemies,
the same folks crying “cancel culture” would kick him out of the Cracker Barrel before the biscuits hit the table.

So no, this culture war ain’t about Jesus.

It’s about power, fear, and keeping the status quo comfy in its porch swing of privilege.

The Real South Smells Like Fresh-Baked Biscuits, Not Bluster and Bravado

The South I love doesn’t need drag bans, book bans, or bigoted pastors with earpieces and PAC money.

The South I love smells like fried okra, honeysuckle, and revolution.

It’s Black church choirs singing freedom into the rafters.
It’s queer youth building community in old storefronts.
It’s front porches where you can cuss, cry, and laugh until the lightning bugs show up.

And no matter how many flags they wave or laws they pass,
they can’t scrub that kind of love out of our soil.

Final Benediction (Served Hot with a Side of “Try Me”)

You want a culture war?
We’ll bring buttered biscuits and call your bluff.

Because the real South isn’t afraid of difference.

The real South knows Love wears all kinds of faces, speaks with all kinds of accents,
and probably brings a covered dish.

So if you’re scared of books, drag queens, and Black history,
don’t blame the South.
Blame your fragile theology.

And next time someone tells you to “defend family values”?
Ask them why their version of Jesus sounds more like a school board bully than the Prince of Peace.

Because this ain’t about tradition.
It’s about control.
And baby, the only thing Southern about that
is how fast we’re gonna fry it up and send it packing.