I am no longer a Texan.
So much about my personal identity has changed over the last 2 years. I was a young married guy, the ladies still had an eye for me, investigating abuse in crack houses while combing my hair nonchalantly, the wind blowing the nice Texas breeze across the chest of a man descended from Hercules while I took Tequila shooters two at a time and winked at the young coed.
Now I am a Midwesterner who’s a stay at home dad with 2 kids and a secret crush on the Noggin Girls. But the young coed’s still get a wink from time to time.
And I was a Texan.
Now I’m not and this is the most disturbing change of all.
For those that are not fortunate enough to be a Texan, let me explain the mindset that we have.
A Texan believes this: We are better than you.
We are bigger, stronger and certainty our women are way better looking. Sure you may have your models but our chicks can strut the runway right after getting into a bar fight. Nothing quite as hot as getting your ass kicked in by a girl.
We believe that our cuisine is divine and the reason you don’t like it is because you are nothing short of a pinko commie pig.
We believe that our land was molded by the big man himself, who wears a ten gallon hat on the weekends, as the first act of creation. We have the forests of central Texas, the plains of the Pan Handle and the Mountains of the south.
We know that we are hicks, but we are hicks with oil. We make Gatsby look like West Egg but we are ok with our new money because it smells better than your moldy ass.
We are firm believers that this is a great country because we are positive that Texans hold it up to glory on our shoulders, and yes, they are bigger than yours.
We believe that if the rest of the world would listen to us, then their problems would be solved. It’s simple—make it bigger, have some guy shoot a gun and then crank up the air conditioning. Now, I know the president is a Texan, but hey, he just lost his way. Come on home Bubba.
Here, right is right and wrong is wrong. If you kill somebody here, chances are that we are going to return the favor. Yes, we lead the nation in executions and we are ok with that. We know that this may offend a lot of people but here is how we deal with that: Suck it, we are Texans.
Love your Mamma and respect the power of the switch tree. We may be hicks but we’re fair. Everybody gets licks regardless of their gender. Hell, we are ahead of our time.
We still have a secret hatred of Alaska because now they have a bigger state than us. But at any given time we have plans to annex a huge part of Mexico, we’ve done it before. We’d do it just to show up those uppity bastards in Alaska and their fucking moose. Give me a longhorn any day of the week.
I know the perception of the world is that we sit atop our horses in our big hats and shoot our guns and name our kids with 2 first names, like Jim Bob. Well, we do. I actually have a cousin that has a name very similar and my Uncle does indeed wear a cowboy hat and have horses. He is without a doubt the scariest man I knew growing up because I was sure he would take that cowboy boot and stick it up my ass. I was well behaved.
So when we travel and people ask us were we are from we put on our best Texan drawl and proudly proclaim “Texas” as a direct challenge to anyone to even try to rip on our great state.
This indoctrination starts early. We are required to take Texas History for two years in school and by the end of it the Texas pride just begins to swell. You just can’t help it when you hear stories of the Alamo. It just grows and grows in you until you fully believe that you are somehow related to those brave men.
Right or wrong, that is what you believe as a Texan. My intellectual part knows that this is all false and Texans have as many problems as everyone else. But I still feel like that, you just can’t help it.
The truth is, to my ever lasting shame, is that I am not actually a natural born Texan. I was born out of state while my parents were driving though Louisiana. We never lived there, they were just passing through there when I decided to arrive. My wife and I are the only ones of my entire family not born here.
My brother and sister are both natural Texans. My Father is a natural born Texan. All my relatives are natural born Texans. Hell, my two kids are even natural born Texans. When confronted with this I just use the old adage that Texas transplants use: I wasn’t born here but I got here as fast as I could.
It’s nothing short of brainwashing. We all know but we all accept it because we like the image of who we are and we do try to live up to it. Is it any wonder that the Dallas Cowboys, love them or hate them, is known as America’s team? Do me a favor, go find a Texan and insult his mother or sister and see how quick you get your ass kicked. We can’t help it, we just have to do it because that’s the image we have built up.
But that’s no longer who I am. Now that my family and I have moved to Kansas City, I am in America’s heartland. I suppose I must now like corn on the cob and tornados. I just might go out and look up Dorothy and Toto and ask them what the deal was with the Glenda, does she put out or what?
But I can’t because I am still a Texan and I suppose that I will always be no matter where I go. I’ll keep the drawl and I might go out and actually by a cowboy hat even though I have never worn one a day in my life. A lot has changed for me over the last two years, but that is just one thing I just won’t let go of.
Now, do you want to insult my mother or my sister???