Memphis (like Alabama) has a perception problem| Opinion

A few months ago, my husband and I moved to Memphis. I was named interim president of Memphis Theological Seminary on Aug. 1.

As most Memphians know, the seminary is in a very visible location in Midtown, at the intersection of East Parkway and Union. We live in one of the duplexes on seminary property.

When we tell people back home in Alabama we have moved to Memphis, they often say things like, “Be careful, I hear Memphis is a dangerous place”, or “Bless your heart” (that good ol' Southern saying that means you really are a bit crazy or just plain dumb).

When we knew we were moving to Memphis, I had some of these thoughts myself. But my ideas about Memphis have changed. Memphis does have its share of problems. Generational poverty, homelessness and crime are apparent, to be sure. But I think the worst problem Memphis has is perception.

Being from rural Alabama, I know a lot about perception problems. Over the years, as I have met people all over the world, after a brief conversation their question almost always comes: “You are not FROM Alabama are you?” “Yes,” I say, “born and raised on a small family farm in a town of about 400 people.” That’s amazing, they say.

What many people are thinking (and sometimes just go ahead and say) is: You don’t look like a redneck. You don’t act like a racist. You don’t seem like a poor country girl who can just barely read. Are you sure you are really FROM Alabama?

Yes, I know a lot about perception problems. Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot of poverty and crime and hopelessness in Alabama, too. Every once in a while you will hear a news report about some stupid, racist act. And at least one person in my immediate family drives an old pickup truck, wears overalls and drinks PBR (that’s Pabst Blue Ribbon beer if you are not from the South).

But, like Memphis, Alabama is much more than the image. That brother-in-law of mine who wears the overalls would also give the shirt off his back to anyone. He does not care a lick if you are black or white, gay or straight, Christian or Jew or Muslim. He (like most Alabamians) is a good person who loves his fellow man and tries to do right by everyone.

Now that I've been in Memphis a few months, I can tell people everywhere that Memphis is much more than some people’s perception. Memphis is a wonderful, diverse city where people wave at you even if they don’t know you. They sit on their porches and say, “How you doing?” when you walk by. You see a lot of people walking their dogs and chatting with each other.

Living in Midtown, we walk our own street and can see rundown housing -- some of it owned by the seminary, I'm sorry to say. (We are working on that.) But people on our street care about the neighborhood. They look out for one another.

And just one street over, you can walk past beautiful mansions. You can also walk to fine dining or a local brewery, a Fresh Market, a movie, the ballet, and if the weather is good, you can make it to Central BBQ for some ribs.

Memphis, like Alabama, may have problems. But I have never seen so many people, from churches and synagogues and mosques working together to help solve those problems.

The rest of the country could use a good dose of what you see in both Memphis and Alabama. In both places, you see good, “down home” people who care about their community, love their neighbor, feed the hungry and clothe the naked.

Now, when people ask, “How is it living in Memphis?” I can truly say, “Living in Memphis is just fine. You ought to come try it.”

Rev. Susan Parker, Ph.D. is interim president of Memphis Theological Seminary.