The night the lights went out in Georgia.

A friend and author of Confessions of a Rebel Debutante, Anna Fields, poses a question on her blog to all women.

Are you a rebel, a deb, or both?

My initial response is to whoop a rebel call because I wasn't a debutant. I didn't attend the balls or eat the cookies - that was normally for girls whose families had more money. But I was a "quality girl" raised on the right side of the tracks in a good Christian home. So after some introspection, I change my answer to both.

Being raised a lady held the same rules as those debbing. Stand up straight. Be gracious and courteous to others, hospitable, and kind. I learned how to be a good hostess, how to set a table, which fork was which, never to cross my legs at the knee and how to properly behave in mixed company. These instructions gave me confidence and ease in any social or private situation. And as a southern girl I was taught under no circumstance to cause a fuss, make a scene, or embarrass myself or anyone else - all things can be settled in private or eventually the good Lord will deal with the perpetrator and justice will prevail.

I don't always behave the way my mother or grandmother would have in the same setting, but I am more inclined to hold my tongue and chose my battles. If it's none of my business, I generally stay out of it. I won't cause a scene just for the sake of drama, but if I have something to say or feel the need to set someone straight, I will. I don't think there's anything wrong with a little bit of embarrassment where a swift kick in the rear is needed. And if a little public humiliation doesn’t do the trick than I’ll leave it to the good Lawd or their mamas’, which ever one gets to them first.

Fight what’s worth fighting. Strength of character and a southern tongue are powerful weapons.


Julia: Excuse me, aren't you Marjorie Leigh Winnick, the current Miss Georgia World?

Marjorie: Why, yes I am.

Julia: I'm Julia Sugarbaker, Suzanne Sugarbaker's sister. I couldn't help over hearing part of your conversation.

Marjorie: Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was here.

Julia: Yes, and I gather from your comments there are a couple of other things you don't know, Marjorie. For example, you probably didn't know that Suzanne was the only contestant in Georgia pageant history to sweep every category except congeniality, and that is not something the women in my family aspire to anyway. Or that when she walked down the runway in her swimsuit, five contestants quit on the spot. Or that when she emerged from the isolation booth to answer the question, "What would you do to prevent war?" she spoke so eloquently of patriotism, battlefields and diamond tiaras, grown men wept. And you probably didn't know, Marjorie, that Suzanne was not just any Miss Georgia, she was the Miss Georgia. She didn't twirl just a baton, that baton was on fire. And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks! And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face! And that, Marjorie - just so you will know - and your children will someday know - is the night the lights went out in Georgia!


So, I'm both. A rebel and a deb.