Mississippi Expat: David McDowell
"I find that when I stumble across a fellow Mississippian here, we share a unique sense of sadness and joy and awareness. Being home feels like that all the time."
What does it mean to call Mississippi home? Why do people choose to leave or live in this weird, wonderful, and sometimes infuriating place? Today we hear from former electoral and legislative advocate and current seminarian David McDowell.
Where are you from?
I was born and raised just across the border in Louisiana, but I like to say I got to Mississippi as fast as I could. When I attended the University of Mississippi, I fell in love with the entire place and essentially made it a part of my personality. That said, these days when I say “home” I mean Jackson, Mississippi.
When did you move to Richmond, VA and why did you move there?
I moved to Richmond in 2021 in order to attend a Presbyterian seminary. Jackson is actually home to a popular Reformed seminary, but it is deeply conservative and decidedly not my vibe. I am a member of Fondren Presbyterian Church, a PCUSA congregation, and it became a place of peace for me during a tumultuous time. As I began to hear a call to ministry, Union Presbyterian Seminary created a Masters of the Arts in Public Theology, a means of marrying my interest in justice advocacy with the Gospel. I left a whole lot of tears on the way out of Jackson.
What does “home” mean to you? How does Mississippi fit into that definition?
One day, as I poured a bourbon under a Grove tent with the artist William Dunlap, he continued a story he was sharing: “William Faulkner always said all Mississippians want to be Virginians.” First, that has to be the most Mississippi sentence I’ve ever written in my life. Second, while I trust and love Mr. Dunlap (a genuine inspiration and state treasure!), I have never found a citation for this. But it makes sense, and I understand what that means now that I’m here. At least for me, that was like the dog catching the car, because I’ve been thinking a lot about the institutional knowledge I collected over fifteen years in Mississippi and how little intrinsic value that has here in Virginia.
In a lot of ways, spending time away from home means having to explain myself so much more. When Mississippians are together, certain important things can go left unsaid without any impact on empathy.
While I wish I could dump the lyrics of “Don’t Stop Believing” from my memory bank to free up some space, there’s nothing about Mississippi that I would ever give away. In a lot of ways, spending time away from home means having to explain myself so much more. When Mississippians are together, certain important things can go left unsaid without any impact on empathy. I find that when I stumble across a fellow Mississippian here, we share a unique sense of sadness and joy and awareness. Being home feels like that all the time.
Being home is not having to explain the draining realities of Boil Water Notices or Phil Bryant, but also an automatic understanding of those thick summer raindrops and why tiny snowmen can be fun, too. Being home feels like that all the time. I brought my Mississippi flag to display in front of my apartment, but there’s nothing like someone recognizing it right away. Being home feels like that all the time.
What do you miss most about Mississippi?
I miss my friends. I miss the fight for justice in the trenches of democracy. I miss running into Civil Rights icons at Kroger. I miss the wings at Wok 2 Go on North State St. and the last stool on the left at Bottletree Bakery. I miss getting stuck behind tractors. I miss folks understanding why it’s so awesome for Anna Wolfe to win a Pulitzer. I miss the pie at Urban Foxes and the salty breeze at The Blind Tiger. I miss sitting behind Governor William Winter at church. I miss seeing musicians at Red’s in Clarksdale instead of gawking at the price tag when they show up to play The Kennedy Center. I miss seeing alligators in the wild. I miss catfish that doesn’t taste like dirt and watermelon that doesn’t only taste like water. I miss all y’all.
How have you cultivated community in Richmond? Do you still feel rooted to Mississippi?
I tend to “fly my flag” for my communities once I decide they are worth it. This is revealed by the Mississippi flag that waves from my front door. My goal is for Google Street View to catch it before I move.
Sacrifice, camaraderie, and unrelenting love should be fundamental to our theological education; I’ve never seen this expressed more clearly than during my time of political advocacy in the state. I would not be here were it not for Mississippi.
Union Presbyterian Seminary offers incredible fellowship and I am proud to be a part of it. Union is a diverse, progressive space for spiritual formation. It is academically rigorous, devoted to justice, and embodies a sense of pastoral care and respect for one another. For seminarians who enter immediately after college, leaving can be a jarring experience, as the real world is not so grace-filled or empathetic. But many of us who enter from a second-career perspective can receive it as a sort of salve, an oasis for care of the soul, and one thing that allows us to remain optimistic about the world around us is a recognition of where we’ve seen these tactics of love elsewhere in the world.
Perhaps counterintuitively for outsiders, especially from a Christian perspective, memories of Mississippi go a long, long way. My friend and mentor Rims Barber is a Presbyterian minister who came down from Chicago to Jackson in Freedom Summer and stuck around for good because of the mission of his faith. Social justice movements can and do begin in the pulpit and the pews, regardless of what our conservatives insist. Sacrifice, camaraderie, and unrelenting love should be fundamental to our theological education; I’ve never seen this expressed more clearly than during my time of political advocacy in the state. I would not be here were it not for Mississippi. Mississippi’s challenges reveal the integrity and specialness of our state. If someone looks for it, the dueling values that play out on our front pages reveal a tangible sense of goodness that cannot be unseen.
What’s the weirdest question or assumption you’ve encountered about Mississippi (or about you as a Mississippian) by someone who’s never been there?
I saved this question for last because nothing immediately comes to mind. Maybe my community here is super supportive, or maybe I’m good at brushing those things off. The moment I send this off, something awful will probably happen.
How has being from Mississippi affected your identity and your life’s path?
I recognize that I am a particular type of ambassador whenever I leave the state. If I claim that part of my identity, I may be the first (or at least an uncommon) occurrence of a Mississippian in the wild. That means I need to be clear about the values we hold dear, the values hidden by some of our elected leaders who often try to snuff it out.
There is much to learn about what it means to be from somewhere, the baggage that can bring, and how communication creates opportunities to relate to one another. That’s one of the best things Mississippians (especially expats) have to offer.
What is something that you’ve come to understand about Mississippi by living elsewhere?
One day in class, I was talking with a classmate who is an older Black woman from the Midwest whose family elders were Mississippi sharecroppers. Her family moved away following any number of truly terrible experiences with racist white men. In one moment of intense conversation about racial injustice, we came to the realization that my claim as a Mississippian projected something dangerous and problematic. Though we agreed with one another on the focus of our conversation, my perspective was still quite naturally threatening. I spend so much time trying to present an alternative vision of what a Mississippian is, and am so comfortable with this part of my identity as a positive, that even among the most understanding classmates, discussion and empathy have to be at the forefront of who we are. There is much to learn about what it means to be from somewhere, the baggage that can bring, and how communication creates opportunities to relate to one another. That’s one of the best things Mississippians (especially expats) have to offer.
Have you ever thought about moving back? What would need to happen in order for you to move back to Mississippi?
I think about moving back every single day. I’m not sure where my next call will take me, but Mississippi is not only spiritually, but locationally, home. I was dragged away kicking and screaming but I never have trouble returning. Even though we are not nearby, I am getting married in Fondren in 2024. Mississippi is where we want to be for our most memorable experiences.
What do you wish the rest of the country understood about Mississippi?
I’m an avid Rooted reader, so I know the common answer is for people to understand that we contain multitudes and that our spotlighted problems are usually caricatures of the rest of the United States. These are fundamental truths and lovely to read from afar.
But I want to be a little more superficial: people need to know how beautiful the state is. The lushness is always shocking upon return. The vastness of the Delta is hardly comparable. Every hill and molehill in Mississippi has a story. The Coast is so full of life. The Mississippi indie rockers Colour Revolt have a song that repeats itself four times:
There is nothing more gorgeous or covered I have found Than the northern part of the state at sundown. There is nothing more gorgeous or covered I have found Than the southern part of the state at sundown. There is nothing more gorgeous or covered I have found Than the eastern part of the state at sundown. There is nothing more gorgeous or covered I have found Than the western part of the state at right now.
Do you have a favorite Mississippi writer, artist, or musician who you think everyone needs to know about?
I hope I’ve shouted out a number of folks along the way, but I should also name some of my dear friends who are incredible thinkers and representatives (in no particular order):
Amanda Furdge, poet
Spencer Thomas, songwriter
Andrew Bryant, songwriter
Gerry Wilson, author
Darren Grem, professor/historian
JT Thomas, professor/sociologist
Talamieka Brice, visual artist/filmmaker
Price Walden, composer
Andrew Blanchard, print artist
Rory Doyle, photographer
If you had one billion dollars to invest in Mississippi, how would you spend your money?
I would feed every child with nutritious food for their stomachs and with knowledge for their soul, ensuring they know just how special they are.
What or who do you want to shamelessly promote? (It can absolutely be a project you’re working on, or something you are involved in.)
Three organizations near and dear to my heart are Mississippi Votes, the Mississippi Coalition Against Domestic Violence, and Stewpot Community Services. You can (and should!) give to them.
I think the Faulkner/Dunlap quote broke my brain because I was born in Richmond so now i have to think about this for the rest of my life. Delightful interview and lots more to think about! Thank you!