He also compares this "hatred" to the Old South.
And this is where I went from "outraged" to "posting".
Lemme explain the Old South to you, mister, as a history student and a scholar and as somebody whose ancestors were part of it. From what I know, most of my ancestors didn't own slaves. This wasn't, as far as I know, anything moral- most of my ancestors were dirt poor smalltime farmers in a state that didn't have many rich plantations anyway. I am somewhat suspicious of where the big white house down in South Carolina came from, but that's my grandmother's family, which I don't know much about. My ancestors were confederate soldiers, except for one distant cousin, who was Abraham Lincoln. After the war, some relatives had black field hands or nannies. One great great grandmother might have been black, or she might have been Cherokee, or she might have been just dark skinned. Whatever it was, they didn't put it in the records.
What I'm trying to say here, is, the New South is complicated, and the Old South was worse, and is essentially covered by a generation and a thin scab. The old South was lynchings and slavery and death and blood and hatred. It was a thin veneer of honor and scattered rich folk in dress uniforms sewn by women who'd seen their children torn away and sold like they were no better than the cloth and needles. It was going to church one day and whipping the back of a child the next. It was murdering some idealistic Yankee schoolmarm who'd come down South to teach free black children. It was men in white sheets gathering in the pinewoods. It was some sixteen year old boy who'd never seen a slave fighting and dying for what they told him were his "rights". It was a woman on a bus who'd had a long day and a hard life and was tired of moving back.
What I'm trying to say here is, it wasn't an ethnic studies class.
Come around here, mister lawmaker who actually got his hateful scared little bill passed. I'll even get my license, so I can drive you around to a little cemetary with bright new Confederate flags, to a battlefield where they say they still see ghosts, to an old plantation where they keep the stocks in plain view.
And hey, maybe I'll get my little brother to build a time machine, and I'll take you back to the Old South itself.
I think you'd fit in well there.