The idea that every redneck is a racist is preposterous, if you ask me. My name is Dawn O'Shea and I'm a lifelong resident of Biloxi, a small town in the heart of Mississippi. I was born on November 9, 1967, to Thomas and Darlene O'Connor. My father worked for the U.S. Postal Service and my mom was a schoolteacher. I studied business at Jackson State University, and returned to Biloxi to open up a restaurant, Dawn's Place.
While at Jackson State University, I met the love of my life. Jean-Luc Wanton, a tall, good-looking African-American gentleman originally from the City of Brockton, Massachusetts. We're from different worlds, Jean-Luc and I. Hell, come to think of it, Jean-Luc's folks came from different worlds too. His mother Elsie Vincent hails from the island of Haiti, and his father, Joseph Wanton, is white, originally from the south side of Boston. All the way down in Massachusetts, or Yankee country as I call it.
The two of them met, got married and had Jean-Luc, the fascinating and unique man who literally changed my world. Jean-Luc Wanton was born to Elsie Vincent-Wanton and Joseph Wanton on February 5, 1969. Guess you could say that confronting racial prejudice was in Jean-Luc's blood, since he's the son of an interracial couple. Now, at the time that Jean-Luc and I were canoodling on the Jackson State University campus, the South was going through a lot of changes. Integration was the order of the day, and try as they might, the rednecks couldn't stop progress. No sir, they did put up a fight though.
Now, the thing about my part of the world is that folks don't bullshit you. If they're racist, they'll let you know. If they're cool with you, then they're cool with you. Polite to your face and bigoted behind your back isn't how we do things in the South or Midwest. Nope, we're upfront about how we feel when it comes to the issue of race. Jean-Luc and I got our share of angry stares and racial comments from bigoted students and faculty while at Jackson State University, but we didn't let that stop us.
I consider myself a lucky woman that I even met Jean-Luc Wanton, seriously. I'm a business-minded gal, always good with numbers but I suck at human relations and I'm not what you'd consider a warm and fuzzy type. I didn't want to be like almost every redneck chick from my neck of the woods, barefoot and pregnant by age twenty, and destined to never venture beyond a hundred miles of Biloxi.
No sir, I had me some plans. I wanted to get a bachelor's degree in business, and work for a big company in someplace fancy like New York City, Boston or Los Angeles. The north always fascinated me, and I didn't have a die-hard hatred for all things north of the Mason-Dixon line like so many rednecks. Nope, I firmly believe in giving people a fair shake before passing judgement on them. It's what this southern gal was taught in Sunday school.
I've always been brainy, which is a good thing since Heaven didn't bless me with good looks. I'm six-foot-tall, with broad shoulders, large breasts, a chubby body, a huge ass and thick thighs. My hair is a long, unkempt and mousy shade of brown. My eyes are a dull blue, and my skin is what they call fish-belly white around here. I swear, it's a damn curse to be Irish in someplace warm and sunny like the South because as everyone knows, we Irish folk don't tan, we burn like crisp critters.
