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In 2015, Tom Petty opened up about one of his career regrets: the Confederate flag.

'When they wave that flag, they aren't stopping to think how it looks to a black person.'

Legendary musician Tom Petty passed away Monday, Oct. 2, 2017 at age 66. During his more than 40 years making music, Petty won three Grammys, earned a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He was a true icon who helped shape the future of rock and roll.

There's no shortage of positive stories and playful anecdotes about the singer being shared in the wake of his death, but there's one story in particular that stands out for its humanity as well as its connection to current events.


That story, of course, is about the time Tom Petty expressed regret for his early-career use of Confederate flag imagery.

In 1985, Petty released an album called "Southern Accents."

Originally from Gainesville, Florida, Petty set off to make a concept record about the South — though he later admitted that it lost that "concept" thread along the way. In marketing the record and the tour that followed its release, Petty made use of some pretty heavy Confederate flag imagery.

[rebelmouse-image 19531653 dam="1" original_size="750x466" caption="Petty in a 1986 documentary about the making of "Southern Accents." Image via Richard Schenkman/Vimeo." expand=1]Petty in a 1986 documentary about the making of "Southern Accents." Image via Richard Schenkman/Vimeo.

30 years after the record came out, Petty sat down with Rolling Stone to discuss the Confederate flag, saying he had a few regrets about his relationship to the symbol.

In the interview, which took place hours after South Carolina decided to remove the flag from its statehouse grounds in 2015, Petty showed himself as a man unafraid to admit his mistakes. Describing the flag as "the wallpaper of the South" when he was growing up, Petty explained that in 1985, he hadn't really put a whole lot of thought into what it symbolized.

Two years after he and the band had stopped touring in support of that specific record, Petty noticed more and more fans at his shows were showing up decked out in Confederate memorabilia.

"One night, someone threw [a Confederate flag] onstage," he recalled. "I stopped everything and gave a speech about it. I said, 'Look, this was to illustrate a character. This is not who we are. Having gone through this, I would prefer it if no one would ever bring a Confederate flag to our shows again because this isn't who we are.'"

Petty's moment of self-reflection is a lesson for us all.

Recognizing our mistakes, and correcting for them is one of the most important things we can do as human beings. It's how we grow as people and as a society.

Petty noted that he did find it kind of bizarre that the U.S. seems to be one of the only places where citizens continue to fly the flag of an unrecognized "country" that went to war here and lost but that he understands its contemporary use doesn't necessarily stem from a hateful or racist place. Still, he hoped that others would rethink their support for it, like he did.

Petty performs in 2014. Photo by Jerod Harris/Getty Images.

"But when [people] wave that flag, they aren't stopping to think how it looks to a black person," he wrote. "I blame myself for not doing that. I should have gone around the fence and taken a good look at it. ... It was dumb and it shouldn't have happened. Again, people just need to think about how it looks to a black person. It's just awful. It's like how a swastika looks to a Jewish person. It just shouldn't be on flagpoles."

So thank you, Tom Petty — for the music as well as the powerful lessons about empathy and self-reflection.

Hey, look! Congress did something kind of bipartisan for a change.

Photo by Mandel Ngan/Getty Images.


Perhaps even more surprisingly, Congress did something positive.

Under a newly passed amendment to a larger bill, the Confederate flag will no longer be welcome at many veterans' cemeteries.

A Confederate veterans' cemetery. If the law takes effect, the ban would only apply to cemeteries administered by the V.A. Photo by John Moore/Getty Images.

The outcome of the vote was reported by The Associated Press:

"The House voted Thursday to ban the display of the Confederate flag on flagpoles at Veterans Administration cemeteries.

The 265-159 vote would block descendants and others seeking to commemorate veterans of the Confederate States of America from flying the Confederate Battle Flag over mass graves, even on days that flag displays are permitted."

This kind of vote might not have been possible just a few years ago.

For decades, the Confederate flag, a symbol of slavery and Jim Crow, flew on public property all over the South.

As late as 2000, the flag was still flying over the South Carolina state capitol. A highly contentious debate that year ended with the flag's removal from the building itself, but lawmakers — in an attempt to accommodate (mostly) white Southerners who claimed the flag was simply a marker of their regional identity and heritage — allowed it to remain on public grounds near the statehouse.

Last year's tragic shooting in Charleston, South Carolina, in which nine black men and women were murdered in their own church, finally got lawmakers on both sides of the aisle rethinking the place the flag has in public life.

Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images.

After an investigation into shooter Dylann Roof revealed dozens of images detailing his worship of the Confederate flag, its place as a racist symbol became impossible to ignore.

Lawmakers in South Carolina voted to finally and completely remove the flag from the area in front of the statehouse (even before lawmakers acted, courageous activist Bree Newsome took it down on her own).

It's regrettable that it took a tragedy of such terrible magnitude to force this much-needed change.

The Confederate flag is lowered at the South Carolina statehouse. Photo by John Moore/Getty Images.

Thankfully, that change is finally coming to Washington — and, with this vote, becoming the rare issue where Democrats and at least some Republicans, are coming closer to agreement rather than drifting farther apart.

For now, at least, the Confederate flag debate is finally moving in the right direction.

A South Carolina police officer puts away the Confederate flag that had been flying at the statehouse. Photo by John Moore/Getty Images.

Down, instead of up.

There is no better way to celebrate Black History Month than with historic photographs from an era long-gone ... and Beyoncé.

The photos are publicly available for the first time thanks to the recently digitized collection from the Farm Security Administration, which captured America on film from the mid-1930s to 1942. Along with other agencies' photos, the collection totals more than 170,000 pictures

The images below offer a rare glimpse into the lives of African-American workers and families. Many were employed as sharecroppers or tenant farmers, but landowners often kept these farmers in their debt, leaving many hardworking families poverty-stricken. Conditions worsened with the Great Depression, as African-American workers were hit especially hard. By 1932, nearly half were out of work. It was a bleak period in history, but it laid the groundwork for many of the labor movements and civil rights protests to come. 


Like these photographs, Beyoncé's latest single, "Formation," (written by Queen B and Swae Lee) perfectly captures a spirit that is strong, fearless, and unapologetically black. 

In the spirit of Black History Month, why not experience the two together?

"Y'all haters corny with that Illuminati mess."

Natchez, Mississippi, 1940. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Paparazzi, catch my fly, and my cocky fresh."

Watching the Columbia-Navy football game in Annapolis, Maryland. Photo by John Vachon/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I'm so reckless when I rock my Givenchy dress (stylin')."

Church Sunday in Little Rock, Arkansas, 1935. Photo by Ben Shahn/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"My daddy Alabama"

Reading classes in Gee's Bend, Alabama, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Momma Louisiana. You mix that Negro with that Creole make a Texas bama."

A sharecropper's home in Independence, Louisiana, 1939. Photo by Lee Russell/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I like my baby heir with baby hair and Afros. I like my Negro nose with Jackson 5 nostrils."

Lee County, Mississippi, 1935. Photo by Arthur Rothstein/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Earned all this money but they never take the country out me. "

Fuquay Springs, North Carolina, 1935. Photo by Arthur Rothstein/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I got hot sauce in my bag, swag."

Clarksdale, Mississippi, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I like corn breads and collard greens"

Washing greens in Belle Glade, Florida, 1941. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Oh, yes, you besta believe it."

Granville County, North Carolina, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I see it, I want it"

"I stunt, yellow-bone it."

A woman works at a factory in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Photo by Jack Delano/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I dream it."

"I work hard."

A woman teaches lessons in her home in Transylvania, Louisiana, 1939. Photo by Russell Lee/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I grind till I own it."

Memphis, Tennessee, 1938. Photo by Lee Russell/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Sometimes I go off (I go off)"

Singing during the collection at a black church in Heard County, Georgia. Photo by Jack Delano/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I go hard (I go hard)"

A man removes seeds from a cotton gin in Clarksdale, Mississippi, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Get what's mine (take what's mine)"

A man buys supplies from a mobile general store in Forrest City, Arkansas, 1938. Photo by Russell Lee/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I'm a star (I'm a star)"

Students in Omar, West Virginia. Photo by Ben Shahn/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"'Cause I slay, slay"

"I slay, hey, I slay, OK"

Friends gather at a juke joint in Clarksdale, Mississippi, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I slay, OK, all day, OK."

Unloading tobacco in Durham, North Carolina, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I slay, OK, I slay, OK."

Easter morning, Chicago. Photo by Russell Lee/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"We gon' slay, slay"

The bar at the Palm Tavern in Chicago, 1941. Photo by Russell Lee/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"We slay, OK."

Swimming in the fountain at Union Station in Washington, D.C., 1938. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"OK, ladies, now let's get in formation. 'Cause I slay."

National Youth Administration meeting in Chicago. Photo by Russell Lee/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"OK, ladies, now let's get in formation. 'Cause I slay."

Fourth- and fifth-grade students in Georgia, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Walcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Prove to me you got some coordination."

Construction workers in Washington, D.C., 1941. Photo by John Collier/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I might get your song played on the radio station. 'Cause I slay."

A blind street musician performs in West Memphis, Arkansas, 1935. Photo by Ben Shahn/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I might get your song played on the radio station. 'Cause I slay."

John Dyson plays the accordion in Maryland, 1940. Photo by John Vachon/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"You might just be a black Bill Gates in the making. 'Cause I slay."

A farmer with his family and mule team in Flint River Hills, Georgia, 1939. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"I might just be a black Bill Gates in the making. 'Cause I slay."

A young girl works on a sewing project in Creek County, Oklahoma,1940. Photo by Russell Lee/U.S. Farm Security Administration.

"Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper."

A former slave in her home in Greensboro, North Carolina, 1941. Photo by Jack Delano/U.S. Farm Security Administration

Don't let Black History Month end without checking out the rest of these incredible photographs.

There are hundreds more where these came from, and you can access all of them for free courtesy of the New York Public Library. 

Michael Twitty is a southerner, a Jew, a cook, a gay black man, a TED fellow, a historian, and an all around cool dude.

I first discovered him in a Washington Post article about his work uncovering and illuminating the African-American origins of southern cooking.


OOooh!

He’s a man who spends his time trying to deeply understand, uncover, and then share the roots of the food he loves. And he goes to great lengths to do it — he once spent 16 hours picking cotton to get the experience of his ancestors.

Another time, he met with the white descendants of the family that once OWNED his ancestors to compare recipes of their families!

He writes about these experiences and more on his hugely popular blog, Afroculinaria.

Through food, Twitty sees a way to heal old American wounds.

Twitty is on a mission to bring attention and appreciation to the true roots of our favorite Southern dishes.

He calls it "culinary justice."

As he wrote in an open letter to Paula Deen (that later went viral):

"In the world of Southern food, we are lacking a diversity of voices and that does not just mean Black people — or Black perspectives! We are surrounded by culinary injustice where some Southerners take credit for things that enslaved Africans and their descendants played key roles in innovating. Barbecue, in my lifetime, may go the way of the Blues and the banjo... a relic of our culture that whisps away. "

As a semi-Southern white person, I've often looked at Southern food, culture, history and been like, "There's a lot more here that I don't know about."

Well, turns out there is!

Here are some of Twitty's favorite authentic dishes, all of which went on to have a huge influence on Southern soul food.

I dug through Twitty's Twitter account to find these gems. And now I am hungry. Join me.

1. Fried chicken and sweet potatoes

A true classic!

Many people see these dishes as classic Southern fare, but there's a LOT more to Southern culinary traditions, as you'll see below.

Here's a nod to the so-called classic, with a very authentic twist — prepared over open coals! #impressive.

2. Kush, aka the original cornbread stuffing

Twitty's recipe was featured in Vice magazine's Munchies:

“Kush was a cornbread scramble made from the basic elements of the antebellum ration system, which spread from the enslaved person’s quarters outward to the Big House and the kitchens of whites high and low.”

The kush above is prepared with quail. You can find the recipe for Twitty's kush here.

3. West African stew

Any Southern person has a special relationship with okra. Trust me.

Twitty (and this stew below) is no different. He prepares an authentic West African stew featuring the mythical okra, a tropical plant native to Africa.

Here's the recipe (with links to the tweets!):

  1. Heat the palm oil.
  2. Add the sweet potatoes.
  3. Add the onions and okra and fry over high heat.
  4. Add soaked salt fish and a few chopped tomatoes, maybe garlic.
  5. Add fresh greens and stir gently; salt to taste.
  6. Add red pepper and stew until vegetables are done and salt fish is flaked and hot.
  7. Watch out for bones. Eat stew with your favorite starch.

And if you're wondering what that fluffy mashed-potato-like substance is, it's...

4. Fufu

Twitty recently collaborated with Colonial Williamsburg to illuminate the culinary traditions of slaves during that time period. The dishes are nothing if not period appropriate at Colonial Williamsburg, and this highlight is just one of many that serves to bring the stories of American slaves into the light.

Fufu "is to Western and Central Africa cooking what mashed potatoes are to traditional European-American cooking."

Oh, and high-five for Colonial Williamsburg not shying away from acknowledging America's legacy of slavery!

5. Akara

Akara are black-eyed pea fritters!

Black-eyed peas, or Vigna unguiculata, are actually native to Asia and the Mediterranean, and they were first domesticated in West Africa.

6. Gullah Geechee winter greens and rice

As Twitty stated in a cooking video with ChefsFeed, "Gullah and Geechee were colloquial names for the Africans that were brought to the [American Southern coastal] area to grow rice"

The dish is essentially collard greens simmered in a homemade ginger-peanut butter-coconut milk. This recipe is vegan and gluten free, just FYI.

Feast your eyes.

I want to go there. You can learn more about the recipe by watching the video here. Image via ChefsFeed/YouTube.

And as for the plain and simple rice? Let's remember its origins.


7. Guinea yam fried in palm oil


The Igbo people are an ethnic group of Africans that still exist today. During the trans-Atlantic slave trade, though, many Igbo people were brought to the Chesapeake Bay and Maryland colonies, making that particular ethnic group the largest in the region.

So naturally it follows that these folks would've had a huge influence on the way food was prepared — bringing their own traditions and methods with them. Including dishes like this one.

To find the origins of these dishes, Michael Twitty sought out recipes not just from his family, but from the descendants of the family that once enslaved his ancestors.

And yes, he's related by blood to some of those descendants of slave owners, too. It's a whole mix of history and food, shame and love.

It's crazy to think about ... but so is America.

It's about time we recognized that the folks who profit off Southern food — like Paula Deen and Colonel Sanders — aren't necessarily the only ones who made it what it is today.

Michael Twitty's job isn't just to whip up fantastic looking dishes. It's to make sure everyone knows that Southern food has deeper roots in black American culture than we ever realized.