by Tena Clark
To Cindy Chapman: Thank you for sharing your beautiful mother with me. She would be so proud of you today, of your courage and kindness. You remind me of her in so many ways. I love you, my dear friend.
To my cousins Rita Faye, Francis, and Bubba, who helped me remember so many stories and colorful details: I am forever grateful for each of you. My dear Bubba passed away after the book was finished, but his spirit can be felt in these pages.
To Debbie Allen, my best friend, who encouraged me for years to share my story: Debbie, you are fierce and brave. You make me laugh harder than anyone I know. I love you.
To Norman Lear, Elaine Rogers, Mark Seelig, Sela Ward, and Maria Shriver: Each of you encouraged me to share my story and to honor my truth. Thank you for your many years of friendship, support, advice, and love.
To Ed Bacon and George Regas, my spiritual compasses and lighthouses of love and hope for more than thirty years: You taught me grace and humility and how to fight for justice for those who do not have a voice. You showed me how to love unconditionally even when it might seem impossible. I will be forever grateful for both of you.
I’m deeply grateful to my extremely talented agent, Brettne Bloom, and her colleagues at the Book Group. Brettne has mentored me through this process and has truly become part of my family. BB, I adore you!
I am so blessed to have landed with the most incredible editor in the world, Trish Todd, a fellow Southerner, and her amazing team at Touchstone, including Kaitlin Olson, Susan Moldow, Meredith Vilarello, Tara Parsons, Brian Belfiglio, Abigail Novak, and Cherlynne Li. Many thanks as well to Jason Richman at UTA for believing in Southern Discomfort.
Finally, to the readers of this story, I’d like to say this: I still believe in the goodness of people and that real change is possible. I hope and pray that before my daughter is my age, the lessons of this book will feel antiquated, and that the profound bigotry that I witnessed as a child and that continues to keep America from being a country of true equality is a permanent part of our past. I truly believe that with love and forgiveness, we can all heal and move forward to create a better world.
We are all God’s children.
A Touchstone Reading Group Guide
Southern Discomfort
Tena Clark
This reading group guide for Southern Discomfort includes an introduction, discussion questions, ideas for enhancing your book club, and a Q&A with author Tena Clark. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.
Introduction
Tena Clark was born in 1953 in a tiny rural Mississippi town, where the legacy of slavery and racial injustice permeated every aspect of life. On the outside, her childhood resembled a fairy tale. Her father was a successful businessman and her mother was a beauty queen. But behind closed doors, Tena’s life was deeply lonely and chaotic. By the time she was three, her parents’ marriage had dissolved. Adding to the turmoil, Tena understood from a very young age that she was different from her three older sisters, all of whom had been beauty queens and majorettes. Tena knew she didn’t want to be a majorette—she wanted to marry one.
On Tena’s tenth birthday, her mother, emboldened by alcoholism and enraged by her husband’s incessant cheating, walked out for good, instantly becoming an outcast in society. With her parents distracted and her sisters grown up and out of the house, Tena was left in the care of her black nanny, Virgie, who became Tena’s surrogate mother and confidante, and whose acceptance and love gave Tena the strength to be herself and challenge the strict rules of the society in which she was raised.
Southern Discomfort is a moving story of Tena’s coming-of-age and the people—and places—that shaped her.
Topics & Questions for Discussion
1. Why do you think Tena choose to title her memoir Southern Discomfort? Describe the South in which Tena came of age. What aspects of life in the South does Tena take umbrage with? Why?
2. From an early age, music has a profound influence on Tena’s life. When she first plays the drums, she says, “I knew that whatever that sensation was, I wanted more of it.” What doors does it open for her personally and professionally? How does music help Tena connect with her mother?
3. Tena writes that, “In many ways, [Vivian and Lamar] were meant for each other.” Given that Southern Discomfort begins with Vivian leaving Lamar, were you surprised by Tena’s statement? What did you think of Vivian and Lamar’s relationship? Do you think that they were ever well suited for each other? If so, explain how. What are Vivian and Lamar initially attracted to in each other?
4. Lamar Clark is nicknamed “the Dictator of Waynesboro” by some of the town’s residents. Did you see any of his actions as dictatorial? Share some examples of behavior that might have caused Lamar to earn this title. How do you think he was influenced by growing up impoverished? What did you think of Lamar? Did you learn anything about Lamar that you found surprising? Discuss your discoveries with your book club.
5. While Lamar is upset each time Vivian gives birth to a girl, she “adored each new baby, and vowed to be a different kind of mother than the one she’d endured.” Describe Vivian’s childhood. What was her mother like? Does Vivian succeed in mothering in a different way than her own mother? If so, how? Compare Vivian’s style of parenting to her mother’s and to Tena’s.
6. Describe Tena’s reaction when she first sees Virgie. Were you surprised? Why do you think that Tena is so unwelcoming to Virgie? Rather than ignore Tena’s tantrum, Virgie kneels down in front of Tena and speaks to her. Why? How does this help her gain Tena’s trust?
7. Although Tena wants her father to see her musical, once he is at the opening she “realize[s her] mistake in wanting him there, particularly at the opening.” Why does Tena think she has made an error in inviting her father? How does his presence affect the way she experiences the opening? How does Lamar react to the show and to Tena’s achievement? Why do you think attaining Lamar’s praise and approval is so important to Tena?
8. Tena begs Vivian to visit Lamar when he is on his deathbed. Why is it so important for Tena that Vivian makes this visit? Vivian tells Tena “I came here for me. Do you understand? I came here for me.” Explain her statement. How does the visit help Vivian achieve closure with regard to her relationship with Lamar?
9. According to Tena, hearing the name “Whitfield” is enough to strike “cold fear into the heart of every Mississippian.” Why? Describe Vivian’s reaction upon being taken there by Lamar. Tena says that, “for the first time in my life, I realized how much power Daddy had over all of us.” Explain her statement. Do you think that Tena and her sisters had any choice in going along with Lamar’s plan? Discuss the family dynamics.
10. When Vivian leaves Lamar, she tells Tena, “I have to go. If I don’t go now, I never will.” What prompts Vivian to leave Lamar? Why do you think Vivian stayed married to Lamar as long as she did? What sorts of obstacles does she face as a divorced woman in the South during the early 1960s? Did you think that Vivian was brave for leaving Lamar? Does Tena? Why or why not?
11. Tena recounts two instances where she attempted to eat with Virgie at Petty’s Cafe, one during segregation and one after segregation is illegal. Why does she include both in her memoir? Describe Virgie’s reaction to Tena’s gesture in each instance. Why is Tena excited to take Virgie to Petty’s after segregation has been outlawed? Why might Virgie be uncomfortable? How does Tena view her actions in hindsight?
12. When Vivian meets Tena’s fiancée, Dell, she warns Dell about marrying Tena, telling Dell that Tena is “the spittin’ image of Lamar Clark, and she’s gonna screw around on you the way her daddy done to me.” Why does Vivian think this about Tena? How does Tena feel about her mother’s statements? Do you think that Tena is like Lamar? If so, in what ways are they similar?
13. How does Tena’s
family react when she tells them that she is gay? Did you find any of their reactions surprising? If so, which ones and why? Explain your answer.
14. Tena says that “With Virgie . . . and all the other black folks in my life, I felt more me in my own skin.” Explain her statement. How do Virgie and the others put Tena at ease? Compare Tena’s life in her parents’ house with that of the families in Hiwannee. Why does Tena secretly wish that she could live in Hiwannee? How is Vigrie’s presence a stabilizing one for Tena?
15. As Tena gets older, she says her mother “time and again [tells her] she felt she . . . failed [in gift giving] because ‘Your Daddy can always buy you anything you want.’” Why is giving Tena a big birthday gift so important to Vivian? Does she succeed in getting Tena a meaningful gift? If so, what is it and why does it mean so much to Tena?
A Conversation with Tena Clark
Congratulations on the publication of your memoir Southern Discomfort! What has been the most rewarding part of publishing your memoir? Were there aspects of publishing that surprised you?
The process of going back in time and looking at the events and people that shaped my early years has been illuminating and difficult. It hasn’t always been an easy process. Telling the truth about your own life—the good, the bad, and the ugly, never is—but it’s been very healing for me. It’s also been wonderful to be in a kind of conversation again with my mother, my father, and Virgie. Writing about them has brought them back to life in a way, affording me the chance to say things to them now that I couldn’t say when they were alive.
Publishing this book has also forced me to reckon with all of my complicated feelings about Mississippi and the South. It’s a love-hate relationship for sure. It’s a beautiful place; it’s a tortured place. It’s a place trapped in a different time, it’s a place where real progress is possible. I’m not sure if I’ll ever wrap my head around Mississippi—it’s like a puzzle I’m still figuring out.
I’ve definitely shed a lot of tears as I looked back on my life, but this is a story that I feel needs to be told, and I’ve been waiting all my life to tell it. So it also feels like a weight has been taken off my shoulders.
You recount how your mother told you, “You write that book, but just wait until I’m dead.” When did you begin writing your memoir and why did you choose to publish it now? What do you think your mother would think about your memoir if she could read it?
In 1990, my father said something to me about our family that I knew to be a blatant lie, and in that moment, something inside me just snapped. I was traveling for work at the time and I remember sitting in my hotel room and not being able to sleep. So I turned on my tape recorder and decided I had to tell my story to myself. The truth as I knew it. Eight hours and over a hundred transcribed pages later, I felt like I had finally started the process toward healing. At the time, I thought of it as something I’d done just for myself, but then I ended up showing the pages to my mother. She read them in one sitting through tears. That’s when she said she wanted me to write a book about my life, but she asked me to wait until she died to have it published.
I filed the pages away and didn’t turn back to them until several years after my mother passed away. My daughter and several close friends had been after me to write a book about my life. Finally, I sat down and went through the document I’d shared with my mother. It was very rough, but it was the start I needed. The book progressed from there.
My mother was always a big supporter of my creative endeavors. When I was performing as a musician she was always my balcony person, cheering me on. She was, and remains, my number one fan. Even though she’s physically gone from this world, I still feel her presence with me all the time. She’s still my balcony person. I know she’d be proud to see Southern Discomfort in print, and I know she’d be especially thrilled to know if my book inspired even just one reader to live a more authentic life.
Has the rest of the family read it? If so, were you nervous to share it with them? What do they think of it?
As of this writing, my daughter is the only member of my immediate family who has read Southern Discomfort and she is so thrilled and proud. She’s an avid reader so her approval meant the world to me. My two surviving sisters have not read it yet, and I’m not sure if they ever will. I’m sure it’s difficult for them to relive those years and to know what I went through. I know they wish I had just “let it be,” as they say in the South. “Just let it be” was the refrain from my childhood. Don’t rock the boat, don’t go diggin’ up old bones. I hope and pray that they’ll come to understand why I couldn’t just bury my story out in the backyard in a box—that there’s a redemptive power in telling the truth, and then sharing it with others.
Did you find writing your memoir cathartic? Were there any sections that were particularly hard to write? Can you tell us about them?
Writing the memoir was an extremely cathartic experience for me. It was sacred and holy. That’s not to say it was always easy or pleasurable. From start to finish, this has been one of the most difficult journeys I’ve ever taken. I had to look at the South through a new lens. I had to examine painful moments that happened in my family. I had to look at my own motivations and assumptions, I had to confront my own privilege, and I had to expose the prejudices of the world in which I was raised. There were so many times during the writing process when I had to pick up the phone and call my best friend, Burke, and ask: “Did this really happen? Was it as crazy as I recall?” And he’d always say: “Yes, Tena. Only it was even crazier!” I’m grateful to have close friends from that time who are still in my life and who have been supportive of me.
Writing this book has also helped me see that my childhood wasn’t all doom and gloom. There are many things that were magical about growing up in rural Mississippi. The smell of magnolia in the summer, riding horses bareback through the fields, the sound of Virgie’s gentle humming, the look on my mother’s face when she was singing . . .
That said, a flood of painful memories also surfaced during this process. I had to relive my mother’s alcoholism and confront my father’s dichotomies. My dad was the most complicated man I’ve ever known. Truly. I know he loved me, and I believe he tried to care for me the best way he knew. But he was the ultimate gaslighter. As readers will see, even his racism was extremely complicated, and not in the way you might expect.
I also had to go through the deaths of my parents and Virgie again and again while writing and revising this book. I still cry every time I think about their final days.
You’ve written and produced Grammy Award–winning music, worked with iconic artists, and written the theme song for NASA. Did your previous creative experiences help you when it came to writing Southern Discomfort? How was writing your memoir different?
Songwriting and memoir writing are similar in that in order to work well they need to be complete narratives with a strong voice and sense of rhythm, and a clear beginning, middle, and end. Other than that, they are two very different worlds and two very different crafts. A song is three to four minutes, and the lyrics usually spill out of me in one day. Writing this book took three years of active work. It took me a good year to find the right voice, one year to focus the narrative, and another year of revision.
You recount scenes from your childhood so vividly. How were you able to do so? Can you tell us about writing process?
In my experience, Southerners are natural storytellers—and most tend to be longwinded too! We can’t just tell you we went to the store to buy a loaf of bread; we have to recount every little thing that happened from the moment we left the house. Make a long story longer, that’s our motto.
I do have a vivid memory, especially when it comes to sensorial details and imagery. I can remember how our local cafe smelled for lunch everyday, and the way Virgie’s skin felt scratching my back. I can still see the color of the trees outside my fifth grade classroom the day Kennedy was shot. I can remember so much of what happened fifty to sixty yea
rs ago. Unfortunately, my short-term memory is shot. I cannot remember where my phone, keys, or glasses are, but I can remember exactly what I was wearing the day my mother left, on my tenth birthday. I wonder sometimes if childhood trauma causes certain painful memories to embed in our brains even more than the beautiful times and moments. I’ve always remembered with detail colors, smells, expressions, surroundings of moments.
As far as my process goes, I’ve never been able to just sit down and write on demand. Whether I’m working on a song or an article or a chapter in my book, the words have to come when they come, unbidden. I cannot force them. When they do surface, I find I can disappear into writing for days. I get in my groove and don’t come up for air. And then I hit a wall and put the work away for a week, and then go back to it. I know many writers who say they have to write every single day, but that’s not how I am. I go in bursts.
You’ve been an activist from an early age, from standing up to the Ku Klux Klan to insisting that Petty’s Cafe uphold laws that made segregation illegal. What did you learn from your early attempts at activism? Do you have advice for people who are looking to become activists?
One of my earliest memories was secretly watching, with great awe, President Kennedy’s landmark speech on civil rights on June 11, 1963. The whole speech resonated with me, but this part stuck with me in particular: