Down here in the South, storytelling is practically a sport. We like our tales like we like our tea: sweet, a little strong, and best served with company on the front porch. Landon Bryant’s been serving up just that — except his front porch happens to be the entire internet.
You may already know him from his “let’s discuss…” videos that make you laugh, nod, and say, well, that’s the truth. Now, he’s bringing that same wit and wisdom to Good Grit. In every issue, Landon will unpack the wonderfully weird, charmingly complicated, and endlessly debated questions about Southern life.
Learn why your grandma double-named you, whether you’ve been properly blessed (or shaded) when someone says “bless your heart,” and where to find the world’s best fried chicken (hint: it may share an address with a gas pump).
I’m delighted to officially say: Y’all, let’s ask Landon!
Words by Landon Bryant
Why do Southerners say ‘bless your heart’… and how do I know if it’s a compliment or an insult?
“Bless your heart” is the Swiss Army knife of Southern expressions. It can mean anything from “I’m so sorry your day was hard” to “Oh honey, you tried.” The South is fluent in subtext. The meaning hinges entirely on the delivery: Were they patting your arm? Were their eyebrows involved? Was there a pause so long you could drive a truck through it? If it’s said softly, with a look of concern—congrats, you’ve been loved on. If it’s said with a sip of sweet tea and a smirk? Well, friend, you might be the punch line. But here’s the beauty: Even our insults wear lace.
Is it y’all, ya’ll, or yall? And can one person be a y’all?
It’s y’all. No apostrophe after the “a,” no space, no substitutions. It’s short for “you all,” and it is, in my humble opinion, the most beautiful word in the English language. It’s inclusive, melodic, and has just the right amount of drawl. Traditionally, “y’all” refers to two or more people—but language is alive, and Southerners are nothing if not creative. If someone hollers “y’all” at a single person, they might be anticipating company, or maybe they’re just being extra friendly. Either way, it’s hospitality in contraction form.
Why do Southerners double-name everybody?
Double names are our way of adding rhythm and respect to the everyday. Mary Margaret, Billy Ray, Ellie Mae—each one sounds like the title of a country song or someone who’d show up in a Faulkner novel with a secret. It’s elegance meets familiarity. And it’s functional, too: It’s a diplomatic solution when both grandmothers insist on being honored. Plus, you know someone means business when they use your full double name. If you hear “John David Matthew!” shouted across a backyard, you’d best come running.
Down here in the South, storytelling is practically a sport. We like our tales like we like our tea: sweet, a little strong, and best served with company on the front porch.
Why do all the best Southern restaurants seem to be inside a gas station?
Because we know better than to judge a book by its cover—or a biscuit by its address. Some of the best fried chicken you’ll ever eat is sold within arm’s reach of windshield wiper fluid. These places are equal parts diner, pit stop, and cultural institution. You’ll find a rotating rack of Little Debbie snacks, a sassy lady named Loretta at the register, and a fry cook who could be a Michelin-star chef in another life. If there’s a line of pickup trucks outside and a hand-lettered sign that reads “catfish special,” go in. Trust me.
How do I pack for a Southern road trip when the weather app says 50 degrees Fahrenheit in the morning and 90 degrees Fahrenheit by lunch?
You pack like you’re preparing for a slow-motion natural disaster. Bring layers—lots of ‘em. Start with a hoodie, strip down to a T-shirt, have a rain jacket handy, and don’t forget sunglasses and sunscreen because the UV index will betray you by noon. It’s not uncommon for your morning coffee to fog up your glasses outside in April. Think of your suitcase as a traveling wardrobe for four separate climates, and always, always bring backup deodorant.
When a local says, ‘Y’all come back now,’ do they mean it?
Yes, we do. We really do. It’s not filler. It’s not fluff. When we say “y’all come back now,” it means we enjoyed your company, we appreciated your presence, and we’re already imagining where you’ll sit next time. It’s our way of opening the door to a next chapter. So take it as an invitation—and maybe a tiny challenge. We dare you not to love it here enough to come back.
