The New Southern Belle

In the Lowcountry, grace grace and grit lives side by side—in the marshes at dusk and dawn, in the quiet of the deer stand, and in camaraderie around the dinner table. The new Southern belles don’t just wear pearls; they wear camouflage. They are mothers, teachers, professionals, and conservationists who find beauty in both the stillness and the thrill of the hunt. For Andrea Julius, Brittany Livingston and Christine Ronco, the outdoors isn’t a proving ground—it’s a space where they belong and thrive.

According to the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources (SCDNR), about 12 percent of hunting and fishing lisence applicants over the past five years were female. In the latest fiscal year tally (July 2024 – June 2025) that percentage rose slightly for a total of 21,072 applicants.

Christine grew up in Maine, surrounded by hunters. “My grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles all hunted,” she says. “I’d tag along but never cared for it myself.” That changed after she moved south. “I went to a Quality Deer Management Association (QDMA, now called National Deer Association) conservation event with Andrea where I actually won a gun in a raffle. I called my dad, ‘What should I do?’ and he said, ‘Use it.’”

Fate, it seems, was working overtime. Two weeks later, Andrea won a gun at another QDMA event. For her, it was more curiosity than calling at first. “My family’s into fishing, not hunting. I was going through a divorce, had some free time, and thought, ‘Why not?’ 

They showed up to their first hunt in brand-new camo that should have been washed in non-scent detergent. “We were totally clueless,” Andrea shakes her head. “I had lotion on,” Christine chimes in. 

Again, luck—or instinct—was on Christine’s side. “That first night out, an eight-point buck came out. Biggest I’ve ever seen in South Carolina. I took the shot.” And Andrea’s first deer? A nine-point. 

For Brittany, the call of the outdoors came later in life, too. “I wasn’t into hunting growing up,” she says. “Then I met my husband, who grew up hunting and fishing, and I just joined in. My first big buck was in October, 2020.”

They harvest everything they kill. “We cook venison three, four nights a week,” Brittany says. “Tacos, spaghetti, stuffed peppers, you name it. My four-year-old eats deer meat and he doesn’t know the difference.”

That connection—to food, to family, to nature—is what all three women emphasize. “When I’m in the field I’m not thinking about what I’m killing. I’m thinking about what I’m making next, how I’ll share recipes and meals with family and friends,” explains Christine. “Growing up in Maine, we had freezers full of meat. ‘Organic’ wasn’t a movement —it was just what we ate.”

Andrea’s venison chili came in second at her work’s Annual Chilli Cookoff. As a little girl, her now-teenage daughter used to keep her company in the deer stands with coloring books and binoculars to spot any movement. “It was important for me to teach her the value of hunting and share the calmness of the outdoors. These days, she eats venison and killed her first buck a few months ago. Now at dinner she asks, ‘Is this my meat we’re eating?’” 

These women embody conservation as much as sport. They’re active in groups like QDMA, Ducks Unlimited and SEWE, and take pride in educating others. “Sometimes hunting gets a bad rap because of reckless people,” Christine says. “But we teach our kids why we do it—respecting the land, the animal, the process. Being leaders in the woods.” She smiles, thinking about her female high school students proudly showing her pics of their harvests.

“You never know who you’re going to impact when you are having those outside conversations,” adds Brittany. Her immediate mission: to pass on a love for the land and all she has learned to her own kids. Making sure the land is still there for them to enjoy. 

As females, it’s empowering because the moments can be so big. “You’re in the quiet, listening to the squirrels jumping around on the sticks, the nuts falling, and you’re just waiting,” Brittany says, “It’s not just pulling the trigger—it’s the patience, watching the beauty of a graceful trot in, that kick of adrenaline, instinct, the self-reliance. It’s powerful.”

Christine agrees. “Women hunt differently. We’re methodical, more patient. We don’t overthink it—we feel it.”

That patience has led to some extraordinary moments. Brittany’s recent 12-foot, 597-pound alligator took two harpoons, “and a lot of nerves,” she says, grinning. Whether it’s alligators on the water in the dead of night, deer in Virginia, wild turkey or banded ducks in the Lowcountry, elk in Idaho or moose

in Maine, each hunt brings a new story—and a sense of connection. “Every time you go outside, something happens worth remembering,” adds Brittany. Bears, baby bobcats, mountain lion footprints as big as your own. It’s what keeps them coming back.

These are the new Southern belles: unafraid of mud or mascara, at ease in both waders and heels, accessorized with beanies and tassel earrings. They hunt not to prove a point, but because they love it—the passion, the food, the camaraderie, and the communion with something wild and real. Grace and grit, in perfect balance.