From my Facebook friend, Christy Schafer
Did I ever tell you about how, when I was living in DC, I had this boyfriend who had gone to school in Richmond and the Saturday after 9/11, wanted to drive down because that's where he felt safe? We drove down, and as we approached, I noticed the slow transition from thousands of US flags to thousands of Confed. flags. By the time we hit Richmond, my already horrified and traumatized self was about ready to crawl into the trunk. He drove me around town, and there were statues seemingly everywhere.
"You have to understand, this was the Confederate capitol."
This was my first time encountering Confederate statues, despite being brought up in part in North Miami, which is (ostensibly) The South.
I got Looks from people, and when he asked if I wanted to get out at a park and walk around, I looked up at the huge statue (Davis), and said, "No, not so much," and waited for him in the car.
I was a grown up woman at the time. Brownish.
So, when people tell me about how, as black kids, they had to walk by these monuments to "great men" every damn day and it made them feel threatened, less-than, expendable, I have *an inkling*, but only just. Trying to explain the statues around here (New Orleans) to my own kid was difficult, and I was always careful about explaining it to him quietly if we were in public. Having to explain them as a black parent? I have been told about it, but I still cannot imagine it except to take on a general feeling of outrage, sadness, and horror at the very idea.
People say they're just statues, or they're part of history, or whatever. But for the people *at whom they are aimed* they are a constant reminder that their rights, their lives, are expendable and that there are people who would love to go back to those "good old days".
Today we're hearing about "beautiful statues" from the White House. The White House. Make no mistake, I have zero illusions about US justice, or that equality has been reached, but also make no mistake - This message is being sent out loud and clear *again*: Your lives don't matter.
It's not just iron, marble, copper, or steel. Taking them down is not the erasure of history; it's an attempt at shutting up a collective bully who has been allowed to hang out on the street corner for decades shouting the worst epithets and goading people into the worst actions.
