The monuments were just a decoration like lights on a Christmas tree, I felt nothing about them. Yes, I knew that they were statues of men from the Civil War. But to me they were just a bunch of dead white men who lost the war. Dead men on horses had no effect on me. I had even showed out of town guests our famous street that was considered one of the most beautiful streets in the world - or so I've been told. Richmond was the capital of the Confederacy so it seemed very normal that so many schools, streets, buildings, and establishments were named after Civil War "heroes." It was the controversy of the Arthur Ashe statue that made me think about the Confederate monuments. And after Charlottesville, the discussion of the removal of the monuments gave me pause. I had always believed that they monuments were left over from the Civil War, I had not cared enough to learn anything about them. But after I learned the history of them and the timing of their placement, I realized the sinister intentions. This was not history, it was hate. But even knowing this, I believed that they should stay and that context should be added. I believed that the money spent on their removal would be better spent in our public schools. While the discussions and the hemming and hawing were taking place, George Floyd was murdered, and during the subsequent demonstrations, context was added.
I drove the entire length of Monument Avenue, slowing down at each monument to observe the graffiti on each one and the fact that it had only been scrubbed off Arthur Ashe. I stopped at the Monument to Jefferson Davis. There was a place to pull in under a tree so I got out looked at it from across the street and took a picture. There were several others doing so as well. Then I drove down to the Lee Monument. I found a parking space under a tree near the Lee Medical Building. I had been in that building many times to see my dentist and never once even glanced at the monument. But yesterday, I was drawn to it.
I took my time and walked slowly around it, stopping to read the names and some of the stories of black men and women murdered by cops. (I intentionally won't use the word police.) There was a photo of each person and a memorial with tokens of affection. I took more pictures and looked at the crowd of people. They were of every race and age and most were quiet and thoughtful. Many people wanted to be photographed while sitting or standing on it and there were a lot of families with children. As I walked around it almost felt like it was sacred ground. There was something holy in names and faces of so many of my brothers and sisters. And just knowing that it was only a small representation of so many lives lost for the simple reason that they were black made it even more emotional.
As I was attempting, my meager selfie skills with the statue in the background, a white woman, probably my age or older offered to take my picture. As I stood on the third step there was a rush of emotions. I could feel the weight of my brothers and sisters but I also felt freedom. I felt like that this little patch of land that I had only seen sunbathers and Civil War re-enactors use, somehow belonged to me. I had a place there and my story had been written for the world to see. The context to the Civil War, had been added by the people. Yes, there were some obscenities, but much of it expressed the frustration and anger to a nation that was designed to enslave and dehumanize an entire race of people, based on the color of their skin.
As I walked back to my car, I couldn't help but to think about how this moment in history seemed different from so many other protests. This time, the world was watching and taking part. Now is the time to transition this moment into a movement. I was encouraged by the voter registration table and hope that everyone who stops by the monument will actually vote. Each of us has a responsibility to keep up the momentum and move beyond the protesting. We need to contact and/or meet with elected officials and members of the police department to express our needs and push for a plan of action. A statement saying Black Lives Matter, is not good enough. We need action to change the policies that are discriminatory and racist. We need to boycott businesses that we know don't have our interest in mind and we need to support black owned businesses. We must teach our children and grandchildren about our history, including the history of our families - the good, the bad, and the ugly. And we can't afford to shrink back from the hard conversations about race with people of all races. All of those photos. All of our brothers and sisters that have died and continue to die every day. This is not the time to be quiet. And I'm tired of waiting for change. It's time to make it happen!