As long as I've been alive, I've never "looked up" to the men who line Monument Avenue. I never thought they were heroes. To me, they were fighting for slavery, for hatred. Some people debate over "states' rights" as the reason behind the Civil War; I find it pointless because it is nothing more than a way to whitewash (pun intended) the truth.
These men were fighting against the notion that all men and women—not just the white men in power, and the women who stood beside them—deserve the life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness our forefathers supposedly fought for. They wanted to continue the practice of enslaving black men and women, of protecting whiteness. I will never see a Confederate flag or monument and separate it from a history of white supremacy no matter how often I'm told it's about "heritage."
Last Friday in Charlottesville, white supremacists descended upon the town—and of the University of Virginia—to denounce the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee from a city park. With tiki torches in hand, signs and flags depicting racist and homophobic slogans and Nazi salutes aplenty, the group began to clash with antifa, BLM and other groups protesting the planned "Unite the Right" rally. Those clashes continued on Saturday morning when a domestic terrorist drove into the crowd on the mall, resulting in one death and countless injuries.
To my fellow Virginians and Richmonders who have stood so strongly in their refusal to see our Confederate monuments for what they are, I ask you: What does this say about our heritage?
These men and women were not in Charlottesville because of the elimination of "Southern culture and history," but rather reacting to their own deluded notions that white people are losing control of our country. When men shout out "Jew will not replace us" in front of a statue of Robert E. Lee, what does that say about your symbol of Southern heritage?
When these people brandish Nazi symbols and scream "fuck you faggots" in front of these monuments, what does it say about a historical figure who supposedly stood up against a tyrannical government to protect his land?
The South lost the war. And yet, over a century later, here we are. This time, though, it's clear this never had anything to do with states' rights or "Southern pride." It is about racism, intolerance and hatred. And at the center of it all are symbols that, despite the well-intended Southern narratives that have failed to reframe them as anything else, are the strongest representation of racism in our country's history.
