When I got the phone call last weekend that our mayor was going
to request the removal of the Confederate statues, my first thoughts were that
I don't want the crazies here. I was upset at him for putting us in a position
that would invite the KKK and white supremacists to our city.
But then I started to reflect on what those statues mean and why
those statues have been unnoticed by me for the last 26 years I've lived in
Lexington. I worked in that courthouse for several years and probably could not
have told you who those men were that stood outside guarding the courthouse.
It's not that I don't know my history or appreciate my history. I don't
think anyone can say that we should forget what happened during the Civil War.
As I sat last night listening to people speak quite eloquently,
my mind went to my best friend from fourth grade who remains a very good friend
to this day. She and I grew up going to school together, spending the night at
each other's houses and gossiping about boys and our future. We grew up in a
world where this white girl and black girl could do those things together. But
the truth is our parents and grandparents could not.
I don’t know about slavery myself and I do not know if anyone in
my family ever owned slaves. And my
friend was never a slave herself, bought and sold. But most of her ancestors were.
Last night, I started to look at those statues through her eyes,
and tears came to my eyes.
My vote was because it was the right thing to do.
