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A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments: 

By Caroline Randall Williams
June 26, 2020

I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.

If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.

Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trumpand the Senate majority leader,Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.

I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.

According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.

It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.

What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?

You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.

And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.

This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.

But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.

Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.

To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.

The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.

Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.

Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.

Caroline Randall Williams(@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.

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A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments:  By Caroline Randall Williams June 26, 2020 I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blacknes

Her white ancestors were Democrats. We all know that. Take it up with them. My Northern Republican ancestors freed the slaves from the Democrats. Or did they? It's now called Democrat shackleless slav

What an ignorant piece of work, and how unfortunate it is that her white ancestors' intelligence never descended to her generation.   Slavery is the best thing that ever happened to her.

Quote

 

Her white ancestors were Democrats. We all know that. Take it up with them. My Northern Republican ancestors freed the slaves from the Democrats. Or did they? It's now called Democrat shackleless slavery.

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24 minutes ago, maineman said:

A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments: 

By Caroline Randall Williams
June 26, 2020

I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.

If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.

Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trumpand the Senate majority leader,Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.

I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.

According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.

It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.

What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?

You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.

And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.

This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.

But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.

Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.

To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.

The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.

Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.

Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.

Caroline Randall Williams(@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.

 

What an ignorant piece of work, and how unfortunate it is that her white ancestors' intelligence never descended to her generation.

 

Slavery is the best thing that ever happened to her.

 

Without it, SHE WOULDN'T BE HERE!

 

Instead, she'd be squatting on her haunches and eating bush-meat on the ground outside a mud hut in Sierra Leone, hoping the bush-meat does not contaminate her with the Ebola virus, and praying that the water she is drinking does not cause her to contract another case of cholera.  No Obamaphones.  No WIC.  No EBT.  No Section 8 housing.  NONE OF THAT!

 

But let's not let those FACTS mess up her fiction.

 

RIGHT?

 

 

 

 

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4 minutes ago, Mirabeau said:

 

 

 

Instead, she'd be squatting on her haunches and eating bush-meat on the ground outside a mud hut in Sierra Leone, hoping the bush-meat does not contaminate her with the Ebola virus, and praying that the water she is drinking does not cause her to contract another case of cholera.  No Obamaphones.  No WIC.  No EBT.  No Section 8 housing.  NONE OF THAT!

 

 

 

 

But she'd be free - one with nature. A goddess of the jungle. You must be able to visualize it. Prancing, hair plastered with mud, free of the chore of bathing. See, always an upside.

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1 minute ago, AnotherJim said:

But she'd be free - one with nature. A goddess of the jungle. You must be able to visualize it. 

And DREAMING of the day she could escape that African hellhole (redundancy) and make it to the good old U. S. A.!

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From an old article by Fred Reed:

Permit me a revisionist view of slavery.

I suggest that blacks ought to be grateful that their faster ancestors caught their slower ancestors -- which is exactly what happened -- and sold them to the Arab slavers. American blacks would otherwise be somewhere on the Slave Coast of Africa, barefoot, illiterate, blankly ignorant, wearing loincloths, living in stick huts that would give Eeyore the willies, and shuddering with malaria. That's what Africa is: primitive, hopeless, godawful. I've been in Masai hutments, spent time in the outback of Cuando Cubango. It's not Stone Age. It's more like Stick Age. No country in Africa today comes close, or ever has, to the culture of Fifth Century Athens, 2500 years ago.

Yes, slavery was brutal and ugly. It was, however, hard on the slaves, not on today's blacks. Slavery brought our blacks into contact with a vastly superior civilization from which they benefit enormously, and without the slightest gratitude. Everything blacks enjoy in this country today -- air-conditioning, writing, automobiles, television, medicine, welfare, everything -- they enjoy only because they were brought here. Further, they have contributed almost nothing to the industrial and technological flowering that has provided the benefits they enjoy.

I begrudge them none of this. I am, however, tired of endlessly being blamed for their problems.

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wow.  And people ON HERE say that racism is no longer a problem in America.

 

what color is the sky in their world?

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2 minutes ago, maineman said:

wow.  And people ON HERE say that racism is no longer a problem in America.

 

what color is the sky in their world?

FACTS are NEVER "racist," DUMBASS!

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I'm unclear on the purpose that Maineman wanted to accomplish by posting this tract here.  Could he make an explicit statement of whether he agrees with the statement he has reproduced, or is showing it off as an example of what "the other side" has to say?

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2 minutes ago, willpell said:

I'm unclear on the purpose that Maineman wanted to accomplish by posting this tract here.  Could he make an explicit statement of whether he agrees with the statement he has reproduced, or is showing it off as an example of what "the other side" has to say?

I was moved by the author's words... she can trace her lineage back four generations and all of her predecessors are black, but many of the black women in her ancestry were raped by white  slave owners.  She IS a living monument to the vile nature of the confederacy and the vile nature of those who would still want to revere those traitors

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4 minutes ago, maineman said:

I was moved by the author's words... she can trace her lineage back four generations and all of her predecessors are black, but many of the black women in her ancestry were raped by white  slave owners.  She IS a living monument to the vile nature of the confederacy and the vile nature of those who would still want to revere those traitors

TRAITORS??

 

You are either IGNORANT or a LIAR.

 

No . . . wait . . . you're BOTH, and Mirabeau can PROVE IT by asking you ONE question.

 

Where, in the Constitution of the United States of America, is the specific language PROHIBITING a state from seceding from the union?

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12 minutes ago, willpell said:

I'm unclear on the purpose that Maineman wanted to accomplish by posting this tract here.  Could he make an explicit statement of whether he agrees with the statement he has reproduced, or is showing it off as an example of what "the other side" has to say?

Hell, he doesn't know.

 

One of his handlers ordered him to post it.

 

It's no more complicated than that.

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1 hour ago, maineman said:

A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments: 

By Caroline Randall Williams
June 26, 2020

I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.

If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.

Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trumpand the Senate majority leader,Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.

I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.

According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.

It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.

What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?

You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.

And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.

This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.

But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.

Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.

To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.

The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.

Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.

Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.

Caroline Randall Williams(@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.

 

You should not have a say in what happens to those statues unless you live in that community. 

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Just now, Mirabeau said:

TRAITORS??

 

You are either IGNORANT or a LIAR.

 

No . . . wait . . . you're BOTH, and Mirabeau can PROVE IT by asking you ONE question.

 

Where, in the Constitution of the United States of America, is the specific language PROHIBITING a state from seceding from the union?

If I were Lincoln, I would have let you go.... 

 

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Just now, maineman said:

If I were Lincoln, I would have let you go.... 

 

So, you CAN'T answer the question Mirabeau posed.

 

Oh . . . yes. 

 

One other thing.

 

If you were Lincoln, John Wilkes Booth would have shot you.

 

Can you say, "Win/Win?"

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2 minutes ago, Mirabeau said:

So, you CAN'T answer the question Mirabeau posed.

 

Oh . . . yes. 

 

One other thing.

 

If you were Lincoln, John Wilkes Booth would have shot you.

 

Can you say, "Win/Win?"

I think people who take up arms to tear apart the United States of America are traitors.

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Just now, maineman said:

I think people who take up arms to tear apart the United States of America are traitors.

FAIL!

 

You have NOT answered the question posed by Mirabeau.

 

Why can't you answer it?

 

Are you IGNORANT as to the contents of the Constitution of the United States of America?

 

 

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1 minute ago, maineman said:

I think people who take up arms to tear apart the United States of America are traitors.

So, the members of Black Lives Matters, Antifa, and Occupy Wall Street are traitors?

 

GOOD FOR YOU!

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3 minutes ago, maineman said:

I think people who take up arms to tear apart the United States of America are traitors.

This is not about what an ignoramus like you "thinks."

 

This is about FACTS.

 

Now, ANSWER THE QUESTION MIRABEAU POSED!

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2 minutes ago, Mirabeau said:

FAIL!

 

You have NOT answered the question posed by Mirabeau.

 

Why can't you answer it?

 

Are you IGNORANT as to the contents of the Constitution of the United States of America?

 

 

I know what the constitution says... and it does not allow for insurgent forces to attack United States installations (Fort Sumpter) without a response.

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2 minutes ago, maineman said:

I know what the constitution says... and it does not allow for insurgent forces to attack United States installations (Fort Sumpter) without a response.

FAIL!

 

You have NOT answered the question posed to you by Mirabeau!

 

Why are you squirming and dissembling?

 

(Have someone look up that last word for you,)

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Just now, Mirabeau said:

FAIL!

 

You have NOT answered the question posed to you by Mirabeau!

 

Why are you squirming and dissembling?

 

(Have someone look up that last word for you,)

I stand by my statements.  The CSA did not have to fire upon Fort Sumpter to secede.  When they did, the started the war.

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Just now, maineman said:

I stand by my statements.  The CSA did not have to fire upon Fort Sumpter to secede.  When they did, the started the war.

FAIL!

 

You have NOT answered the question posed by Mirabeau!

 

 

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2 hours ago, maineman said:

A true daughter of the confederacy has written what should be the last words on the monuments: 

By Caroline Randall Williams
June 26, 2020

I have rape-colored skin. My light-brown-blackness is a living testament to the rules, the practices, the causes of the Old South.

If there are those who want to remember the legacy of the Confederacy, if they want monuments, well, then, my body is a monument. My skin is a monument.

Dead Confederates are honored all over this country — with cartoonish private statues, solemn public monuments and even in the names of United States Army bases. It fortifies and heartens me to witness the protests against this practice and the growing clamor from serious, nonpartisan public servants to redress it. But there are still those — like President Trumpand the Senate majority leader,Mitch McConnell — who cannot understand the difference between rewriting and reframing the past. I say it is not a matter of “airbrushing” history, but of adding a new perspective.

I am a black, Southern woman, and of my immediate white male ancestors, all of them were rapists. My very existence is a relic of slavery and Jim Crow.

According to the rule of hypodescent (the social and legal practice of assigning a genetically mixed-race person to the race with less social power) I am the daughter of two black people, the granddaughter of four black people, the great-granddaughter of eight black people. Go back one more generation and it gets less straightforward, and more sinister. As far as family history has always told, and as modern DNA testing has allowed me to confirm, I am the descendant of black women who were domestic servants and white men who raped their help.

It is an extraordinary truth of my life that I am biologically more than half white, and yet I have no white people in my genealogy in living memory. No. Voluntary. Whiteness. I am more than half white, and none of it was consensual. White Southern men — my ancestors — took what they wanted from women they did not love, over whom they had extraordinary power, and then failed to claim their children.

What is a monument but a standing memory? An artifact to make tangible the truth of the past. My body and blood are a tangible truth of the South and its past. The black people I come from were owned by the white people I come from. The white people I come from fought and died for their Lost Cause. And I ask you now, who dares to tell me to celebrate them? Who dares to ask me to accept their mounted pedestals?

You cannot dismiss me as someone who doesn’t understand. You cannot say it wasn’t my family members who fought and died. My blackness does not put me on the other side of anything. It puts me squarely at the heart of the debate. I don’t just come from the South. I come from Confederates. I’ve got rebel-gray blue blood coursing my veins. My great-grandfather Will was raised with the knowledge that Edmund Pettus was his father. Pettus, the storied Confederate general, the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, the man for whom Selma’s Bloody Sunday Bridge is named. So I am not an outsider who makes these demands. I am a great-great-granddaughter.

And here I’m called to say that there is much about the South that is precious to me. I do my best teaching and writing here. There is, however, a peculiar model of Southern pride that must now, at long last, be reckoned with.

This is not an ignorant pride but a defiant one. It is a pride that says, “Our history is rich, our causes are justified, our ancestors lie beyond reproach.” It is a pining for greatness, if you will, a wish again for a certain kind of American memory. A monument-worthy memory.

But here’s the thing: Our ancestors don’t deserve your unconditional pride. Yes, I am proud of every one of my black ancestors who survived slavery. They earned that pride, by any decent person’s reckoning. But I am not proud of the white ancestors whom I know, by virtue of my very existence, to be bad actors.

Among the apologists for the Southern cause and for its monuments, there are those who dismiss the hardships of the past. They imagine a world of benevolent masters, and speak with misty eyes of gentility and honor and the land. They deny plantation rape, or explain it away, or question the degree of frequency with which it occurred.

To those people it is my privilege to say, I am proof. I am proof that whatever else the South might have been, or might believe itself to be, it was and is a space whose prosperity and sense of romance and nostalgia were built upon the grievous exploitation of black life.

The dream version of the Old South never existed. Any manufactured monument to that time in that place tells half a truth at best. The ideas and ideals it purports to honor are not real. To those who have embraced these delusions: Now is the time to re-examine your position.

Either you have been blind to a truth that my body’s story forces you to see, or you really do mean to honor the oppressors at the expense of the oppressed, and you must at last acknowledge your emotional investment in a legacy of hate.

Either way, I say the monuments of stone and metal, the monuments of cloth and wood, all the man-made monuments, must come down. I defy any sentimental Southerner to defend our ancestors to me. I am quite literally made of the reasons to strip them of their laurels.

Caroline Randall Williams(@caroranwill) is the author of “Lucy Negro, Redux” and “Soul Food Love,” and a writer in residence at Vanderbilt University.

Sad democrats started and lost the civil war... then they founded the KKK

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1 hour ago, Mirabeau said:

FAIL!

 

You have NOT answered the question posed by Mirabeau!

 

 

Of course I did.... you just don’t like my answer.

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