A letter to my hometown.

I started writing this a few weeks ago, when the topic of racism first gained its momentum. It’s an odd thing to be fervently against racism in a predominantly white town. A town that helped shape you, and gave you life long bonds. Friendships were made here, whom I’ve met with, discussed, educated, and loved through these tough circumstances. It’s even harder when you know the reputation your town has. You want to say something, anything, so that the next generation doesn’t have to learn the hard way, or become oblivious to the world around them.

But then in just one moment, you realize you didn’t speak up. 

You didn’t help anyone by not addressing the problems head on.

And honestly, you may have failed the next generation.

When the reputation of your town is put on display, a reputation that is not new to scandals or to conflict, you have no choice but to denounce your approval of that reputation and actions of the ignorant.

So here it is: a letter to my hometown. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

My Dear Hometown,

It’s time we had a talk, and a hard one at that.

I’ve struggled with words for you during this time, but it’s clearer than ever that I must say something.

First of all, I love you. You’re a sweet, small town, with some of the most loving people I’ve ever known. But, we’d be lying to ourselves, especially in light of yesterday’s incident, if we didn’t think we had our own demons within.

Many would tell me to leave you or abandon you, but I haven’t been able to quite pull myself away. That’s mostly because of your security, which I hold dear, but honestly, a lot of it is because I don’t want to see you fail. I want to see you change and grow over time. I want to see you succeed. I want others to know you, the home I get to love.

The truth is, I’ve been struggling with it all lately. Not because of anything other than the hatred I see, or the constant bickering. But yesterday, I and many other of the children you raised, were outraged. We were hurt. Many couldn’t understand how this kind of behavior would happen in our community. Sadly, I was not one of them. I’ve been burdened with wide open eyes, and I want you to see it more clearly, as well.

I want to say that we’re not the actions of a few, but I’m learning now that, for better or worse, the actions of few can affect the reputation of many, and we must address the flaws. So, I’ll start with the few things I’ve seen in 18 years of loving you. I’ve seen adult friends, now, still not fully understanding what actually occurred during The Civil Rights Movement. Recent events has made it hard for us to grasp the heartbreak, violence, and prejudice seen just fifty five years ago. We’ve had to have tough conversations, recently. I realize this is not all your fault. You did what you knew how to do. We’re adults now, with knowledge at our fingertips. We’re able to research, learn, grow, repent, and change from the comfort of our own homes. Sadly, after yesterday, I’m not sure that it is enough. It is not enough to let us learn once we are out of the school system, and wish for the best while we’re students. You see, we live in the digital age, and while all my sins may not be documented for the world, many of your children’s are. So, not knowing enough by the time they’re 18 is no longer an option, no matter where it’s taught. To my classmates, I saw some of you, if not most of you, stare me down when my black friend came to eat lunch with me in middle school. Most of you were in shock. I saw when you came to talk to me, when you never would have before, as if it was a chance to see something in a museum. I remember a dearly loved, now passed teacher, coming to check on us, and welcoming her. I remember that settled my nervousness. As a kid and an adult, I realize this was because we didn’t see minorities in our halls. But now, I’m scared that may be the problem to begin with. My innocent, sweet, 14 year old friend, was scared to come to visit me. When she asked if she would be the only black person there, I couldn’t lie to her, even though I wanted to so badly. Even in middle school, I knew how uncomfortable it would be for her. She never visited again. Hometown, I really don’t blame you for this one, and I promise neither I, nor she, is bitter. But I think this was the first time I was fully aware of how, as my daddy would say “a box of rice in a snow storm”, white we all were/are. It’s not bad to be white, just as it’s not bad to be any person of color. But, I think this is where we have to talk about how this doesn’t help us fully understand racial issues. We never saw them first hand. When I realized we never saw issues because we were never exposed, my heart broke a little more. I saw black students join our classes, and become highly noticeable to the entire school. I vividly remember once watching each minority being excused from class to take a group picture to represent diversity in our school. I watched as they felt out of place, knowing there was no one who looked like them, even if some tried to make them feel at home. I remember forcing myself to believe “It sucks they don’t feel welcome”, and I remember the gut wrenching feeling I would get when they would leave. Not one black person graduated with my class, though several came in and out of our classrooms over the years I heard racist whispers when friends and classmates were dating boys and girls of color, both during and after graduation. I remember feeling sad because they were scared of your opinion if they brought them to town, or God forbid, brought them prom. On the flip side, I remember some congratulating them for their strength to bring a Black person, and that doesn’t exactly sit right with me either. Why do we get an opinion on anyone’s date, either way? I know that this is not only an issue in our community, and it’s much worse in others, as I’ve heard my family speak about segregated proms well into this millennium. But again, I just hate it was here. I heard friends tell me of their family lineage, including my own, that we weren’t exactly proud of. It was always kind of brushed over in peer conversations, that our ancestors may have played a large part in the broken heart of so many. When racism was brought up, it was much of “well I am not racist“. I don’t think that helped either. I know that’s not your fault completely, but I hate that it happened within your walls.

And then yesterday, it all punched me in the gut, when I remembered the few, our few, who could have ended up with their statements all over our screens. Almost like a PTSD flashback, I remembered that I heard the n-word and normalizing racism from classmates, too. I’ve been told I’m a hyper aware soul, so I don’t blame you if you didn’t see it. Or maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to. Yesterday, I cried when I remembered I saw white faces and racism every. single. day, and as much as we all claim to hate it, it is still here. For almost 20 years, I battled myself for so long, until I convinced myself that “well, as long as ‘they’ don’t see the racism, it’s not hurting anyone”. Until I learned that’s not how the world works. Not then, and definitely not now. When you make a video, one done so flippantly and callously, as the one I saw yesterday, it is not the first time you’ve said those words. To know that word is offensive to so many, to say it with no care of consequences on camera, it tells me that we failed them. WE failed them. Me and you, hometown. We failed by pretending it wasn’t an issue. We failed it by ignoring the instances we’ve all seen. We failed by not giving them opportunities to see people who that word affects. We failed them, before they could ever leave us. We can place the blame on parents all we want, but when children are acting correctly, we claim them, we celebrate their successes as our own, and say “it takes a village”. We don’t get to pretend our village doesn’t exist when there are bad outcomes. And yesterday, our village failed. And I know we have to do better. These kids need to know consequences, before they do leave us, and learn that being called a racist or losing privileges is the most minor of the things that could, and very well may, happen to them outside of our protection. They need to know right from wrong, and they have to know there are consequences for vocalizing hate. We’ve seen adults lose jobs this week for less than this, right in our own area. They need to know this is not acceptable, and will not be tolerated. But, quite frankly, I want to tell them I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t change the culture enough for you to know what will happen when you say those words. I’m sorry we gave you social media, and didn’t engrave it in your brain hard enough that Snapchat doesn’t disappear like you think it will. I am not sorry you were caught, but I am sorry for the toxic combination I played a part in by not speaking up sooner. These kids need to be given education and space to grow, before we send them out into a world that is not 99% white. They need to be able to ask questions and make statements, and be met with outside perspectives. Preferably, not online, and definitely not through threats. We all need that. I’m praying these kids get that. I’m praying their parents get that. I’m praying our community gets that.

If you get anything out of this, please let it be that I am always praying for my own and other‘s hearts to change.

Do not mistake my hope for sympathy. I hope for consequences just as much as I hope for change of hearts. We can be better. We have to be better. Whether we like it or not, the spotlight is on us to be. Racism with no physical victim present is still racism, and silence when it is brought to your attention is complacency. We are now in a very scary time where racism and bullying can be done online. Victims may never be physically present, and still be cut just as deep. Racism, in any form, is wrong. Period. A teacher from this very town taught me, “Your character is who you are when your back is against the wall”. When you may have no consequences, when no one can see behind the closed doors, that’s where your character shines. Let me tell you, if there’s ever been a time where that statement can be seen, it’s right now. And the scary thing is, we may all have consequences, even if we didn’t commit the crime. My heart is hurting, bleeding, and crying out, because now I fully understand what they mean by the silent majority. That’s probably why I’ve been screaming about anti-racism for the last couple of weeks. Because I now understand, that I played a part in it, no ifs-ands-buts about it. If we really take a look in the mirror, after our pride and defense is no more, maybe we can admit we all did. PLEASE do not get me wrong. From the bottom of my heart, I do truly love you, my beautiful hometown. This is not what this letter is. I love you, and that is why I have chosen to stay. It’s why I’ve chosen to start a family here. Because I KNOW we can do better. It may get uncomfortable or scary, but we have to make sure incidents like yesterday are not met with “of course. It’s THAT town”. We HAVE to try to prevent that. Our reaction cannot be “This isn’t the town I love”. That’s not how change happens. It has to be “This IS the town I love, and I want to be a part of the solution”. This is the town I stayed in because if growth is going to continue here, I want to be here to see it and celebrate it with you. I’ve seen us ban together in times of struggle and celebration. Ive seen us support one another’s dreams and aspirations. I’ve seen us become doctors, nurses, blue collar workers, teachers, business owners, social workers, journalist, ministerial staff, amazing moms and dads, and so many other wonderful things. I’ve seen us rally around the sick or the hurting. I’ve seen us come together when we lose someone who we may have not seen in a decade. I’ve seen many leave, and still love this town with their whole heart. I’ve seen many leave, and come back, and be petrified of the things they learned once they did. We don’t just get to claim eachother for the good. We have to claim eachother when it’s bad, too. We are not perfect. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made so many mistakes and learned hard lessons that have shaped me. Things that I haven’t even been able to say sorry for yet. But that’s how character is built, right? We have to admit our mistakes. If we pretend we’re perfect, without striving to fix the things that aren’t, we’ll miss the lessons and the growth along the way. I do not hate my hometown; my heart is broken for it. I’m begging for it to see the racism we have within it, obviously alive and well, and how we choose not to address it, until it is in our faces. I loved my time in those schools. I love the friendships I made over those 13 years. But we all know reputation that we have because we attended it, and we must prove them wrong.  I don’t pride myself in attending the “preppy, racist, white school”, and I hope to God no one does. Our town and school had that reputation long before yesterday. I don’t pride myself in having to explain “I went there, but I don’t think like you think I do”. I don’t pride myself in meeting people since graduation, that have told me the stories of why they left our town, or the hurt some of my friends have that left along the way. After yesterday, I have lots of shame and disappointment for my alma mater. But just as with any relationship, the feelings are complicated. While I’m shameful of actions taken, I pride myself in the love we had and have for eachother, the times we came together in trouble, for the teachers who did right by us, and the education we received. But y’all, we are a predominantly white town, with very little to no poverty, and a very tiny percentage of people of color within. Most of us had everything we ever needed, and never had to face the realities of what happens outside of our two red light town. If you can’t recognize that first, then it’s hopeless. Without consequences, growth, and education, we will continue to have kids make mistakes like these, with our reputation at the forefront. We are stronger, better, more loving than this moment, or at least I hope we are. So, PLEASE, if you don’t have a black person in your life who you love, go make new friends.  Let them know that you don’t stand for this kind of behavior. I would say ask them how you can teach your kids and community to be better, but many of the black people in my life are tired of explaining it to us. Many have what I’m calling “white people education fatigue”. They’ve been trying to teach us. But we didn’t make it our problem, until we had no choice. So now, it is our responsibility to educate ourselves and each other. We have the internet. We have documentaries. We have books. We have so many resources to teach ourselves. But none of that matters if you don’t love someone who looks and thinks differently than you.  Humanize the issue. Humanize racism and prejudice. That is how we grow. And incase I didn’t make it clear, for the love, do not say the n word if you are not black. Love,  A truly hopeful alum