For people of Charlottesville, a long year of reckoning
Residents of Charlottesville express almost universal opposition to the ideology of last summer's Unite the Right rally. But there are still divisions over the place of free speech and historic monuments in a city and country grappling with its heritage 鈥 and its future as a multicultural society. Last in a series of profiles of individuals whose lives were changed by Charlottesville.
Residents of Charlottesville express almost universal opposition to the ideology of last summer's Unite the Right rally. But there are still divisions over the place of free speech and historic monuments in a city and country grappling with its heritage 鈥 and its future as a multicultural society. Last in a series of profiles of individuals whose lives were changed by Charlottesville.
The best seats are already taken half an hour before the Charlottesville City Council is due to start.
With less than a week to go until Aug. 12, the anniversary of last year鈥檚 Unite the Right rally that devolved into violence, the city is braced for a reprise. Residents file in with signs bearing the name of the new African-American mayor, Nikuyah Walker, and her slogan, 鈥淯nmask the illusion.鈥 Others say simply, 鈥淭ransparency.鈥 One woman, in front row, holds one that says, 鈥淧unish Nazi鈥檚 not residendts鈥 [sic] on one side and 鈥淎rrest Kessler鈥 on the other, referring to organizer Jason Kessler. 聽
When Ms. Walker walks in, the crowd claps and cheers. There are scattered boos and hisses when she is followed by her predecessor and fellow city councilmember Mike Signer, who was mayor during last year鈥檚 protests and the consequent fallout.
By the time the meeting kicks off with the Pledge of Allegiance, the room is packed. As everyone says, 鈥溾 liberty and justice for all,鈥 someone says loudly, 鈥淎ll?鈥
Over the next five hours, residents step up to confront the city council and new police chief, RaShall Brackney, the first African-American woman appointed to the job, with questions about the coming weekend. It鈥檚 clear there鈥檚 a lot that hasn鈥檛 been resolved since last year, especially around accountability.
鈥淭hey have to do a 聽full thorough investigation of everything that occurred ... and come up with some type of way to move forward,鈥 says Tanesha Hudson, a longtime community organizer who attended the meeting. 鈥淲e鈥檙e nowhere near any type of healing or moving forward.鈥
The tense meeting at City Hall is in many ways a microcosm of a city still grappling with the fallout from last year鈥檚 protests, which exposed fault lines along class and race in this quiet college town 鈥撀燼s well as the nation. Even as white activists have sought to become more effective allies in the fight for racial justice, and African-Americans have watched their white neighbors wake up to issues they have long been acquainted with, few are ready to talk about rebuilding or reconciliation.
And while almost universal opposition is expressed to the ideology espoused by the white supremacists and white nationalists who marched into Charlottesville last summer, there are still divisions over the place of free speech and historic monuments in a city and country grappling with its heritage 鈥 and its future as a multicultural society.
This is the story of what last year鈥檚 rally meant to the people of Charlottesville, how it changed their lives and outlooks, and how they鈥檙e striving to address the divisions the protests exposed 鈥撀爄ndividually, and as a community.
鈥淭his isn鈥檛 a fight you get into for six months, or a year,鈥 says Ms. Hudson, her voice hoarse after staying at City Hall until 12:30 a.m. 鈥淭his is a fight you get into and you go 10 toes deep into it, and you can鈥檛 let go.鈥
Hudson is working on a documentary, 鈥淎 Legacy Unbroken,鈥 to tell the city鈥檚 untold stories about people of color. Zoe Padron, a high school teacher, has lost her fear of getting fired and is pushing her mainly white students to consider the different ways racism manifests itself 鈥 not just interpersonal bigotry, but systemic injustice, too.
Sarah Kenny, the University of Virginia student body president at the time of the protests, wrote her senior thesis on the role of women in the alt-right, and intends to study conflict resolution in graduate school. Newly minted College Republican chairman Robert Andrews, a distant relative of Robert E. Lee, is planning to hold bipartisan dialogs on campus this year.
Charles Weber, a local criminal defense attorney and spokesman for The Monument Fund, is among the plaintiffs in the Fund鈥檚 legal challenge to preserve historical monuments 鈥 including the statue of Lee whose proposed removal precipitated last year鈥檚 protests.
And Mr. Signer, the former mayor, has spent a lot of time reflecting.
鈥淎s horrible as the experience was, and as violent, and as brutalizing for the people who live in my city, physically and emotionally,鈥 he says, 鈥淚 think that to the extent that the event lifted the veil on the violence at the heart of this marginal political movement 鈥 it served a purpose in waking the country up.鈥
Through the eyes of a 4-year-old
Seth Wispelwey鈥檚 daughter was 4 when he took her to a Smithsonian exhibit on 50 years since the civil rights movement, and 150 years since the end of slavery in America. The exhibits at her eye level included black children shackled in chains.
Soon after, he recounts, he was taking her to the library in Charlottesville, right next to the park where stands the soaring statue of the Confederate general.
She asked, 鈥淲ho is that a statue of?鈥
He told her, 鈥淥h, you remember that war we talked about? The one that ultimately ended up in the ending of slavery? Well, he was a general in that war.鈥
And she said, 鈥淥h, so he fought for the side that wanted to free all the slaves?鈥
No, he explained, Virginia was part of the South. 鈥淲e seceded, so he actually fought for the side that wanted to maintain slavery,鈥 he said.
There was a long pause.
鈥淪o why is there a statue then?鈥
He didn鈥檛 have an answer.
鈥淪o this is where I don鈥檛 get when people are like, 鈥極h, it鈥檚 just a statue,鈥 鈥 says Mr. Wispelwey, a pastor with the United Church of Christ. 鈥淚t tells a story, and all you have to do is have the eyes of a 4-year-old or a 5-year-old to understand that 鈥 monuments and statues valorize our values.鈥
It was teenage activist Zyahna Bryant鈥檚 petition that led the city council to vote to remove the statues of Lee and fellow Confederate general Thomas 鈥淪tonewall鈥 Jackson, and sparked last summer鈥檚 Unite the Right rally.
More than 600 white supremacists, neo-Nazis, and white nationalists converged on Emancipation Park in Charlottesville, along with even larger crowds of counterprotesters. Brawls broke out, and counterprotester聽Heather Heyer was killed聽when a protester drove his Dodge Charger into a crowd, and 29 were injured. Two state troopers died in a helicopter crash that is still being investigated.
Mr. Weber and other conservatives in the city say they unequivocally denounce the protesters and their message.
Mr. Andrews, who was part of the College Republicans executive committee that put out a聽statement ahead of Aug. 12 denouncing the alt-right gathering, was dismayed to see protesters rallying around the statue of his ancestor and namesake, Lee.
鈥淗e would not condone any of these individuals鈥 actions,鈥 he says. 鈥淭hey tried to tie themselves to the statue and it was really wrong.鈥
鈥淣one of us at The Monument Fund supports anything that they do,鈥 agrees Weber, referring to the protesters. 鈥淲e鈥檙e focused on the law.鈥
Virginia state law makes it illegal 鈥渢o disturb or interfere with any monuments or memorials so erected.鈥 That applies not just to Confederate memorials, he stresses, but all memorials. He himself is a Vietnam veteran.
鈥淭here鈥檚 a powerful storyline of how this country came to be,鈥 says Weber, sitting in his quiet Charlottesville law office. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 think telling the full story requires us to throw all that out, any more than I think the quest for better forms of justice requires us to throw out the Constitution.鈥
鈥榃orse than anything we were told鈥
The weekend of Aug. 12, Signer says, was worse than anything he鈥檇 had to face before as mayor.
鈥淭he government was not aware they would come armed as a militia, with shields, insignias, command structures, and weaponry,鈥 Signer recalls.聽鈥淭hat was worse than anything that we were told.鈥
In the aftermath, the former mayor drew some praise for calling out President Trump for his rhetoric, which Signer said emboldened far-right activists.
But he was castigated when he tweeted, days after the rally, that Charlottesville was 鈥渂ack on our feet, and we鈥檒l be stronger than ever!鈥 The post included a photo of himself jumping in front of an oversized 鈥淟ove鈥 sign downtown.
鈥淚 saw my role as trying to cheerlead for the city and project an upbeat kind of, 鈥榃e鈥檒l be back, better than ever,鈥 message,鈥 Signer says.鈥淭o a lot of folks, and I get that now, it seemed like too much, too soon.鈥
In December, an independent report on the Charlottesville protests by a former US attorney for Western Virginia, Timothy Heaphy, found considerable fault with city government, particularly the Charlottesville Police Department.
鈥淲hen violence was most prevalent, CPD commanders pulled officers back to a protected area of the park, where they remained for over an hour as people in the large crowd fought on Market Street,鈥 the report said. It also quoted two close associates of Police Chief Al Thomas as hearing him say, 鈥淟et them fight.鈥
Chief Thomas, the first African-American appointed to the post, denied the comment but resigned.
In January, Signer declined to place himself on the ticket for reelection, instead voting for Ms. Walker, a local activist who was among his critics.
All this happened as Signer, who is Jewish, was facing a slew of anti-Semitic attacks. 鈥淪omeone sent me a cartoon of Robert E. Lee pushing the green button on a gas chamber with my face Photoshopped on it,鈥 he says.
Signer says he absolutely feels changed after the events of last summer.
鈥淚鈥檝e spent many, many months personally reflecting, praying, trying to listen to critiques more than praise,鈥 he says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 constant work, to make people feel heard in their anger and their disappointment, to not be defensive, to try and gain some wisdom that can help servant leadership in this really tough time.鈥
Stephen McDowell, a conservative who lives on the outskirts of Charlottesville, sees faith as the answer to that anger and hatred, which he says is the central problem to be addressed.
鈥淚f that鈥檚 not dealt with, you can never really deal with the problem of racism,鈥 says Mr. McDowell. 鈥淚 believe the only ultimate way is to give them a change of heart, which only the 海角大神 faith can do.鈥
Just one episode in long history
The air is still heavy from a thunderstorm when Hudson, the community organizer, shows up at the public library in downtown Charlottesville. Across the street the Lee statue glistens with rain, but Hudson doesn鈥檛 want to talk about monuments. She doesn鈥檛 want to talk about Jason Kessler or Heather Heyer, though she acknowledges the tragedy of her death. Hudson doesn鈥檛 even really want to talk about this weekend: only that she鈥檚 still deciding whether to stay in Charlottesville or head to Washington, where Kessler plans to hold Unite The Right 2.
As far Hudson is concerned, last year鈥檚 protests were just one episode in a long, ugly history of white supremacy and patriarchy that has kept communities of color and especially the black community 鈥渁t the bottom of the barrel,鈥 she says. Her fight 鈥 to build up black and brown folks in her city 鈥 didn鈥檛 change on Aug. 12.
If that violence jolts white folks out of their comfort zones, Hudson says, then it did the progressive movement some good.
鈥淚鈥檓 not asking any of these white people down here to apologize for the legacy of Thomas Jefferson or slavery or Jim Crow.鈥 She gestures to the folks strolling up and down Main Street, about a block from the library. 鈥淲hat I鈥檓 asking white people to do is pay attention to the systems that were built and that they choose to maintain and benefit from.鈥
Some white progressives here have spent the past year wrestling with that mandate.
As UVA鈥檚 student council president, Ms. Kenny鈥檚 first instinct was to follow the lead of Signer and then-university president Teresa Sullivan. She issued a statement urging her fellow students to resist engaging the white supremacists鈥 ideas and stay away from downtown during the protests.
鈥淚 definitely received some pushback,鈥 Kenny recalls. 鈥淭here were some upset students who said, 鈥榊ou can鈥檛 tell me how to best confront evil.鈥 鈥
She鈥檚 since struggled to figure out her role. 鈥淥ne of the biggest weights I felt was to keep the white student body engaged and angry and committed to racial justice 鈥 and to make sure that our majority white population didn鈥檛 try and just tie a bow on it and walk away,鈥 Kenny says. 鈥淪o many of our classmates didn鈥檛 have that choice.鈥
Ms. Padron, the high school teacher, has found herself playing a more active part in educating her students about race and privilege. Throughout the school year, her mostly white students came to her with tough questions about institutional racism and their own latent biases. 鈥淚鈥檝e always been a gadfly, but last year I upped the ante,鈥 she says.
鈥淧eople of color are uncomfortable in so many circumstances so many times. There鈥檚 no reason somebody who鈥檚 white should feel good all the time,鈥 she adds. 鈥淎nd as someone who is coded as white here鈥 鈥 Padron is Jewish, and married to a Hispanic man 鈥 鈥淚 had privilege I could use and should use.鈥
鈥淎 lot of them are just starting to pay attention,鈥 says Hudson, back in downtown Charlottesville. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like, 鈥楬ey, I鈥檓 over here and I鈥檓 black and I鈥檝e been telling you that this is happening and y鈥檃ll weren鈥檛 listening.... But now, you listening.鈥 鈥
Christa Case Bryant contributed from Boston.
Correction: Mike Signer did not step down from the office of mayor. In Charlottesville's form of government, city council selects the mayor from its members.
Part 1:聽A new life for mother whose daughter was killed in Charlottesville
Part 2: Charlottesville teen goes from targeting statue to taking on system
Part 3: Charlottesville pastors see protest as an act of faith
Part 4: Jason Kessler and the 'alt-right' implosion after Charlottesville