dear white children of the confederate flag.I saw you and heard you loud and clear as a friend and I approached an intersection of Hampton ,Virginia where you sat on the edge of a corner building clutching the pole of your personal confederate flag determined to hold on to what you consider the strength of your ancestors.Those relentless warriors who resisted the freedom of others. Those irascible warriors who challenged the rights of African-Americans.Those warriors determined to perpetuate the generational cycle of intolerance,miseducation and violence.
There you sat so calm and incredulously proud as those who would pass by could witness your approach to life.
I must say when I saw you in your ceremonious defiance,the teacher instinct in me wanted to run over and give you an impromptu history lesson; one that you evidently never received .Wanted to give you my perspective on your ideas. Wanted to tell you that symbols do matter because it is the symbols that give permission and influence behavior.But the teacher instinct in me also knows that there is such a thing as learning readiness and the teachable moment.So I realize that on that day and possibly many more days to come,that you are not ready!
So,we drove on being acutely conscious of the number of confederate flags that hung from the neat rows of homes.And all I could do was think of those who lived in those homes and where they stood with the idea of equality and how they would do anything to support their pledge of hate.