Most of us have done one. Some of us have done one too many. Facebook posts… This is about a recent experience I had in my hometown Facebook group.

I hadn’t looked at the group in quite awhile, but something came up in notifications about it. I thought it said something about the local Confederate Statue being moved? OH!, I thought, are they really going to do it this time?

The statue removal debate had been rekindled because of the recent protests regarding the death of George Floyd. Mr. Floyd was brutally murdered by a Minneapolis police officer and a bystander caught it on video. A tidal wave of people protesting police brutality and systemic racism are marching in several towns and cities in the USA, including mine.

The first post I saw was by a woman who was upset that they were erasing the history, of our town. It was a battle cry I’ve heard and read many times before. I read further in the thread, and saw that she and another man referred to “they” were looting and “they” wouldn’t be happy until everything was burned down- or something like that- I can’t reference it because the thread has since been deleted.

The coded racism of the word “they” incensed me. Why didn’t they say black people? That’s who this white woman and white man were referring to. I replied, asking, Who are “they”? There was no response. A couple of people in the group “liked” my post, so I thought this was shared forum of both for and against removing the statue. It inspired me to write and share a piece about my mother and a racial experiment she posed on the town square many years ago.

9 June Facebook Post

The statue is a quiet reminder of who’s in charge. My late mother, Cindy Hitt McCurry, grew up in Bentonville during the 1950’s and 60’s. She told me that black people weren’t welcome to be in Bentonville after night fell when she was growing up. Did any of you hear that? I have a feeling you did. I’m sure that black people coming through town heard that too. Removing the statue is a gesture stating that this no longer is the case, and is a mild apology for the unforgivable way that our black brothers and sisters were regarded and treated in our racist society.

I grew up in Bentonville too. The ONLY black person I ever knew in Bentonville growing up, was a man with the nickname of Rabbit. He shined shoes for all the white people in town, including me and both of my grandfathers. His shop was beside the square, and I’m sure some of you remember this kind man. Take a moment and try to imagine what he thought and felt when he saw and had to pass by that statue everyday on his way to work. I wonder if it reminded him of his place in our society, while he worked, bent over, all day, to shine the shoes of white men in positions he wasn’t allowed to obtain?

I’m not sure if Bentonville still puts up the manger in the square at Christmas time anymore, but one year when they did, my mother wanted to try an experiment. We drove there, to “see the Christmas lights”. When we got there, she got out of the car and switched out the white baby Jesus with a black one. She told me she wanted to see if people would let him remain. They did not. He was gone the next day and whomever was in charge, left the crib empty, rather than having a black, Christ child placed there. The next year, they made sure the tone was set and safely screwed in behind Plexiglass. The decorating committee placed another white one in the manger, making sure no one would tamper with their white ideal. Now, the community could be sure that Christ wasn’t anything but white again as the doll lay safely sleeping under the Confederate Statue.

Maybe if our parents and grandparents had the foresight to see the painful values exclusionary monuments like this one represent, they would have removed it? Perhaps if they had opened their hearts sooner, and taught us that all men and women are created equal, some of us would haven’t moved away? Think how proud your grandchildren could be of you, knowing that you weren’t one of those people who held on to racist ideals by clinging to monuments of the past.

Regrettably, I don’t live in Bentonville anymore. I moved away years ago because I am gay and ultimately didn’t feel safe there. I also wanted to experience an inclusionary world.

Over the years, I’ve been back several times and seen vast improvements in the way minorities and people on the fringe of society are treated. Unfortunately, there is still a dark underbelly of prejudice in Bentonville. I personally witnessed and experienced it last time I was there, at my grandmothers nursing home.

Removing the statue is a way to move on from Bentonville’s dark past. Please open your hearts to all men and women, not only those who represent our racist past.

END POST

I think about 10 people liked or loved it. That made me feel good. I was sharing a story about my hometown, people that had lived there, and a story about racism. It seemed to fit within the groups parameters perfectly.

I was still thinking about it later, and checked the thread again for more likes, loves or possible responses. This time I read from someone else, “They’ll probably put a statue of a black person there to kiss their asses.” Someone responded, “Or a trans.”

I couldn’t NOT write something in response. I knew the two men who wrote the posts were probably laughing on the other side of the computer, as were many others who read it. They needed to be called out. I was and am still shocked that their hateful responses were allowed to stay on the group wall.

Pretending that I thought they were serious, I wrote to the first man, “What a good idea! That would be a fine first step and acknowledge the mistreatment of black people in our community.” He immediately replied, “No. That’s a horrible idea.” I think he wrote something else too, but I can’t reference it, since the thread has been deleted. Continuing with my charade of naivety, I responded to the hateful trans post. “What a good idea. Marsha P. Johnson was a black, trans-activist who fought for the rights of all people.” Then I went into work all day and didn’t’ check again till that evening.

Strange. My phone says there’s two notifications of responses from people I don’t know, but when I clicked on them, they’re not there. Hmm. Let me check the thread. Double Hmm. Its gone. The entire thread. There’s no explanation on the FB group page, except that someone has been kicked out of the group with the following post:

“Bye, bye (name withheld) you just got the whack-a-mole button.“

I have no idea what happened. I have a feeling that tensions flared and there might have been some name calling? I thought about asking, then I checked the groups cover photo. It’s the statue. Fred R. Barnard said “A picture is worth a thousand words.” He was right. People have made up their minds and it seems impossible to change them. I think that thread became too raw for the residents of my town, or, at least the administrators of the FB group. It’s tempting not to speak out for fear it will fall on deaf ears, BUT WE MUST!

Make no mistake, I love my hometown. I have faith that most people in the community don’t share the racist views that were posted in the group. Nobody and no place is perfect, I’m not asking for that. The playwright, Taylor Mac said “Perfection is for assholes.” What I am asking for, is that my fellow white people open their hearts and ears and listen to black people now. We need to get on board and #bethechange. Racism, be it blatant or coded, will no longer be tolerated. The sooner we admit we’re doing it, and talk about it, we can move forward and address our conscious and unconscious bias. Only then, will we live humanely as humans.

I’ll try again tomorrow.

#blacklivesmatter #saytheirnames #breonnataylor #georgefloyd

*UPDATE*

Since writing this article I found a screenshot of the exchange. The names have been redacted.