Tag: confederate statues

bookmark_borderThree years

Posted on by Marissa

This weekend marks the three-year anniversary of what I often characterize as the destruction of everything that makes my life worth living.

The past three years have been filled with anguish, grief, rage, and excruciating pain so extreme that the pre-2020 version of myself not only had never experienced such pain before, but would never have believed such pain was even possible.

My pain is something that most people do not understand. People do not get why someone would be this upset about the fact that statues were taken down. They don’t get why metal and stone sculptures are what I focus on, rather than real people who have lost their lives. I have been called a psychopath, a terrible person, gross, disgusting, self-centered, lacking in empathy, racist. People do not understand why statues of Christopher Columbus, Confederate generals, and other controversial historical figures are so important to me that I feel that life is no longer worth living without them.

But this is exactly how I feel, as incomprehensible as it may be to others. This is who I am. If it makes me a terrible person, so be it. My love of statues and historical figures is a part of me, just as a person’s gender identity, race, religion, and sexual orientation are a part of them.

For approximately the first two and a half years, I felt essentially no happiness whatsoever. (A few possible exceptions: the 2021 Columbus Day ceremony, finding out about the possibility of getting my very own Stonewall Jackson statue, and receiving updates on the progress of the statue.) My emotional state ranged from unbearable, indescribable pain at worst, to neutral at best. In other words, in addition to being filled with horrific pain, my world was also completely devoid of beauty and joy. For this entire time, I seriously considered the possibility of committing suicide. Logically, it was the most sensible option. Why, after all, would a person choose to continue living when everything that makes their life worth living has been destroyed? When there is no reason to expect the future to consist of anything other than a mixture of excruciating pain and feeling just okay? Yet some combination of cowardice and faint hope, as irrational as it seemed, held me back from doing so.

I hesitate to write this for fear of jinxing it, but over the past six months I feel that I have very slowly begun to heal.

For example, one effect of the genocide is that I hate America, because this is the country where the genocide took place, the country whose people committed the genocide, the country that allowed the genocide to happen. American flags, patriotic songs, and red, white, and blue decorations, all of which I used to love, have turned into a source of heartbreak. But this past week, when I visited my grandma at her retirement home, the entire place was decked out in flags and star-spangled decorations, and patriotic country songs blared in the dining room. Somehow, instead of making me feel like a knife was twisting in my stomach, they made me smile.

Healing is not linear. There have certainly been instances of excruciating pain in the past six months, and I am certain there will be more in my future. But overall, they seem slightly less severe, and they seem not to last as long.

The past three years have changed me.

In addition to the anniversary of the most horrific series of events that has ever taken place, this week was also my 34th birthday. I am the same little girl who adored history and art, who never fit in, who was excluded and bullied, who loved historical figures more profoundly than any friend or family member. I am the same, but different. I will always have an imaginary world, in which historical figures live alongside completely imaginary people and creatures, talking, interacting, and having adventures. But now, in addition to that, I have brought a historical figure into the world. Or at least, a beautiful, shiny bronze body for a historical figure’s soul to reside in. A second one will be arriving either late this year, or next year. Instead of doing whatever society expected of me, and escaping to my imaginary world in my spare time, I am making changes, in various ways, to bring my real life more in line with my wishes, preferences, and needs. Although most people don’t understand my pain, and although I am not a very social person, I have made meaningful connections with people who share my views. I am taking action to bring my imaginary world into the real one.

So in addition to inflicting anguish, grief, rage, and excruciating pain, the past three years have made me into a more genuine, authentic, outspoken, courageous, wise, introspective, and self-aware person.

Our society decided to destroy everything that makes my life worth living. But I made a new thing that makes my life worth living, where one didn’t exist before. I had to use my own funds and my own land to do so, because our society decided that the things that make my life worth living aren’t allowed to receive public funds or be located on public land. But I did it anyway. And I’m kind of proud of that.

bookmark_borderAutism Acceptance Month and Confederate History Month

Posted on by Marissa

April is celebrated as both Autism Acceptance Month and Confederate History Month. These things might seem completely unrelated… but for me they are not.

I am on the autism spectrum. I have always experienced the world differently from other people, seen things differently, and thought differently from those around me. Until I was an adult, I never knew that there was a word for the way my mind works. I just thought I was “weird” and “mixed up” and “wrong” for not liking the things other people liked, and for having such difficulty with things like riding a bike, tying my shoes, playing sports, participating in conversations, and making friends, which seemed to come so easily to other people. I didn’t feel that I had much in common with other kids or adults at school, or even my own family members.

I did, however, feel a sense of identity with people from history. My favorite thing to do was to read about them, look at pictures of them, and imagine what their lives were like. I gravitated towards the historical figures who were under-appreciated, misunderstood, and looked down upon, probably because I considered myself to have these characteristics as well. This included historical figures from the Confederacy. Although I am not descended from anyone who fought for the Confederacy, I have always felt a sense of kinship with them because they were underdogs and rebels. They were portrayed in history class as the “bad guys,” but as I read more about them, I realized that they had their own viewpoints, perspectives, and stories, which are too frequently ignored. As someone on the autism spectrum, this was something that I could relate to.

It is difficult to put into words how much happiness historical figures have given me, and how important they are to me. Historical figures made me feel understood, and like I wasn’t alone. Therefore, it is difficult to put into words how heartbreaking and infuriating it has been to witness the horrible things that have happened to Confederate statues over the past few years. These events have made me feel like I am being morally condemned and like I am having my greatest source of joy and meaning taken away from me. As an autistic person who has spent my life trying my best to get through the demands of each day, and to be a good student, a good friend, a good employee, and a good person, I truly don’t believe I deserve this. With so much emphasis being placed on diversity and inclusion, why do I not get to feel accepted or included? Why are people like me no longer represented in art, monuments, memorials, or media? Why does society not acknowledge my perspective, my feelings, my story, or my experiences?

Because of my own personal experiences, both autism and Confederate heritage are integral parts of my identity. Both of these things have helped to shape the person that I am and the perspective through which I see the world, a perspective that deserves to be honored and recognized just as much as anyone else’s. In honor of two important and meaningful parts of my life, I will be celebrating the month of April as both Autism Acceptance Month and Confederate History Month.

Marissa and Stonewall

bookmark_borderPositive things for once

Posted on by Marissa

Due to the horrible things that have happened in the world, the content of this blog is so often negative. So here is some positive news for a change. Below are a few things I’ve seen around the internet lately that made me smile:

1.Candlelight service at Stonewall Jackson’s gravesite. This weekend marks Lee-Jackson Day for those of us who value Confederate history. In Lexington, Virginia, celebrations took place to honor the two legendary generals, Robert E. Lee and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. Photographer Judy Smith captured this beautiful image. You can see more of Judy’s work on her Facebook page and Instagram page.

 
 
 
 
 
View this post on Instagram
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A post shared by Judy Smith (@judysmithphotography)

2. Lemon for Stonewall. Continuing with the theme of Lee-Jackson Day, the Virginia Museum of the Civil War at New Market Battlefield shared that their Stonewall Jackson statue received the gift of a lemon! There is debate about whether lemons were actually Stonewall’s favorite fruit, or whether it was actually peaches or some other fruit, but regardless, I found it touching that an anonymous visitor left this token for the general.

3. R.I.P. Ashli Babbitt. A Facebook friend shared this image. With all the self-righteous pontificating about “our democracy,” our society has completely lost sight of the fact that a young woman was killed by the Capitol police for participating in a protest. The image below encapsulates how January 6th should truly be remembered.

4. Happy January 6th. Also on the topic of the Capitol protest, radio host and social media personality Blake Kresses hit the nail on the head with this post. 

 
 
 
 
 
View this post on Instagram
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A post shared by Blake Kresses (@blakekresses)

5. Who are the real traitors? Possibly the most infuriating thing on earth is when people make the argument that people who fought for the Confederacy were “traitors.” This Instagram post debunks this argument better than I ever could.

 
 
 
 
 
View this post on Instagram
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A post shared by Unreconstructed Rebel (@unreconstructed1896)

 

bookmark_borderNo words will ever explain…

Posted on by Marissa

“Nothing I say about it matters. Nothing I say will ever explain how bad it hurts.”

I came across these words recently. Although they were written about a completely different topic, they encapsulate perfectly how I feel about the statue genocide. 

Nothing I say matters. Whether it be my parents, my friends, my co-workers, people on the internet, or even my therapist, no one will truly understand how bad the statue genocide hurts. No one will truly understand how bad the removal of Confederate statues, or the replacement of Columbus Day with Indigenous Peoples’ Day, hurts.

No one will understand the sense of injustice that these actions invoke in me. No one will understand how frustrating it is that I cannot make others understand why these actions are unjust. How frustrating that no amount of impassioned rhetoric, philosophical arguments, or logical reasoning can make people see and feel the injustice that I see and feel.

No one will truly understand how much a nasty comment, or a “laughing face” reaction, even if it is in response to someone else’s post, hurts me.

“He owned 32 slaves, may he rot.”

That is a comment that someone made on a drawing of Gen’l A.P. Hill that I posted, along with what I considered to be a thoughtful explanation, on Instagram. 

Today, I spent my entire day agonizing about how to respond to this comment. Should I delete it? Respond to it, and most likely get into a nasty back and forth discussion, in the full view of my friends, family, co-workers, and boss? Send the person a nasty message in retribution for his nasty comment? Ultimately, I opted for the both the first and third options, and also blocked the person so that he would not be able to respond to my message.

Was this petty and vindictive of me? Yes. 

Would a classy and mature person have merely deleted the comment and left it at that? Probably yes.

Apparently I am a petty, vindictive, classless, and juvenile person, but deleting this comment just did not feel sufficient. This way of thinking – that slavery is the be-all and end-all of everything – is exactly what I was debunking in the write-up accompanying my A.P. Hill drawing. This attitude – that a negative attribute of a historical figure somehow justifies completely destroying them, obliterating them, and eradicating anything having to do with them from the world – is exactly what I have dedicated my life to fighting against. I simply couldn’t let this nasty comment go without some sort of response.

I retaliated, because I believe that retaliation is what justice and morality demanded in this situation. 

After doing so, the thought hit me: how dare this person leave such a nasty comment in the first place?

I have been hurting for two and a half years, hurting so badly that nothing I say will ever be sufficient to convey the true extent of my pain. And now, on top of everything that I’ve been through, this person went out of his way to add to my pain. He went out of his way to pile on.

A.P. Hill was killed – shot through the heart – by soldiers who were invading his homeland in order to force everyone there to remain part of the U.S. against their will. After his death, the cause that A.P. Hill had given his life for, lost. The South surrendered and was forced, to this very day, to remain part of the U.S. against their will. Then, in 2022, A.P. Hill’s statue was dismantled and sent to a black history place, where it will be displayed along with signage explaining how horrible he was and how horrible his statue is. Because the statue served as his grave marker, his dead body was also dug up from the ground. And then the contractor who performed the disgraceful work made social media posts insulting and ridiculing him.

And now, on top of everything that A.P. Hill has been through, this person on Instagram went out of his way to add to the pain. He went out of his way to pile on, to add insult to injury, to further abuse this poor man who already lost his life fighting against an invading army, had his statue torn down and his grave desecrated.

Why?

Why would someone do that?

Why the hell would someone do that?

I don’t know this person personally. From what I could tell by looking at his Instagram profile, he seems to be a filmmaker of some sort. He posts pictures of himself, his girlfriend, his friends, his dog, and various random things. The captions tend to be either just emojis, or somewhat cryptic text that seems like it could be inside jokes between him and his friends. He occasionally posts short videos. 

Why couldn’t he have just continued with these things, and minded his own business? Why did he have to leave this nasty comment on my post, three weeks after I posted it?

Because of his decision to leave this nasty comment, I spent yet another day in pain. I spent yet another day agonizing over how to deal with yet another instance of someone hurting me and hurting a person I love, yet another instance of painful injustice. Because of his decision, I had a fight with my dad, who recommended that I not respond and became frustrated listening to me continue to talk about the situation.

Obviously, this person does not like A.P. Hill. But I’m not asking him to protest in the streets with a sign saying how amazing A.P. Hill is, and how unjust it was to remove his statue (although both things are true). I’m not asking him to “like” my post, to support me, or to help right the wrong of the statue genocide (although any of those things would be awesome). I’m just asking him to leave me alone. 

This person seems to have a perfectly fine life. He seems to have people that he interacts with, and stuff that he enjoys doing. 

Why couldn’t he have just continued doing his thing, living his life, and minding his own business? Obviously, he didn’t like my post. But why couldn’t he have just scrolled past it and continued on his merry way? Why did he have to go out of his way to inflict additional pain on people who’ve already suffered more than their fair share? 

Why? 

I have no answers, only questions.

bookmark_borderThe atrocity at Arlington National Cemetery

Posted on by Marissa

It was 11:25 p.m. on Saturday, January 7. My goal was to go to bed by 11:30, so naturally, I figured that I had enough time to do one more relatively small task. I chose as my final task, the job of looking up something that I had seen on social media the day before and wished to blog about, taking a screenshot of said thing, and pasting said screenshot into a draft blog post so that I could easily bang out the blog post the next day, the screenshot of the subject matter already in place.

Naturally, I was unable to quickly find the social media post that I was looking for. So I continued scrolling and scrolling, looking for it. In the process, I discovered that the U.S. government had decided to remove the Confederate monument at Arlington National Cemetery, something that pains me to have to type. I had known that this was under consideration, but hadn’t known that the decision to go ahead with this atrocity and moral abomination had already been made.

Making matters worse, this decision had taken place on December 29, ten entire days before I found out about it. 

Immediately upon learning this information, my entire body, mind, and soul erupted in excruciating and unbearable agony. To say that I don’t get the reasoning behind this decision, and the countless others like it in all different places around the country, would be an understatement. It is difficult to imagine a future for myself in a society that has decided that it would somehow be a good idea to systematically obliterate everything that makes my life worth living. Arlington National Cemetery, like so many other places and things, has been turned into yet another instrument to hurt me, to oppress me, and to declare my feelings, thoughts, and perspective invalid. Arlington National Cemetery has been redesigned and reconfigured to send the message that everyone deserves to be honored, except for people like me. Yet another thing, which used to be (and ought to be) beautiful, magnificent, and cool, now deliberately ruined. As I’ve written before, I don’t believe there are words available in any language that are capable of fully expressing the severity of this pain. 

Thinking about the events of Saturday night, I am simultaneously mad at myself for making the decision to look at social media at such a late hour (an activity that I am trying to cut back on), and also mad at myself for not having found out about the atrocity sooner. I felt derelict and irresponsible for not keeping up with the latest developments on a topic that is so important to me and affects me so deeply. I suppose this relates to the philosophical question of whether it is better to know the truth, even though it makes one unhappy, or to remain ignorant and also happy. Would it really be beneficial for me to be shielded from these horrible things via cutting down on my social media use, given that these things are, in reality, happening? Is happiness truly valuable if it is based on an inaccurate perception of what is actually happening in the world? 

By the way, after an hour of searching, I never found the post that I was looking for.

I also, as you might imagine, got very little sleep, so my brain was in no shape for blogging on Sunday anyways.

I’m not 100% sure why I am sharing this, other than to make it clear that the systematic obliteration of statues and monuments honoring the Confederacy causes real pain and inflicts real harm on real people. I am a human being, my feelings, thoughts, and perspective are just as valid as anyone else’s, and I do not deserve to be made to feel like this. I wish that Ty Seidule, the government official who made this despicable decision, could be made to feel what I am feeling as a result of his actions. I wish that he could truly understand what I am experiencing, and truly understand the impact, the real human costs, of what he did. I am certain that if this were possible, government officials would make different decisions than the ones they are currently making.

Actions and decisions like the one regarding Arlington National Cemetery are morally wrong, and the people who make them and carry them out do not hold the moral high ground.

bookmark_borderThe immorality of the Southern Poverty Law Center

Posted on by Marissa

The Southern Poverty Law Center recently made the below Facebook post, which really angered me. 

This post is infuriating for numerous reasons:

“It’s past time we remove ALL memorials dedicated to the Confederacy!”

False. As an autistic person whose special interest is the Confederacy, memorials dedicated to the Confederacy are necessary in order for me to have a life that is worth living. A world without memorials dedicated to the Confederacy is a world that might as well not even exist at all. So, no, it is not “past time” to remove the things that I need in order to have a life worth living. Removing things that people need in order to have a life worth living should never be done at any point in time. 

Each and every removal of a Confederate monument has inflicted horrific and unbearable pain on me. Each and every removal of a Confederate monument is completely unacceptable. What actually needs to be done is to put these monuments back in their rightful locations in order to rectify the painful situation. Not to inflict even more pain, as the SPLC advocates. 

“Earlier this week, Richmond, Virginia, continued taking action to correct its alignment with the divisive Confederacy: The very last Confederate monument sitting on public space in the city was removed.” 

Richmond, Virginia was not taking action to “correct” anything. Alignment with the Confederacy is a good thing, because the Confederacy was fighting against the federal government. For this reason, everyone should be aligned with the Confederacy, and the fact that some people and places aren’t, is the thing that needs to be corrected. Rather, Richmond, Virginia was taking an action that inflicted horrific and unbearable pain and destroyed everything that makes life worth living. I don’t understand why anyone would consider this to be even remotely a good thing. Allowing people to have lives that are worth living is not something that needs to be corrected. 

Also, I’m not sure what the “divisiveness” of the Confederacy has to do with anything. Whether something is divisive or not is determined by what the public opinion happens to be in a society. If something is liked by most people, then it is not considered divisive. If people have strongly differing opinions about something, then it is considered divisive. But moral right and wrong are objective truths that have nothing to do with what happens to be popular in a society. Therefore, whether or not something is divisive has nothing to do with whether the thing in question is good or bad. Calling the Confederacy “divisive” in this context is a logical fallacy. The Confederacy may well be divisive, but that has nothing to do with its moral goodness or badness.

“If the former flagship of the Confederacy can remove all of its Confederate monuments, then all of our cities can.”

Um, yes, all of our cities can commit immoral actions that inflict horrific and unbearable pain and destroy everything that makes life worth living. But given that such actions are immoral, inflict horrific and unbearable pain, and destroy everything that makes life worth living, I’m not sure why anyone would advocate that cities do so.

“Explore our resources to find out more about the history of Confederate monuments and what you can do to help remove them.”

Again, given that removing Confederate monuments is immoral, inflicts horrific and unbearable pain, and destroys everything that makes life worth living, I’m not sure why anyone would want to help do this, or why anyone would advocate such a thing.

“Take down monuments glorifying the Confederacy.”

Given that monuments glorifying the Confederacy are necessary for me to have a life that is worth living, no, no one should take down monuments glorifying the Confederacy. 

Taking down monuments glorifying the Confederacy is immoral, because it inflicts horrific and unbearable pain and destroys everything that makes life worth living

In case I haven’t made myself sufficiently clear: inflicting horrific and unbearable pain, and destroying everything that makes life worth living, is bad. It is not okay. It is not even remotely a positive thing. It is not something that should ever be done, advocated for, praised, or celebrated in any way. 

It is beyond wrong and beyond infuriating that after two and a half years of literally hundreds of instances of horrific pain being inflicted on me, the SPLC would advocate for the infliction of yet more pain. That after two and a half years of getting their way on essentially everything – the rights, feelings, and perspectives of other people be damned – the SPLC would demand even more. That after two and a half years of brutal, vicious destruction of everything beautiful and good in the world, the SPLC would consider the continued existence of a meager handful of beautiful and good things to be the problem.

Pardon my French, but… fuck the Southern Poverty Law Center, their bigotry, and their complete and utter lack of empathy and human decency.

People who advocate for the infliction of horrific and unbearable pain, and for the eradication of everything that makes life worth living, do not hold the moral high ground.

bookmark_borderPatrick Lindsay is a pathetic little bitch

Posted on by Marissa

If it weren’t bad enough that the city of Richmond decided to desecrate the grave of General A.P. Hill, the contractor who carried out the hideous work decided to make things even worse with a series of flippant and sometimes profane Facebook posts insulting and ridiculing General Hill.

Patrick Lindsay, the Director of Operations of the contracting company in question, made an extensive series of posts showing the once magnificent monument being hideously dismantled and the grave site being turned into a pathetic pile of rubble. Lindsay brags about his role in the despicable act of desecration and proudly poses for a selfie in front of his horrific handiwork.

“AP Hill caved like a pathetic little bitch,” Lindsay wrote in one caption.

In another post, he wrote: “As far as I can tell the inventory was a few buttons, the brass hardware from the oaken box, two femurs, a skull, some assorted ribs, and a pelvis… No partridges. No pear trees.”

Seeing the photos of this vicious and intentional destruction makes me feel as if my soul is being crushed, and as if a knife is being twisted in my heart. Yet again, everything that makes my life worth living, dismantled piece by excruciating piece, deliberately reduced to a pitiful pile of rocks. The fact that anyone could witness (let alone participate in) such a thing and post about it in such a casual, flippant, and joking manner… is incomprehensible. Disgusting. Appalling. Abhorrent. No words are quite sufficient to express the pain that these actions have caused me.

So I’d like to correct Mr. Lindsay.

In reality, A.P. Hill was a brave and skilled general who fought for what he believed in.

And in reality, Patrick Lindsay is a pathetic little bitch.

Patrick Lindsay has never in his life demonstrated even a shred of courage, integrity, or moral character. In fact, he chose to do the most cowardly thing a human being could ever do. He chose to attack, insult, and ridicule someone who is completely helpless, someone who cannot do anything whatsoever to defend himself. Someone who is dead.

Hopefully Patrick Lindsay dies painfully one day, like A.P. Hill did, and hopefully, years later, someone desecrates his grave, digs up his remains, and profanely insults and ridicules him. Then maybe his soul (if it even exists, which is doubtful, now that I think about it) will look upon what is happening and gain a tiny shred of understanding of what A.P. Hill has gone through.

Far too many people have lost sight of the fact that every historical figure was a human being. And no human being deserves to be treated the way A.P. Hill has been treated.

A.P. Hill didn’t deserve to be murdered by an invading army that was waging a war to force people to remain part of the United States against their will. (That was what the Union side in the Civil War was doing.)

A.P. Hill didn’t deserve to be murdered again, over 150 years after his physical death, by having his statue obliterated and his remains desecrated.

A.P. Hill didn’t deserve to be insulted and ridiculed by a coward who has never suffered any hardships, never taken a stand for any principles, and never contributed anything positive to the world.

I stand with A.P. Hill.

Pardon my French, but…

Fuck Patrick Lindsay, and fuck every miserable excuse for a person who thinks that murdering historical figures is even remotely acceptable.

bookmark_borderRemembering A.P. Hill

Posted on by Marissa

Today the city of Richmond, Virginia removed the statue of General A.P. Hill, as well as his headstone / grave marker atop which the statue stood. Tomorrow the city plans to physically dig up Hill’s remains from the ground. The city plans to give the statue and headstone to an African-American history museum.

A. P. Hill - Brady-Handy

To say that this is disgraceful and immoral is an understatement. This is just the latest in a series of disgraceful and immoral actions – which I collectively call the Statue Genocide – committed by bigots and bullies who purport to be advancing the values of diversity, inclusion, and tolerance but who are actually accomplishing the exact opposite of this.

The purpose of this post is to remind everyone that A. P. Hill was a real human being. A human being with thoughts, feelings, personality, and opinions. A human being with his own viewpoint, perspective, and story. 

Ambrose Powell Hill was born on November 9, 1825 in Culpeper, Virginia. He went by his middle name, Powell, and was nicknamed “Little Powell.” He had 6 older brothers and sisters. He served honorably in the Mexican-American War, Seminole War, and Civil War. During the Seven Days Battles, he was one of Stonewall Jackson’s bravest and most capable subordinates, although the two didn’t get along particularly well. Hill reached the rank of Lieutenant General in the Confederate army. He was known for being friendly and affectionate towards his soldiers and for wearing his famous red hunting shirt during every battle. On April 2, 1865, he was killed in the Battle of Petersburg. He had said that he didn’t wish to live to see the defeat of the Confederacy, and he got his wish.

Levar Stoney, the mayor of Richmond, doesn’t care about any of that. He doesn’t care about A.P. Hill, or any of the remarkable historical figures whose souls he murdered. He doesn’t care about their lives or their stories. He doesn’t care about other people’s thoughts, feelings, viewpoints, or perspectives. Levar Stoney only cares about people who look and think like him.

This makes him far more bigoted than anyone who fought for the Confederacy, and without even a fraction of their courage. He uses his power to beat up on those who are already hurting, to stomp on those who are already marginalized, and to cruelly insult those who are already unpopular. All while claiming, preposterously, that people like him are oppressed and disadvantaged. To Levar Stoney, the only feelings and the only perspectives that matter are his own. 

bookmark_border“Hateful”

Posted on by Marissa

“Hateful.”

This was the word used by Jacksonville Mayor Lenny Curry to describe a flyover by the organization Save Southern Heritage Florida, in which an airplane carrying a banner that read “Put Monuments Back” flew over a Jacksonville Jaguars game.

How exactly is it “hateful” to argue that people like me have a right to a life worth living?

How exactly is wanting to have a life that is actually worth living “hateful”?

Apparently, only Mayor Curry and people like him are allowed to have lives that are worth living.

And I am not.

Believing that I am actually entitled to the same respect and the same protections as others… is hateful.

Daring to ask that I be treated equally… is hateful.

Apparently, I am required to just put up with everything that makes my life worth living, being destroyed. Other people are allowed to hurt me as badly as they want, with complete impunity, and I am not allowed to defend myself. I am not allowed to point out that actually, destroying everything that makes a person’s life worth living, is bad. I am not allowed to state that I would like the things that make my life worth living, returned.

In the eyes of Mayor Curry, asking for the world to allow you a life that is worth living is “hateful.”

No, Mayor Curry. You are the one who is truly hateful.

bookmark_borderI am thankful for Stonewall Jackson

Posted on by Marissa

I am generally not a big fan of the concept of gratitude. In my opinion, gratitude is overrated and over-emphasized in our society, both as a personal characteristic and as a practice. Some people might call me a negative, entitled, or arrogant person, but my general tendency is to focus on things that I find unjust and wrong, as opposed to finding the positives in every situation.

But this Thanksgiving, I have something very significant for which to be thankful. That thing is General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. Or rather, Jackson in statue form. He is made of bronze, measures 4 feet tall, weighs 120 pounds, and lives in my backyard.

Stonewall Jackson in his new home

Stonewall arrived at my house on September 23, 2022. Even though he doesn’t move or speak, he has immediately made a huge and positive difference in my life. Instead of watching helplessly as everything that makes my life worth living is destroyed, I have something that makes my life worth living, right outside my door. And I am his legal owner, which means that no one (unless they trespass on my land and vandalize my property, which is illegal) can take him away. Instead of having to continue my life without the historical figures that I love, I have a historical figure right by my side. This might sound strange, but I move through the world with more self-confidence and courage now than I did before. I move through the world as the guardian of a historical figure. Whatever comes my way, Stonewall Jackson will be with me as I face it. Legally and biologically, my statue is an inanimate object. But to me, my statue contains a piece of Stonewall Jackson’s soul. 

Stonewall is a source of joy, hope, and beauty in these incredibly dark times. For two and a half years, I have experienced more grief, anger, frustration, pain, and despair than I ever thought possible. For most of this time, I have felt that I have absolutely nothing for which to be thankful. Stonewall brought me a sense of happiness and pride that had been completely missing from my life and that I thought I would never feel again. It has been so cool to choose the spot for Stonewall, make a little flat area for him to stand, and decorate his spot with flowers and a stone wall (no pun intended!) as you can see in the photo above. 

Stonewall hasn’t yet experienced snow, but he has so far survived bitter cold, drenching rain, and howling wind with no problems. Even in November, his shiny bronze surface is warm to the touch when the sun shines on him. I can always see him through the window of my house, and I like to go outside and say hello to him as often as I can. On warm days, I like to sit outside with him while I work on my laptop. You might think I am insane, but sometimes when I am upset about something or wrestling with a difficult situation, I tell Stonewall about it, and he helps me to feel better.

The best thing about Stonewall is that I don’t have to explain or justify my actions, decisions, or choices. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t pressure me to do anything I don’t want to do. He doesn’t demand my time or interrupt me when I’m in the middle of an important task. He gets what I am saying, even when I don’t explain it perfectly. Whatever is on my mind, he will listen nonjudgmentally.

Thank you, Stonewall, for making my life better.