“You can’t change history”
“I’m so sorry, Virginia really is such a beautiful state”
“Where you there when everything happened?”
“Don’t believe all the stories you hear about this place.”
If there is one thing I learned over the course of receiving my unusual interdisciplinary degree in arts administration from the University of Virginia, it is that the stories that we tell ourselves matter. I also learned it is easy to forget where those stories come from.
Over the summer I went to visit my aunt and uncle in a suburb of Dallas, Texas. On our flight out of the Dallas Ft. Worth airport there was a very sweet White lady who was checking our ID to allow us to move on to security. She saw that my mom and I have Virginia license plates and immediately launched into a monologue about the events of August 11th and 12th 2017:
“I’m so sorry about everything that happened there. Virginia is such a beautiful state. That poor confederate statute, I mean it really is just a shame. Did you see the man who drove that car was given life in prison? It’s really terrible the whole thing, but I mean you can’t change history. Virginia is just such a nice state, it’s a shame.”
I left that interaction flabbergasted and a little hysterical. “That poor Confederate Statue.” Admittedly, I can’t really blame the woman. She was a very sweet, very well intentioned White lady. She lives in Texas. The news coverage she got of the Aug 11th and 12th protests probably did not include the Vice News documentary I watched for homework. She probably listened to our president say there was violence on both sides, and believed that statement to tell the whole story of those days.
I really cannot blame this woman because, the thing is, three and a half years ago I probably would have said “that poor statue” as well. I had only really lived in Charlottesville for about a year and a half, not counting the time I went home for breaks. I decided to go to UVA because I knew where some of the buildings were already, but I never gave much thought to who they were named after or why. I wasn’t really paying much attention.
My one interaction at Lee Park involved going to the C-Ville pride festival in 2016. The Lee statue was decked out in a rainbow lei and there was a rainbow balloon arch in the background. I didn’t know when the statue was put up, or why. I think Lee is an interesting historical figure. His presence seemed rather innocuous to me, he was just another Dead White Guy on a horse, I didn’t’ really care about the statue. When I first saw it, I didn’t even realize it was Robert E. Lee.
In fact I was a little sad at first to hear that it may be taken down because I only had positive memories of the statue decked out in rainbow. I came to learn that was a direct result of my White Privilege. A friend pointed me in the direction of some facts about the statue and I realized just how dark the “history” people wanted to defend was.
Flash forward to orientation week for Sycamore House Service Corps. We’re touring the state capital. One of my housemates asks if there has been any push to include iconography from more of the religions practices in PA.. A lot of the art in the capital is a celebration of PA founder William Penn’s desire for religious freedom, but some religions are conspicuously missing from the art. Our tour guide said no, and because the artist has since died the art will remain the same in perpetuity. One of the woman on the tour was very comforted by this fact and affirmed adamantly, “Good. Because you can’t change history”
In Texas I was caught off guard, sleep deprived, and trying to get on a plane. In Pennsylvania, I was more prepared. So I offered this thesis; you can’t change history but you can reinterpret it. I gave the woman a brief background about everything that happened in Charlottesville and explained why the phrase “you can’t change history” makes me so upset. I offered a different perspective.
My conversation with this woman did not lead her to think we should put a Buddha up in the State Capital, but I do think it made her think about why there isn’t a Buddha in the State Capital to begin with. It maybe made her think about which religious traditions were being celebrated at the time the capital was built, and which weren’t. It maybe made her think about how the population of Pennsylvania has changed over the years and how the static nature of the art in the Capital hasn’t reflected this.
Or maybe it didn’t. But I’m glad my housemate asked the question and I’m glad I had this conversation with these really nice elderly white ladies who had come to Harrisburg for the day. I’m glad I got to hear a bit of their histories as well.
The truth is, History is a story written by the winners and the winners are usually White.
Take, for example, the neighborhood of Allison Hill in Harrisburg, PA. I’ve been told a lot of different things about this neighborhood. First, that it is one of the most diverse neighborhoods in the city. Second, that it is one of the most impoverished. First, that it is an area of great need. Second, that there are many thriving non-profit and charity organizations at work in the area. Above all, I’ve been told not to believe all the stories I hear about the neighborhood.
So as a White person I feel an obligation to look to multiple sources for finding out about the history of the places I occupy, because it’s more likely I have only been exposed to a single story. The arts have served as a good place for me to look when seeking information about the histories of places I have lived.
Can art amend history? I think it can. I hope it can. I hope we can use art to tell ourselves more nuanced and complicated stories about the places we live. I’ve seen a lot of really cool exhibitions that do just that.
I’m thankful to my housemate for the model of asking questions. When I walk along the riverfront in Harrisburg and look at all the plaques and statues and historical markers that are posted I can ask myself whose stories are represented, whose aren’t, and why. I can ask what led to the West Shore becoming nicknamed the White Shore. I can ask about what is actually going on in Allison Hill.
I’m excited to learn more about the history of this place I have moved to. I hope I can learn it from multiple sources so as to not fall into the trap of a single story about the place. I hope my Whiteness doesn’t render me blind to the stories of those who are different than me.