Thoughts On The Charleston Shooter

Seems that in the aftermath, states are seriously considering removal of the Confederate Battle Flag (or naval ensign, or whatever you want to call it) from state government grounds, state flags, etc., and retailers are scrambling to remove any association with selling such flags or associated paraphernalia.

That’s a good thing. If you want to fly the flag on your private property, fine. That’s your right, and while I may not agree with it, neither will I impose my will on you in matters of manners and good taste.

And I truly believe that for many who display it, it IS a symbol of heritage, and not hate. They’re not racists.

But it’s damned hard to have a civil conversation about race and bigotry if one party in the conversation sees your symbol of proud Southern heritage as their symbol of hatred and racial oppression.

We can talk about the arbitrariness of symbolism and political correctness until we’re all blue in the face. It doesn’t matter how you meant it, it matters that it is perceived as racist by people who could otherwise be our friends.

Good manners dictate that we do not engage in behavior that our neighbors find offensive, especially when not engaging in the behavior doesn’t infringe our rights in any way.

My parents called black people “niggers.” They weren’t racists, not by any stretch. That was simply what white people of their generation called black people.

And guess what? They learned a better way, and they stopped using that word. It didn’t make them any less Southern, or any less prideful of their cultural heritage.

It was simply the polite thing to do.

On the other hand, I find it deliciously ironic that people are bleating about the Rebel flag being emblematic of institutionalized racism in South Carolina, yet the racist scrotebag who shot up a church couldn’t find any other racist scrotebags to join him in kicking off his little race war.

Not only that, but there were no riots, no civil unrest, no epithets spewed or rocks thrown (looking at you, Baltimore and NYC). Just a bunch of people, black and white, mourning a tragedy together, and trying to find some healing and understanding in the aftermath.

Together.

Right here in the heart of white-supremacist, toothless, cousin-humping Dixie. Apparently we still have a lot to learn about race relations from our more enlightened neighbors to the north.

Except that they’re not quite the lessons those neighbors envisioned.