My earliest memories of the confederate flag are of it being on the ever-reliable Dodge Charger named “General Lee” in the television show The Dukes of Hazzard. In that context, it represented driving fast, having fun, and outsmarting corrupt government officials. There are worse ways to spend your time, so I didn’t consider the flag could be negative until I got older.
When I learned the history and understood what the flag represented, I didn’t see it as harmless anymore.
But I know a lot of people who did and still do. To some, the flag is a
symbol of the good aspects of Southern culture. It’s like wearing
paraphernalia from your favorite college or professional sports team.
You aren’t wearing it to announce your support for the negative things
that might have happened. You’re celebrating the positive things.
For others, it’s more a general symbol of nonconformity. Some people
just like the flag because it looks cool. These reasons bleed into each
other for many folks.
But of course the flag is often used as an expression of racial
hatred, and is seen that way by most people of color. Although I
recognize the various ways people intend the flag to be seen, those
intentions don’t change the reality of how the flag is actually
interpreted.
As a teenager, I knew I could never justify the confederate flag to
my Black friends, so I never identified with it. I did own some Lynyrd
Skynyrd records that probably had the flag on them somewhere, but that’s
it.
As an adult, my attitude toward the flag has evolved. For a time, it
made me angry (“Why is that thing still around?!”). You can only be
angry for so long, though, and it eventually turned to exasperation
(“Seriously, why is that thing still around?”). Sad to say, that
exasperation slowly turned into grudging acceptance (“Yep, that thing is
still around.”).
When attention turned to the flag in the aftermath of the tragedy in
Charleston, South Carolina, I had mixed feelings. I wanted the flag to
come down from the South Carolina state house, and other places, of
course. I hoped it would be the result of an internal, organic changing
of hearts and minds in the South. I feared that if external pressure
forced the decision, it would generate new violence.
It did generate violence, but it isn’t new violence. It’s the
violence that burns slowly but evenly across our nation. The flag coming
down was a gust of wind that caused the fire to flare up momentarily.
The flare-up will die down, but the fire will keep burning. You will
notice it if you look carefully. Notice the disproportionate rates at
which African Americans are incarcerated. Notice the language used to
describe migrants seeking to live and work peacefully in the United
States.
Notice the many places you visit in the course of daily life that are
populated only by White people. Restaurants, stores, churches—entire
portions of cities and towns. Rare are the signs that plainly state
“Whites Only.” They aren’t needed anymore. The law has become custom,
routine, habit. Unfortunately, custom, routine and habit are more
difficult to overturn than law.
The confederate flag is down, or in the process of coming down, and
that’s not going to stop. That’s an unqualified good. The task now is to
address the things that kept it flying for so long. It’s a harder task
and one that the entirety of God’s church has to take up.
Jason Boone coordinates the peace and justice ministry for
Mennonite Church USA. For Peace Sunday and other peacemaking resources
for congregations and individuals, visit PJSN.org.
