Statues sometimes put wrong people on pedestals
The name George Washington conjures images of a fearless leader crossing the Delaware, the first president, and the boy who could not tell a lie. At his funeral in 1799 Washington was elevated to an unmatched level of accomplishment and adoration. The four-and-ahalf-hour service celebrated him as a savior, with Henry Lee extolling Washington as “first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.”
For the past 221 years, schoolchildren have been taught George Washington was the father of our country and that his presence and actions in the American Story were perfect.
I was taught this, too — plenty of prose about the myth and not so much about the man. As America contemplates the removal of statues and the changing of names, there is great concern over respect for and remembrance of our history. Sweeping changes today should not cause us to forget our history tomorrow. Because in reality, these statues and monuments are not truthful depictions of perfect people, but part of a fabricated version of our history. When we contemplate the removal of statues, it forces us to do something that people hate to do, read the truth and not just the headline.
If you grew up Christian, like 65% of Americans, perhaps the first person you learned about as a child was Jesus. You were taught about a perfect man, with a perfect story, and likely with perfect white skin; although a man born 2,000 years ago in Jerusalem was certainly quite brown.
Not a Christian? Then you might have first learned of other “saviors” in history. George Washington, the flawless leader who saved America. Christopher Columbus, who brought his superior religion and race to “his” new world. As American history unfolds, the list of faultless white men grows longer. Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and Abraham Lincoln are all part of a clear pattern distinctly woven into the American experience. An America built by great white men.
Systemic racism can be found in our broken criminal justice system, social hierarchies, and the unfair distribution of wealth. These inequities are nourished by the implicit biases schools instill in our youth, that the story of America is of perfect white men.
The American story teaches a watereddown version of history free of blemishes and accountability and preserved permanently in statues elevated above the oppressed. The problem is not really the man or the moment in time, the problem is the permanence. While culture, fashion, and foibles rapidly evolve around us, the permanence of celebratory statues and monuments lock in the notion all men are in fact not created equal, but some stand above the rest, actions unquestioned and attitudes unchallenged.
Statues — meant to venerate the founders of our nation — blur our vision and mask the flaws of the men honored, as well as those who struggled in their time. As long as they remain uplifted above their true character, we will never be able to fully understand the history of America.
Either our understanding of these figures and events should change or we must challenge the permanence itself. We can celebrate a man if we are honest about his acts and intentions. We can honor an event if we understand what led to, and resulted from it. Otherwise, blind adoration for these fixtures only advances a false narrative of our collective history.
Unlearning white supremacy in America means learning these men are not permanent, they are not statues. When we educate ourselves about who they were and the mistakes they made, we move forward. The stone will weather and the metal will pit as time breaks down the old ways, pushing us towards the more perfect union, one statue at a time.