Certain thoughts stayed with me throughout the white supremacist rallying cries that began on Friday night at the University of Virginia. As I received texts on Saturday from a business owner at the scene of the counter-protest on the Downtown Mall, and received encouraging emails and calls from friends and family, I worked to come to grips with all of it. Deandre Harris lying bloody and beaten by poles in the hands of white supremacists—inside the parking garage I used two days ago
Read MoreThe Roanoke Times ran the op-ed that I shared with you earlier this week through my blog on Hannah Graham.
Read MoreI didn’t know Hannah Graham. I do not know Jesse Matthew. I do not know what happened after he caught up with her that night. I live in Charlottesville. I do know the downtown mall and the businesses and houses along Hannah’s route from the area around the University Virginia towards her final stop that night. One persistent, troubling question has nagged me since her disappearance. Why did no one take responsibility for her that night? Why no responsibility taken for the actions of Jesse Matthew, described by many downtown restaurant employees as a nighttime fixture, known for his aggression towards young women?
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“Give me hope, help me cope / with this heavy load,” George Harrison sang and strummed with three of his British friends in 1973. Wrong weighs like a wet blanket on our souls. Performing his song years later, Harrison’s prayer remains ours: “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth).” Hearts seek light—hands want holding.
twenty-twenty-five / give us love…connect the dots… / our new-fashioned plans