Charleston Strong (and Charleston Proud) in the Aftermath of the Charleston Shooting
There’s no way I can go without writing about the recent tragedy in Charleston.
I’ve been calling Charleston “home” for the past year and a half. The fact that something so terrible happened literally so close to home is unnerving. Emanuel AME Church is located in the heart of downtown Charleston, and about 2 miles from where I work. Several of my coworkers personally knew some of the victims. It all seems so surreal that this actually happened.
When I started seeing posts on Facebook and Twitter on Wednesday night, they included very little detail, so at first I thought it had been a one-off shooting. Like someone had pulled a gun out on one person on the street. Not to say that situation wouldn’t have been sad and tragic in itself, but just that I didn’t quite understand the magnitude of what actually happened. Then I heard that the shooting took place in a church. I then thought it was even more tragic that it happened in a place of sanctuary and worship, but still thought it was an attack on just one person.
Then the details came pouring in. Nine people. Nine lives. A massacre of peaceful churchgoers at a Bible study.
I can’t even begin to understand what was going on in this shooter’s mind. Reports say he had been sitting with the group for a whole hour before he started shooting. He claimed he had been debating whether or not to actually carry out his plan of attack, because “everyone was so nice to me.”
Sure, there may have been a few raised eyebrows when a young white man walked into the African church, but they didn’t make him feel unwanted or like he didn’t belong. They welcomed him with open arms to join them that night. While they showed him love, he responded with hate.
That is not how Charleston is.
I’ve shared about the scarcity of diversity (specifically Asians) in this city, and have made light of the experiences I’ve had here with people who aren’t as accustomed to interacting with other ethnicities. But in spite of my jokes, I’ve never had anyone treat me with outright racism or hatred. On the contrary, this city has welcomed me with the same open arms as those churchgoers. I struggled when I first moved here. It was so different from home, and I didn’t have any friends here. But the people here were kind, open, and made great efforts to make sure I felt comfortable and at home here. As much as I love and yearn for California, I’ve grown to love this beautiful city and its beautiful people.
Even the way this city responded to such a hateful event was beautiful. There were no riots, no angry mobs screaming curses, no wars between the white and black populations. While several people on the outside have tried to twist this event to further their political agendas, not one post or message that I’ve seen from a Charlestonian has been about anything like gun control laws, race relations, or even mental illness. It has solely been about mourning the lost, uniting through support and love, and just a little anger toward the gunman who tried to divide this city. Many people could very easily have responded to this act of hatred with more hate. It seems to have become the norm in this country to react to violence with even more violence. Instead, the Holy City reacted with love upon love, grace upon grace, and came together as one in solidarity, no matter your skin color.
When the families of the slain victims were given a chance to address the killer via video connection, do you know what they said to him?
“I just wanted everybody to know, to you, I forgive you. You took something very precious away from me. I will never talk to her ever again. I will never be able to hold her again. But I forgive you. You hurt me. You hurt a lot of people. May God forgive you. And I forgive you.”
-- daughter of Ethel Lance
“We welcomed you Wednesday night in our Bible study with open arms. Every fiber in my body hurts, and I will never be the same. . . . Tywanza was my hero. But as we said in Bible study, we enjoyed you, but may God have mercy on you.”
-- mother of Tywanza Sanders
Then afterwards, several people gathered outside the courthouse to sing gospel hymns together.
This man tried to stir up hate. According to some news outlets, he did this because he wanted to start a race war. But he failed miserably. His actions were spewing with so much hatred, yet this city responded with so much love. It only made us stronger, brought us closer. We as a community united to mourn the victims and show that hate will not win. At various memorials, prayer vigils, and other events to show support, people of all colors stood together as one, to show that we are #charlestonstrong. That such an act of hatred will not divide us. That we are more than just the color of our skin, and that Charleston’s love is stronger than this man’s hate.
Just take a look at these images from this Bridge to Peace event. Masses of people walked from either side of the Ravenel Bridge to meet in the middle to form a “Unity Chain” by linking hands. There they observed 9 minutes of silence, to honor the nine who were killed. The turnout was so great, that not everyone could fit on the nearly 3-mile-long bridge. There were all sorts of cheering, singing, and even honking in support from cars driving by.
USA #oneheart #onelove #CharlestonUnityChain pic.twitter.com/xEK702d3AO
— Carly Good (@Carly_Good)
"Love never fails." "Be devoted to one another on brotherly love." #bridgetopeace #CharlestonUnityChain pic.twitter.com/7QkFqvGJHR
The amount of people that showed up to link hands across the Ravenel is insane. #charleston #standwithcharleston pic.twitter.com/QrLnIok0iE
— Chad Engle (@chadengle)
#Charleston's hands and hearts are linked tonight in #UnityChainCharleston. #CharlestonStrong #IamAME #BridgetoPeace pic.twitter.com/2glt2FOMoJ
— The Post and Courier (@postandcourier)
See more pictures of this beautiful event here and here.
I have not called Charleston home for very long, but I am so, so very proud to be a part of this city. We are #charlestonstrong.
