VCC Magazine Spring 2019

V irginia C apitol C onnections , S pring 2019 8 our lifetimes. While our experiences have varied, I guarantee you that generations of black Virginians can tell you story after story that merges into a common theme. All you have to do is ask them, and their stories will allow you to see a larger picture. That history and experience brings us to the current moment in this Commonwealth. I know we are all struggling together to grapple with the events of the past few weeks and what they say about who our leaders are. Who we are as Virginians. And that picture, ultimately, is that of two Virginias. A White Virginia and a Black Virginia. Existing in parallel along the same arc of history, frequently intersecting, but never running together as one. Two different experiences, born from the same beginning four hundred years ago and still never merged into one shared story. The White Virginia that has had the privilege to never deal with being treated as second class in public or had to face institutional and cultural barriers that are higher than any wall that could ever be imagined. The Black Virginia that is acknowledged when convenient, that is viewed as monolithic with one black experience of poverty and lack of drive, who has suffered painful, visceral wounds that are often papered over, or paid attention for a moment and then forgotten. The White Virginia that perpetuated segregation, Massive Resistance, glorification of the Confederacy via monuments and flags in public spaces, and other mechanisms which consciously or unconsciously attempted to demonstrate its power over black Virginians. The Black Virginia that is still oppressed by vestiges of Jim Crow in our legal system, that fears law enforcement, is mocked in yearbooks and photos year after year after year, and looks skeptically at White Virginia because of the generations past. I was born in 1989, just eight months before the election of L. Douglas Wilder as the first black governor of the Old Dominion, and the first black governor elected in the history of this country. The grandson of slaves, this was a watershed moment in the Virginia journey. One would have thought, and indeed many of us hoped, that this election would have ushered in aVirginia that was not Black orWhite, but instead one Virginia. A united Commonwealth. However, it seems that we have not come far enough to understand the hurt and pain and the effect on those who grew up in the shadow of separate but not equal. Thirty years on, throughout the duration of my life, we are still struggling mightily with race in our state. Now, let me be abundantly clear—Black Virginia and White Virginia have no specific political party. The two Virginias have coexisted in inequality for four centuries, but we may now have finally reached a tipping point. The lasting wounds of the two parallel journeys have been reopened of late. And now, we as Virginians, have a choice: to give these deep-seated issues the attention of a news cycle and suppress our differences yet again, or to address the longstanding issues head on and make real progress toward healing and reconciliation between Black Virginia andWhite Virginia. I believe deeply in my bones that we can walk together shoulder to shoulder for the good of this Commonwealth, but it will take a desire to address that which is uncomfortable and every ounce of compassion and understanding that we can summon from within ourselves. In Dr. Martin Luther King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail, he wrote that “we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” It is time for us as Virginians to recognize that we are part of a single garment of destiny, whether we like it or not. We now have a chance to confront our demons head on, to realize that we are inextricably linked as one. We can try to connect White Virginia and Black Virginia once and for all, to acknowledge, confront, and understand each other’s paths. No longer can we ignore or paper over our differences. For years we have opted for band aids when stitches have been necessary. This is our shared Virginia journey, and the way that we march on together. The arcs to this point have been different and must be acknowledged as such. But we are brothers and sisters, under God, roaming the vast expanses of this great Commonwealth—from the streets of the Capital City to the suburbs of Northern Virginia, from the shores of Virginia Beach to the rolling hills of Southwest Virginia. We must understand that our way toward the healing and reconciliation we have spoken about starts with us, as leaders of this state—those who are looked to for guidance and leadership. That our words cannot ring empty in the ears of Black Virginia. That our deeds and aims in this body—as policy makers—must be reflected in our actions and our ideals. It is my firm belief that once we accept that responsibility, we can begin to heal and reconcile with one another. To bring the two Virginias—Black Virginia and White Virginia—on to the same track. On to a shared Virginia journey that embodies what Dr. King wrote about in his letter—that as long as we are here we are tied together in mutuality, and what one does affects all. We have our choice: to ignore what has happened and paper over yet another wound and continue on with the two Virginias. Or to face our challenges head on, acknowledge our incredibly difficult history with race in this state, and vow to move forward together on our shared journey. A failure to address the chasm between BlackVirginia andWhite Virginia is the acceptance of the status quo: a Virginia that is divided by race, whether overt or covert, that leads to further pain, hurt, and despair in the state that we all love. Now I do not stand here to chastise or criticize the actions of every man or woman who have acted foolishly or even maliciously decades ago. Insensitivity to others also means that I must believe in second chances and forgiveness. And that is what my family and faith have always taught me. I feel strongly that the cure for the cancer of racism and discrimination is not gradualism. The need for change and justice is urgent and immediate. And the burden is on all of us to end this scourge of racism once and for all. I have internalized the struggle that my family has suffered for generations, just as every other blackVirginian has struggled as well, and I feel compelled to insert myself into this conversation so that I might be able to make a lasting difference in our state that has been moving in separate directions for far too long. I have faith that we can make the tough choice—to tackle our history head on and move forward together to heal and reconcile. It is what my grandparents and parents have wished that we do for decades. As a young black man in this fractured Commonwealth, I will do all I can to make sure that their dream—our dream—comes true. Thank you, Mr. Speaker. Delegate Jay Jones is a Democrat representing the 89th District, which includes part of Norfolk. Deep Wounds from page 7 • past editions online • subscribe • advertise WWW. VCCQM . ORG V