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An Open Letter & Open Report / Black History Month, Part 5
From: HK Edgerton [email@example.com]
Date: Sat, Feb 27, 2016
Subject: An Open Letter & Open Report / Black History Month Part 5
To: siegels1 [firstname.lastname@example.org]
Dear Ms. Lunelle,
On Wednesday, February 17, 2016, in the continuing celebration of Black History Month, I would don the uniform of the Southern Soldier, and post his Colors at the front entrance of the
prestigious private school so named Carolina Day in the City of Asheville, North Carolina.
Approximately one hour later, a police vehicle from the Township of Biltmore Forest would pull adjacent to where I stood. “Good morning, HK,” would come the greeting from one of the two
officers that I had known for years. “HK, I am responding from a request from the school. I believe that the Asheville Police Department has already told them as I shall tell you. As long as you
stand where you are, I cannot force you to move. However, they would ask if I would see if you would go across the street.”
“No sir,” would be my reply. “I want to stand right here.” “Fine with us,’ he would say, ‘We only want to look out for your well being.”
Shortly thereafter, a young Black woman would exit the school parking lot. “Mr. Edgerton, I run a program here at the school named Building Bridges. And this morning, I want to build a bridge
with you, And I want you to know that I know who you are, and the gigantic efforts you have promulgated in the theater of human and civil rights not only in this city, but around the country.”
“However, I am so confused by your efforts with the flag because of all the negative connotations that surround its image.” As I began to tell her about the establishment of the Public School
system in 1865, and the so called period of reconstruction that pitted the African people against their Southern White family as they were used as the weapon of choice by Thaddeus Stevens and
his cronies to break the spirit of the Southern White man, we would be joined by a White couple in our conversation.
I would tell them about how the so called Freedman’s Bureau would be used by the Northern Carpetbaggers and Southern scalawags as a electioneering apparatus to place and keep into power those
thieves like Grant for over 12 years by the now so called Freed Africans as they continued the stealing and raping of the Southern treasures as they had done during the War. The loyal Southern
Africans would pay a heavy price as the love and respect they had gained was continually pushed asunder by this man who lied about how he had invaded our homeland to free them.
As I began to talk about the Kansas Nebraska Act, the Missouri Compromise, and the Louisiana Purchase, the Biltmore Forest Police would arrive again. They would tell us that someone from the
school had called and said that there was an altercation going on between myself and a group of people. No would come the reply from all of us. “Y’all have a good day,” they would say.
They would all leave before I could finish my dialogue. However, four young students would now exit the parking lot of the school, and ask if they could take a picture with me. I would comply,
and spend two more hours at the school. Before I began to furl my flag, a young Black began to shout out to me from a passing car, “Black lives matter.” Less than 30 minutes later, I would learn
that another young Black man would be killed by a Black man less than five miles from where I stood. What hypocrisy, I thought. I would love to have been a fly on the wall in this school
after all of this. I could only look forward to the next day of battling the new Reconstruction now ushered in by Nikki Haley in, of all places, my mom’s South Carolina, where the War for
Southern Independence had begun for all of us who are Southern. God bless you!
Honorary Life Member
Jackson Rangers Camp 1917 Sons of Confederate Veterans