Listen to Dolly’s Story

“I can point to the moment this particular racist, fascist threat became immediate and visible in my life. But I don't see an end. The through line between Unite the Right and January 6 is obvious. When it was my own town as a launching pad for extremism, I can work to keep people safe. It's less clear when it's this whole country that needs to be changed and saved.”

- Dalai Dolly

Dolly 

For the broader world, hashtag Charlottesville might give a mental picture of a moment born from one of the many dramatic photographs of that weekend. The local short hands of A11, A12, or J8 give a false sense of defined times of community standing against violent fascism. During that summer of hate and uncertainty, there weren't always clearly defined moments of conflict or peace. There was a clear start to visible fascist activity. On Mother's Day weekend. Some customers came to our restaurant wearing uniforms we didn't yet recognize. We realized later that they were there for the first torchlight rally that night. That fascist rally kicked off a summer of work trying to figure out what that work was, attending meetings, connecting with some people, holding other people to account, figuring out values and limits. Feeling hope and anxiety and sorrow. Being angry. Loving people and community fiercely. August 13th didn't bring a stop to the work. There were more Nazi sightings, more institutions to hold accountable, more systemic racism to identify and root out. More communities to support and to hold in the face of this trauma. I can point to the moment this particular racist, fascist threat became immediate and visible in my life. But I don't see an end. The through line between Unite the Right and January 6 is obvious. When it was my own town as a launching pad for extremism, I can work to keep people safe. It's less clear when it's this whole country that needs to be changed and saved. I do know that I can keep people fed. I know that I can provide love and care for people, including myself. I know that people can survive great traumas. I believe that we can build pockets of loving resistance so that we can keep going. I don't know if I believe that justice can be formed in this country, a country where Black people and women aren't seen to be fully human. I do believe that love and solidarity are possible within our community. I believe that we can and will do better. I believe that the small, consistent moments of care and support will keep us safe. We keep us safe.

Music credit: Brandon Moeller / Dub Caravan / courtesy of www.epidemicsound.com