I will never forget the moment our hearse drove through the confederate section at a local cemetery. Roughly a dozen family cars trailed behind and my heart sunk as we passed by each one of them. As we came to our tent, a statue of General Robert E. Lee was only a few yards away. While easing the casket out of the back of the hearse, Lee stared, valiantly posed atop a rearing horse, as if ready for battle. I wondered how many other African American burials General Lee had been a part – during his life as a slave holder, and in death as a recurring figure in American cemeteries. Lee commanded the Confederate army and died defending the enslavement of Black women, men and children. And now he resides over their final resting places. The moment of interment is meant to provide comfort and solace to grieving folks, but how can that be possible when the glamorized tributes to figures like General Lee loom over the cemetery? How many families, just like the ones I serve, have been forced to mourn in the shadow of white supremacy?
Cemeteries are meant to be places of peace for both the living and the dead, but I often wonder how well they actually achieve that goal. For people of color in particular, cemeteries can be a cruel reminders of trauma both past and present. Walking through U.S. cemeteries you find graves of African Americans only a few steps away from those dedicated to the memorial of Confederate soldiers. Standing out in stark contrast to the weeping angels and lovingly placed decorations, it is not uncommon to see statues or plaques dedicated to men like Lee or General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. These statues glorify a whitewashed and blood drenched history, their shadows looming heavily over mourners attempting to find solace on the very same grounds.
Arlington National Cemetery, one of the most well-known cemeteries in the United States, occupies land once owned by General Lee, and contains an elaborate memorial dedicated to Confederate soldiers. The intricate monument showcases the thirteen Confederate states as well as soldiers, mythical gods, and a Black enslaved woman holding the child of a white officer. In referencing this particular Confederate memorial, Arlington National Cemetery’s website boasts that “two of these figures are portrayed as African American: an enslaved woman depicted as a ‘Mammy,’ holding the infant child of a white officer, and an enslaved man following his owner to war.”
Let that sink in.