Voices for Change

Richmonders share their views on the social justice movement

Natalie Andre

A Virginia Union University graduate who is active in the Black Lives Matter movement

I live by faith. The higher power’s been leading me. I’m not a person who sticks in the back. I’m here to speak for the people. My motivation is the fact that I’m Black and I’m living in America, that was built off of slaves, that was built off of Black people. And that’s not right. When you look at the system now, there’s two types: one for white people, one for Black people.

How many lives do you want? How many riots do you want? How many protests do you want? When does it stop? The crime is cops tear-gassing people, spitting on people, driving into crowds and running them over. That is a crime. There’s so much more that needs to be done.

We are not stopping until we see action because everybody’s good for talking, but too many promises have been made in the past, and nothing has changed. When we were peaceful, they didn’t understand us. When we spoke our words, they didn’t understand us. But when we walk the streets, they understand us. So, we not stopping. —As told to Cameron Oglesby

Enjoli Moon

Founder, Afrikana Independent Film Festival and assistant curator of film and special programs, Virginia Commonwealth University’s Institute for Contemporary Art

As a Richmond native, I am overwhelmed with pride for my city right now. We have evolved a great deal over the last 20 years, but what is happening now is a paradigm shift. A deliberate departure from business as usual — business that has traditionally held space for racist ideologies in the name of history. There’s no room for that as we move forward. We’re witnessing community power in action, dismantling statues and statutes that no longer serve us. It’s empowering to see this work being done, and although we’re not on the front lines with them, my family and I stand in solidarity with those out there with their boots on the ground.

They represent generations that have fought for true freedom and equity in our country, and we support this work.

[Gov. Ralph Northam’s] decision [to remove the Robert E. Lee monument] is long overdue. I agree that all symbols that give reverence to this country’s racist history should be removed and destroyed. But that is not the end goal — change must come in institutional policies and individual behaviors that affirm the value of Black lives and dismantle systemic racism. That’s what this is really about. —As told to Carol A.O. Wolf

Marcus Ingram

Photographer who took the first photos of ballerinas Ava Holloway and Kennedy George dancing on the Lee statue

I’ve been a photographer for about nine or 10 years. Holloway’s mother reached out to ask if I would take the photos. I thought it was an opportunity to tell the story from my own perspective. I work on Broad Street, so I’ve taken photos of everything from boarding up the store, Utmost, to the guys at Round Two cleaning up after looting to the protests and the ballerinas.

Ballerinas are strong, but what they do is also very delicate. I think the picture almost shows a form of hope. If anything, I’d want people to take away that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that light being a good thing. From what the protesters are doing and everything happening, there will be a change. Whether it’s big or small, there will be change. Things will be changed.

I want to show that part of the movement — more soft, but also still powerful. For me, I didn’t really like the looting side of the protests. I’m all for the protests and back the movement 100 percent, but I wanted to show something more peaceful.

Every cause that every protester is fighting for, all of it, hopefully there will be a solution, and things will change for the better. People really want that statue down, and I’m all for it. Why would you want your city to be represented by that?

Those two girls? Low-key, they’re the next generation. They’re going to be a part of a new generation of things, and Godspeed that — it’s way better than what anyone before them had to experience. —As told to Eileen Mellon

Yewande Austin

Founder, Global Institute for Diversity and Change

Structural racism is very complex in that it is woven throughout every part of society: education, health care, housing and job opportunities. The uprising we are witnessing right now is not happening because of new issues — we have been fighting these battles for 400 years — but America has decided that small changes are no longer acceptable. America has reached a definitive tipping point.

I’m not surprised to see these issues surface over and over again. As Americans, we’re really good at putting Band-Aids on issues and acting like the problem has been solved. Band-Aids are only designed to temporarily cover a wound while it heals. Racism is a cancer that has never been healed.  

So, the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and countless other victims are like a scab that is peeled off every single time we witness one of our brothers and sisters dying at the hands of professionals whom we hired to protect us. We hurt. We bleed. We’re enraged.  

My hope for the city of Richmond is that we invite more people with different experiences to participate in safe conversations that inspire sustainable solutions. In the midst of our pain, sometimes I fear that we lose allies that could help advance our mission when they’re told “how” to respond to injustice. In order to achieve inclusive excellence, we can no longer afford to treat diversity like a check-off box. I challenge the leadership of this great city to make Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) and anti-racism education a higher priority in times of peace, not just in times of conflict. —As told to Jessica Ronky Haddad

Elizabeth Rice

Civil rights activist, member of The Richmond 34 and founder of BPOS (Be Part of the Solution) Foundation Inc.

I come from a family of civil rights activists. In 1960, I was a student at Virginia Union University. Martin Luther King Jr. used to come there and speak, and sometimes I would introduce him.

Over the past weeks [of protests], I’ve had tears, I’ve had anger, some joy and some hope. In 1960, you had mainly a Black crowd out there trying to get things done and get people organized to say, “Look, we’re human beings, just like you.” This moment, this movement, has been so inspirational. People of all colors and denominations have locked hands in this protest about police brutality and people who have not been given a fair chance. All I’m asking for is an equal seat at the table. Allow me to be me, and you to be you. But don’t deny me being me because you have the privilege of being you.

I’ve been wanting to have a forum with the governor on racism at colleges and high schools to discuss this thing, make some changes and make this day a better day for everybody. I think the governors and mayors really need to come together and institute some restructuring and reforming. This is a time for reconciliation. People from all backgrounds need to be included in this dialogue. And not just talk, we’ve had enough talk. We need some action. We have to come together in unity. We are trying to heal the soul of America. —As told to Eileen Mellon

Ram Bhagat

Manager, School Climate and Culture Strategy, Richmond Public Schools

We are in the midst of a trauma tsunami.  The pandemic revealed that longstanding health disparities are an issue in America. We already knew that. Richmond particularly had this great illumination when almost 100% of deaths from COVID-19 were African Americans. Why was that? It’s one of the questions we have to tackle as a community. There are no easy answers.

We must do a thorough investigation. We must do community-based healing in small groups so we can explore our common experiences around trauma. I think it would go a long way towards healing and rebuilding our communities, to understand the root causes of racism and its legacy. All of us are affected by this because it’s in our cultural waters, like Flint, Michigan. It’s in the air like radon gas.

We must build trust. You can’t just go into a conversation about racism or work around racism if there’s no trust. It’s not going to be comfortable. We also need to look at how to start working on ourselves. Then there’s the big question of justice. How are we going to achieve justice?

At that point we get to acknowledgment — acknowledging the harm, accepting responsibility — then we can start to figure out how we can move forward. But we’re not ready to move forward yet because we don’t have the tools yet.

There is hope in this. And the hope is honest opportunity for progress to emerge. That’s hope. —As told to Susan W. Morgan

Amia Graham

Valedictorian, Thomas Jefferson High School

The first time I realized I was Black and the effect it would have on my life, I was in the fifth grade. Trayvon Martin had just been murdered, and when I looked at his picture on the television, I could see my older cousin in him. I looked at my parents, and they just shook their heads and told me to sit down because we needed to talk. My whole viewpoint on the world changed that night. Up until this point, I had only heard of racism in my history class, and I never fathomed anything like that could happen during my lifetime. Since the young age of 11, I have been forced to see people that look like me murdered in the streets like animals, yet the real animals went home to their families and kissed their children goodnight.

I am angry. I am tired. I am hurt. And I can’t breathe. I am filled with fear every time I see a cop on the road, but when I see my people protesting and chanting “Black Lives Matter,” I am filled with unimaginable joy and pride because MY LIFE MATTERS, and so do the lives of every Black person on this planet. Until that singular fact is acknowledged, nothing will change. —Excerpt from a personal reflection essay