Anyone who has lived in Charlottesville for over a year has likely spent some time explaining where and who we are. No, we’re not in North Carolina. Home of University of Virginia. A little blue dot in a sea of red. That changed suddenly after the events of August 12, when the residents of Charlottesville said no to hate.

I spent much of this spring interviewing potential Au Pairs from around the world. For the first time in ten years, candidates were familiar with the name Charlottesville. For many around the world we have become known as the city that unified against hate. The city that stood up against racism.

Meanwhile, another conversation emerged. A conversation that has been happening for a long time,  but has stayed within quiet circles, has bubbled to the surface. As many of us were congratulating ourselves for the united front shown to the nazis, others were speaking up about the disparity in Charlottesville. The legacy of racism and segregation became a conversation happening in the open. People of color within our community have generously gifted us with the insight that Charlottesville is far from a welcoming, safe space for them. So in the wake of a short term victory, many in Charlottesville struggle to understand how to upend the ideas of white supremacy that our city was founded on and transform ourselves into the progressive, inclusive city we want to be. There is much work to be done in this area, but there is also a resolve among many not to return to the status quo that has reigned for so many centuries.

A few months before Charlottesville became a lightning rod for racist gatherings, the Unitarian Universalist denomination was also shaken by latent racism bubbling to the surface. A poorly handled hiring decision in our national organization was called out as racist by one of the people vying for the position, our own Christina Rivera. Our organization was shaken enough that three staff at the national level resigned their positions, including the president at that time. A subsequent report on this hiring process and decision has supported the claim of bias and racism.

The racism Chris experienced, and her refusal to accept it quietly, set in motion a conversation within our denomination that has been a long time coming. For many of us who are white, discussing racism so frequently is a new experience. Being expected to hold this pain of what some experience on a daily basis in the front of our minds and hearts has been difficult. Not surprisingly, it is fatiguing.

We all know racism exists. I’m pretty sure we all agree that it’s bad. But we are now being asked to delve into these uncomfortable feelings on a regular basis as our church, and our denomination, struggle to react to and rectify bias within our own community. This was so much easier when we were able to point to others, people with white pointy hats and robes, people wearing red baseball caps, as the people exhibiting racism. Now we are being asked, expected even, to look inward at ourselves and our processes and how we might be participating in upholding the white supremacist culture that has centered whiteness and damaged people of color within Unitarian Universalism. And it’s hard.

Then, amongst all that we were experiencing, another assault happened. Chris received an anonymous, hate-filled note attacking not only her, but her family as well. The reaction from the church leadership triune was swift and clear: There is no place for hate at TJMC. There was no sugar coating what had happened, or the response to it. We were not asked politely to stand together as allies. We were told, bluntly and clearly, what Chris needed to support her, as the victim in this situation. This response decentered whiteness, not prioritizing the feelings of the white people in the congregation, and chose to center a person of color, the recipient of the attack, instead.

For many, this response was felt to be inappropriate, too harsh, improper tone. For others, nothing short of the strength of this response would have been enough. From one end of the spectrum to the other, there is certainly a person with that position. After all, we’re UUs. Seeing things from different perspectives, acknowledging a variety of truths is what we do.

We find ourselves now at a crossroad. Some feel that we have spent too much time and energy discussing racism and the incidents that Chris experienced. Others feel that we are finally having a discussion that has been put off too long. There is a movement afoot to release our settled minister and it is partly motivated and energized by his response to the racist note and racism in general.

So which way will we go? Will we stand together and decide that now is the time to begin the difficult work of decentering whiteness and upending white supremacy within our denomination? Or will we find a way to silence these difficult discussions and get back to working on our own personal spirituality from the dominant, white, perspective?

One thing is clear. Whichever direction TJMC chooses to take over the coming months, people will leave. Not everyone will be happy. And this is not new. People of color, and people from other marginalized groups, have been coming and leaving quietly for years.

Another thing that is clear is that Charlottesville has become known within Unitarian Universalism. What happened in August is seen and discussed in UU churches around the country. They see that we stood up and literally drove the nazis out of our town. They also see that we are the congregation where a person of color, one who had so recently experienced racism within our organization as documented and confirmed by Committee on Institutional Change, was attacked by a member of her own congregation.

We have a choice to make. Do we listen to our friends and neighbors who tell us that Charlottesville has never been a safe place that offers equal opportunity to white and black alike? Or do we turn away from this conversation and watch the other liberal churches in Charlottesville, Sojourners, Unity, Quakers engage in building a new path forward. Do we support our staff member who experienced racism from within her own congregation? Or, do we decide that she is not worthy of support because she didn’t ask nicely enough? Do we embrace this opportunity to become a truly welcoming church, the church we claim to be? Or do we go back to the comfort of believing that these questions and conundrums should be directed only at those outside our church, the people who use racial epithets and wave nazi banners?

The crossroad we face is not one we face alone. Congregations across the country, and our own national organization, are at this crossroad as well. Which side of history will we choose to stand on? Who will be left standing next to us when we have made that choice?

Sheri Edgecomb, who wrote this reflection, is a long-time member of TJMCUU