John,

Three years ago today, I woke up in my bed in Baltimore, MD to a phone call from Leigh-Ann. We were excited about our impending move back to Charlottesville, and she had gone down a week early for orientation at UVA’s business school. I can never forget her words as I pressed my ear to the phone: “Cam, I don’t feel safe getting out of the car. There’s a group of men with Confederate flags all around me.”

Having seen images from the night before—and worried about the tension surrounding the Unite the Right rally—I worried for my wife. At the same time, I worried for my youngest sister—a UVA student in town over the summer, whose apartment was located in the midst of the growing tension. I immediately jumped in my car and started the 3-hour drive to Charlottesville. I called my good friend, Greg Jackson—a UVA grad, DC resident, and experienced organizer. I told him that I was headed to Charlottesville to be with Leigh-Ann and make sure my sister was safe. He asked me to pick him up on the way down because he wanted to help. In a moment where we felt completely helpless, we wanted to find some way to face the threat head-on.

Luckily, Leigh-Ann was able to get out of that parking garage unharmed. She made her way into the building when she saw a group of classmates walking together. My sister was able to get to her car and drive to my parents' house in Spotsylvania. But their safety didn’t change our urgency, as more and more images of white supremacists and violence filled our phones.

Greg began organizing virtually as I drove—connecting with his network of local activists and organizers, but also with alumni and with students we knew on Grounds. Just before 2 p.m., as we were still en route to Charlottesville, we received the news that Heather Heyer was tragically murdered by a neo-Nazi/white supremacist who drove his car into a crowd of peaceful protestors. Once we were about 20 minutes outside of town, we pulled over on the side of the road and just took a minute to reflect and prepare. We looked across the road and saw an incredibly vibrant rainbow crossing the sky.

Everyone I know in Charlottesville has a story about that day. A11/A12 forever changed this community, and changed the association that the entire world has with this city. In the three years since, I have seen so much power from this community—so much determination and so much will for meaningful change. I have seen it manifest in educational equity work, in food justice work, in addressing health disparities and even in the local elections that have taken place. I have seen the young people of this city lead us, and I have seen allyship in its truest sense. Sometimes, though, I still see the core challenges with racial dynamics that led us to those unfortunate moments.

This email is just a reflection—my reflection—on a painful day. This sad anniversary dredges up a lot of feelings for folks across our community. There remains a tremendous amount of work to do in order to heal from the wounds that were opened. But I know that there is a community here, in Charlottesville, that will fight every single day to secure justice, peace, equity, fairness, and representation. I have hope—and deep belief—in what we’re all doing to make sure that hate truly has no place here.

Today, my thoughts are with all who were there and all who were impacted by the events of August 12, 2017. Today, I’m doubling down on my efforts to be a part of the positive change our community—and our society—needs. Let’s find healing in reflection, so we can heal the spaces we call home.

In solidarity,

Cameron
Dr. Cameron Webb