My Relationship with the Battle Flag of the Confederacy
First, a clarification. What many people consider to be the Confederate Flag is actually not the flag of the Confederacy. The national flags of the Confederacy started exempt from the Battle Flag, so the first and second iterations of the national flag (the Stars and Bars) looked like this:
We rarely see this except at museums or battlefield exhibits, including those battlefields the national military parks such as Shiloh and Fort Pillow State Historic Park north of Memphis (site of a horrible slaughter of black Federal soldiers -- too lightly addressed at the History Channel site and similar national and state Web sites. It's not a controversy. It was a massacre. Simple).
What people normally take for the flag is the Virginia Battle Flag, which was never actually adopted by the Confederacy, but as faux-historians use symbols to frame the narrative, variations of the Virginia Battle Flag has been co-opted by devotees of the Old South as their preferred emblem:
More information about the Confederacy's confusing flag identity problem can be found here.
I've seen some form of the battle flag my entire life (except in Canada; go figure). Living in Tennessee, Mississippi, Arkansas, and Texas, this should surprise no one. I've seen stickers on trucks, entire billboards with the symbol, the flag itself flying over businesses and homes. Depending on what part of what state, the battle flag is part of the scenery and shouldn't surprise anyone. Sometimes the flag is paired on license plates or bumper stickers with the phrase "Heritage, Not Hate," an attempt to engage the display/possessor and the audience who has to be either ignorant about history or disingenuous in purpose.
My family never displayed the battle flag for any reason -- never in a room, a bumper sticker, never over any of our properties, never a t-shirt. I can't recall if any of us owned any Lynyrd Skynyrd albums, some of which use the emblem. That would have been the closest any of my family would have come to owning/displaying anything with a confederate symbol in it.
This is somewhat noteworthy for a few reasons. Even though I was born in Ontario, I was largely raised in the southern states; and though the first few years of school were in private institutions, most were in public ones. I did see the battle flag in high school on some people's cars and trucks, sometimes drawn on binders and such, but except in Mississippi, which has the battle cross in its field, the battle flag proper wasn't displayed in schools to my memory.
What is more important is my own family history. My great, great, great grandfather William A. Martin (born 1832 in South Carolina) was a poor farmer in Arkansas when he enlisted in the 19th (Dockery) Arkansas Infantry during the War Between the States, the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War. We don't know why he enlisted, except that he had seven children and not much land in Nevada County, Arkansas, and perhaps he felt the pay was better than farming; perhaps he did it for glory; perhaps he felt the cause of the Confederacy was just; perhaps he wanted to get away from his family. He fought at Mars Hill during the Siege of Vicksburg (May 18 – July 4, 1863) and was taken prisoner. From there, he was taken to Camp Morton, near Indianapolis and died of disease on 7 October 1863. He is buried at Crown Hill Cemetery there in Indianapolis.
According to Veterans Affairs,
Robert Lee was a Primitive Baptist preacher and -- I need to check this -- a radio shop owner. The Primitive Baptists are Calvinists, and among their creeds, they believe in
Fun group. His son Troy, however, was a rebel in several areas, and that fundamentalist religious fervor didn't pass down to my father or me; we have our own obsessive compulsive disorder behaviors, but religion is not one of them. And though my father today has his political extremist tendencies, he would never hoist the Confederate Battle Flag over his house or put such a sticker on his car (he's very anti bumper sticker, anyway).
When I was more involved in genealogy, I considered joining the Sons of the Confederate Veterans, by virtue of my CSA ancestors -- William A Martin and some other fathers. Frankly, I was too lazy to fill out the paperwork and never applied. If I had, I would have received some materials -- perhaps a window sticker, even -- with the battle flag on it and perhaps I would have displayed those materials somewhere. But it never happened. I've had friends who play soldier during reenactments -- all on the CSA side, I believe -- and though I'm interested in history and love walking battlefields, I love the peace and solemnity, not the sense of honor, patriotism, heritage.
And so it comes down to this. The battle flag is not an emblem of heritage to me, not one to be proud of. After all, these were rebels against their country, traitors, in fact, to the United States of America. The general pardon after Appomattox and Reconstruction do nothing to erase those two facts. Then Jim Crow and the overall oppression in the South is nothing to be proud of on any level. I realize it offends many people, and that's just reality.
If there is a judgement, as a nation, each of us will beg for forgiveness for our hatred and our fears because of others' poverty, skin color, and more. A cheap sticker on the back of a F-150 window shows nothing but simple ignorance -- a lack of knowledge -- both of ancestry and of the present and of all futures.
Though each of us carries sins too ugly to name, the sin of hatred that the battle flag really represents is, finally, only a part of the human condition. It's a visual manifestation of an inner sickness that affects us all. Though politically incorrect, in truth, most of us have the cancer of hate and fear in us to some degree. Not having that sticker on my window doesn't mean I'm not a bigot; not having the flag fly over my business doesn't mean I don't hate people who don't pray like me; not having a t-shirt with the cross and stars in a field of red doesn't make me any less burdened by fear. Like all symbols, it only has meaning if I give it power.
And I choose not to. It's empty and meaningless to me. I choose who to love and who to hate. I've hated too many people in this world, feared too many people who ultimately became meaningless to me. Just because -- as I do believe -- the battle flag does represent hate, not heritage, I choose to forgive those who are still burdened by that hate.
I don't have a flag I can truthfully honor. I don't have a standard to proudly bear. Not Canada, not the United Nations, not the USA. These symbols have become empty to me. The Confederate Battle Flag was never even close to being worthy of my attention. People are important. Petty remembrances of a dead rebellion don't deserve my attention.
Be strong, and courageous.
Dixi et salvavi animam meam
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Twitter @comstone
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 |
| Stars and Bars "Victory or Death" c/o Museum of the Confederacy <http://www.moc.org/collections-archives/flags-confederacy> |
What people normally take for the flag is the Virginia Battle Flag, which was never actually adopted by the Confederacy, but as faux-historians use symbols to frame the narrative, variations of the Virginia Battle Flag has been co-opted by devotees of the Old South as their preferred emblem:
 |
| Virginia Battle Flag c/o Museum of the Confederacy <http://www.moc.org/collections-archives/flags-confederacy> |
I've seen some form of the battle flag my entire life (except in Canada; go figure). Living in Tennessee, Mississippi, Arkansas, and Texas, this should surprise no one. I've seen stickers on trucks, entire billboards with the symbol, the flag itself flying over businesses and homes. Depending on what part of what state, the battle flag is part of the scenery and shouldn't surprise anyone. Sometimes the flag is paired on license plates or bumper stickers with the phrase "Heritage, Not Hate," an attempt to engage the display/possessor and the audience who has to be either ignorant about history or disingenuous in purpose.
My family never displayed the battle flag for any reason -- never in a room, a bumper sticker, never over any of our properties, never a t-shirt. I can't recall if any of us owned any Lynyrd Skynyrd albums, some of which use the emblem. That would have been the closest any of my family would have come to owning/displaying anything with a confederate symbol in it.
This is somewhat noteworthy for a few reasons. Even though I was born in Ontario, I was largely raised in the southern states; and though the first few years of school were in private institutions, most were in public ones. I did see the battle flag in high school on some people's cars and trucks, sometimes drawn on binders and such, but except in Mississippi, which has the battle cross in its field, the battle flag proper wasn't displayed in schools to my memory.
What is more important is my own family history. My great, great, great grandfather William A. Martin (born 1832 in South Carolina) was a poor farmer in Arkansas when he enlisted in the 19th (Dockery) Arkansas Infantry during the War Between the States, the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War. We don't know why he enlisted, except that he had seven children and not much land in Nevada County, Arkansas, and perhaps he felt the pay was better than farming; perhaps he did it for glory; perhaps he felt the cause of the Confederacy was just; perhaps he wanted to get away from his family. He fought at Mars Hill during the Siege of Vicksburg (May 18 – July 4, 1863) and was taken prisoner. From there, he was taken to Camp Morton, near Indianapolis and died of disease on 7 October 1863. He is buried at Crown Hill Cemetery there in Indianapolis.
 |
| Confederate Memorials at Crown Hill Cemetery, Indianapolis, Indiana. (C) US Department Veterans Affairs |
William A. Martin died, his family became impoverished, his widow applied and received his military pension in 1892 and remarried somewhere along the line. William's son Joseph Thomas Martin (born 1856 in Georgia while the Martins were migrating across the south) outlived three wives and married a fourth who finally outlived him. His third wife, Mary M. Daniel (born 1861 in Arkansas) bore Joseph seven children (two other wives bore him five more children, for a total of twelve children). One of Joseph and Mary's sons was named Robert Lee Martin, born 29 Nov 1893 in Cale, Nevada County, Arkansas. He's another story and from there, the family gets really difficult to explain.The Crown Hill Cemetery Confederate Plot was established in 1931 as a memorial and burial place for 1,616 unknown Confederate Soldiers. Most of the soldiers interred here died at Camp Morton, a Union prison on the north side of Indianapolis. Between 1862 and 1865, at least 9,000 Confederate prisoners passed through the gates of Camp Morton. Initially, deceased prisoners were interred in the nearby Greenlawn Cemetery. In 1912, the federal government erected an imposing, 27' tall Confederate monument in Greenlawn Cemetery, featuring the names of persons who perished at Camp Morton. However, Greenlawn Cemetery closed in 1928, and the Confederate monument was relocated to the city's Garfield Park to make it more visible to the public. Five years later, the remains of the Confederate soldiers were moved to Crown Hill Cemetery, and placed in a mass grave. On top of the mound a new granite monument was erected, commemorating the unknown Confederate dead.Crown Hill Cemetery, including the Confederate Plot and the nearby Crown Hill National Cemetery - established for the Union dead - was listed on the National Register for Historic Places in February 1973.
Robert Lee was a Primitive Baptist preacher and -- I need to check this -- a radio shop owner. The Primitive Baptists are Calvinists, and among their creeds, they believe in
- Total Depravity of Natural Man
- Personal and Unconditional Election
- Special Atonement
- Irresistible Grace
- Preservation of the Saints
- Direct Operation of the Holy Spirit
- Revealing Gospel
Fun group. His son Troy, however, was a rebel in several areas, and that fundamentalist religious fervor didn't pass down to my father or me; we have our own obsessive compulsive disorder behaviors, but religion is not one of them. And though my father today has his political extremist tendencies, he would never hoist the Confederate Battle Flag over his house or put such a sticker on his car (he's very anti bumper sticker, anyway).
When I was more involved in genealogy, I considered joining the Sons of the Confederate Veterans, by virtue of my CSA ancestors -- William A Martin and some other fathers. Frankly, I was too lazy to fill out the paperwork and never applied. If I had, I would have received some materials -- perhaps a window sticker, even -- with the battle flag on it and perhaps I would have displayed those materials somewhere. But it never happened. I've had friends who play soldier during reenactments -- all on the CSA side, I believe -- and though I'm interested in history and love walking battlefields, I love the peace and solemnity, not the sense of honor, patriotism, heritage.
And so it comes down to this. The battle flag is not an emblem of heritage to me, not one to be proud of. After all, these were rebels against their country, traitors, in fact, to the United States of America. The general pardon after Appomattox and Reconstruction do nothing to erase those two facts. Then Jim Crow and the overall oppression in the South is nothing to be proud of on any level. I realize it offends many people, and that's just reality.
If there is a judgement, as a nation, each of us will beg for forgiveness for our hatred and our fears because of others' poverty, skin color, and more. A cheap sticker on the back of a F-150 window shows nothing but simple ignorance -- a lack of knowledge -- both of ancestry and of the present and of all futures.
Though each of us carries sins too ugly to name, the sin of hatred that the battle flag really represents is, finally, only a part of the human condition. It's a visual manifestation of an inner sickness that affects us all. Though politically incorrect, in truth, most of us have the cancer of hate and fear in us to some degree. Not having that sticker on my window doesn't mean I'm not a bigot; not having the flag fly over my business doesn't mean I don't hate people who don't pray like me; not having a t-shirt with the cross and stars in a field of red doesn't make me any less burdened by fear. Like all symbols, it only has meaning if I give it power.
And I choose not to. It's empty and meaningless to me. I choose who to love and who to hate. I've hated too many people in this world, feared too many people who ultimately became meaningless to me. Just because -- as I do believe -- the battle flag does represent hate, not heritage, I choose to forgive those who are still burdened by that hate.
I don't have a flag I can truthfully honor. I don't have a standard to proudly bear. Not Canada, not the United Nations, not the USA. These symbols have become empty to me. The Confederate Battle Flag was never even close to being worthy of my attention. People are important. Petty remembrances of a dead rebellion don't deserve my attention.
Be strong, and courageous.
Dixi et salvavi animam meam
Google +
Twitter @comstone
Professional Blog
