Sin and Sweet Tea: Remembering the Emmanuel 9

A story of faith, forgiveness, but lack of action.

(Trigger Warning: Out of an abundance of caution and respect for those who actually lived that moment and were present, the topics discussed in this article below surround the horrific Charleston church shooting in the summer of 2015. This includes gun violence, Black trauma, and white supremacy)

I spent most of my days throughout the summer before my senior year of high school in bed until 11 am — Like most mornings, it was the dog days of summer in South Carolina, which meant it was so hot outside that the air was usually sticky and heat indexes hit the low 100s (and we haven’t even hit August heat yet). But on this particular morning, I woke up early, and the sweltering temperatures were the last thing on my mind. I remember the morning of June 18th, 2015, and I could not believe what my ears had heard. I arose to the sound of Columbia’s most popular Black anchor, Judi Gatson of WIS-TV, reporting the news.

All over the internet, the news, and every national media outlet, reporters were live from Charleston, South Carolina — a place about 118 miles away from the “big metropolitan city” of Columbia. This time they were not reporting on the College of Charleston, nor anything about its bustling “Southern Charm.” This day was grim. As the Earth stood still, I woke up to the headlines, text messages alerts, and newspapers reading: “9 shot and killed in Charleston church shooting, police still looking for the gunman”.

(Grace Beahm Alford/The Post And Courier via AP)

When initially taking this all in, I was so numb to the constant mass shootings that have become the mark of patriotism in this country. I did not even acknowledge the magnitude of this awful tragedy. My childhood had been predicated on the normalcy of mass shootings in our country that I could not even realize what happened. This should be unsettling.

For context, a 21-year old white supremacist who will remain nameless for the duration of this story (because I do not believe in remembering the names of white nationalists) entered in an African Methodist Episcopal church, went into the building while members of the church were having bible study, and murdered nine innocent Black lives. In a manifesto written before he committed the act, he wrote that he wanted to start a “race war” and that “blacks were getting too much power.”

When reading this, you should be uncomfortable. There is no silver lining. A white supremacist killed nine Black people who decided to spend their Wednesday night worshiping and learning about the Bible’s teachings. It was the last time they had the opportunity to do that.

Growing up in a Southern Baptist church in South Carolina, church service was not just predicated to one day. Bible Study on Wednesday nights is a common occurrence and a tradition in many churches. I had gone to Bible study sometimes growing up and especially more often as I got older.

As I continued to watch the news throughout the day, I realized that the scene the reporters described was very similar to the quintessential Bible study that I would go to every Wednesday was. A room with a few people, most older elderly matriarchs of the church, would end each night in prayer, then follow with hugs and ask about each other’s subsequent weeks.

I wondered what if the murderer decided to come to my church’s Bible study that night. What if things would have been different that night? I think about this to this day.

(Wallpaper Flare, 2021)

Unfortunately, the people that gathered in the Mother Emmanuel AME church did not get the chance to end their Bible study with hugs, nor were they able to ask about each other’s week. It was a night that ended in terror and sent shockwaves throughout the world.

As the days went on, in my 17-year old brain, I started to conceptualize what happened. We witnessed a modern-day lynching. A hate crime for everyone to see that had just taken place in one of the nation’s oldest Black churches.

Following the days of the shooting, we learned the names of the victims. Nine killed. Three survived. On June 21st, 2015, three days following the shooting, I remember waking up to go to church. My mom woke my sister and me up early for church like any other Sunday, but this day felt immensely different. As we prepared our Sunday Best, we knew that service would be uncommon. Even on the car ride over, we stopped at my grandmother’s house and saw the beginning of the Mother Emmanuel AME Church’s service broadcast, just four days after the shooting.

When we arrived at church, everyone felt the weight of the massacre. We cried in the pews. Listening to the hymns, the way the organist played that day evoked a different emotion. We felt like we had lost our own family members. We may not have ever met the nine people who did not get that chance to worship that Sunday, but we all knew someone like one of the tragically killed people.

“My mom would wake my sister and me up early for church any other Sunday, but this one was different.”

This first week was grief. The second week was action. Fast forward to June 27th, which was another day I would never forget. Political pundits everywhere pointed to how we could move forward as a state and what was next. Talks of removing the confederate flag from the State House became a topic of discussion since the murderer was seen taking pictures with the flag on a website linked to his name. There are even some people who think that is a representation of “Southern heritage.” (We’ll revisit this more when I embark on my memory of watching these flags parade around my university campus in undergrad)

At a protest, Bree Newsome Bass, a Black organizer, and activist scaled the 30-foot pole of where the Confederate flag resided on the State House grounds in Columbia and took it down herself. As police waited for her as she descended the flagpole, she recited the 23rd Psalm. Often we credit the South Carolina legislature and gubernatorial leadership for the official removal on July 10th after a vote on July 9th, but we must give an immense amount of credit to Bree Newsome. Without her courageous, bold act of direct action activism, we may still be living in a state that flies that flag. Ms. Newsome Bass’ bold leadership forces people to be uncomfortable and puts direct pressure on the legislature to make that move. As advocates, that is a skill that must be implemented to enact grassroots level change.

(Cornell Chronicle, 2019)

As with many social and political movements, the chatter died down, the flag was removed, and some of life got back to normal. Privilege allowed us not to think about it because it did not personally affect us. We began to focus wholly on ourselves once again and allowed ourselves to forget that an unforgettable and blatant hate crime had just occurred in our state.

One of the saddest parts of this story is the lack of federal gun legislation that has passed since the shooting. In other parts of the world, when mass shootings like this occurred, there was swift action. In Great Britain, in 1996, after a gunman killed sixteen children, their government passed gun legislation the next year by banning most private firearms. We must not forget the next step is concrete policy.

Another sad fact is the way we’ve framed this conversation. For years Black youth have led the charge in advocating for gun control issues and against gun violence. Unfortunately, after the Parkland shooting, it was not until the March for our Lives, and other white-centered movements advocating for gun control took mainstream media, was the needle moved. They were given praise for their efforts. Black folx have been at the center of this conversation for YEARS, and we must continue to uplift our voices and be at the center when crafting intersectional policy about these issues.

Mass shootings are defined as the killing with a firearm of four or more people in 24 hours.

The amount of mass shootings that have occurred last year (2020) as of writing is 541 even despite the COVID-19 pandemic. (Unfortunately, this number will go up). Gun culture has been a huge part of American culture and has a far more number of firearm homicides and mass shootings than other countries. Add that the National Rifle Association (NRA) pours into our political landscape with the massive amount of money this culture has been completely normalized.

I may be a man of faith, but I am TIRED of thoughts and prayers. Thoughts and prayers will not bring back the innocent lives killed. Why do we live in a country where we make it easier to buy a gun than it is for someone to have adequate access to free and universal health care to live? We make these things seem normal, but it is not. It should not be.

We have witnessed Sandy Hook. El Paso. Orlando. We saw all of these, we prayed, we supported the community.

That was not enough.

We patted ourselves on the back each year to pass symbolic resolutions that honor these victims without action. To my Democratic and Republican members, your name will be in history in every state that does nothing every year. It will go down in history for never passing legislation that effectively changes how we gain access to guns. We must act now.

If any of this makes you as angry as it should, call your local legislator’s office. (If you have the resources to do so). Take five minutes out of your lunch break to send your representative an email. Organize and start a petition. Center Black voices on this subject. Continue to resist. Look at this upcoming legislative session to see who’s filed bills on gun legislation and get people fired up about it. It may not happen this year, but the work we do now will affect our children. Let us advocate and fight for the world we want them to live in.

(Michelle Sandberg, Getty Images)

If we do not, then we will continue to witness these senseless acts. This is not rocket science; it is an act of human empathy. I will leave you with a quote from one of the founders of Black Lives Matter, Peatrisse Cullors, “we are a generation called to action.” Let us take action and honor the Charleston Nine and not let their names go down in vain:

Reverend Clementa Pickney

Sharonda Coleman-Singleton

Cynthia Hurd

Tywanza Sanders

Myra Thompson

Ethel Lance

Daniel Simmons

Depayne Middleton-Doctor

Susie Jackson

(ABC News 4, 2017)

This is a series that is near my heart and really evokes a lot of emotion from me — growing up Black in the South is my story, and my words to this paper are my song. I must sing from the mountaintops as I authentically lean into my words; with every word comes a new melody.

(If you are interested in advocating for gun control legislation in South Carolina, Representative Wendy Brawley of Hopkins has pre-filed bill “H.3499” that would amend the SC Code of Law to institute an assault weapons ban in South Carolina. Yes, bills like this have been filed for years, and does not mean we should stop rallying, but support organizations that have been doing this work for years; we must hit the ground running now.)