I am Heather Heier

Oh, what a day. In all my life I have never been moved to tears so suddenly, by something that took me by such great surprise that I immediately wept. I’ve cried many times in my life, too many go count really, but not like this. Today I cried as I looked at the photo of a beautiful stranger, gone to soon. A woman filled with peaceful energy, yet lost to the hands of hate. I cried because it felt too real, and I cried because I, too, am Heather Heier. We share a name, albeit spelled differently, we share brown hair and gentle smiles, and we share an understanding of what is right, and what it means to be empathetic and to show up for others. 

Heather Heyer died as a direct result of hate, brought on by evil. I honestly cannot stop thinking about her. Her brown hair. Her smile. Her name. I am shaken in a way I cannot explain, shaken to the core. There is a chance that if I lived in Charlottesville, that I too would have been there—not holding a torch, or bloodthirsty for violence and desperate for a chance, any chance, to share my evil beliefs—but there like Heather Heyer, for peace, to confront the hate, to stand up for what is right, and to comfort the truly oppressed by showing that not all white faces are evil. 

I cried because I had friends contact me asking if I heard the name of the victim of the violence in Charlottesville. No one thought it was me, or was fearful I was harmed in any way, but friends reached out to me because hearing my name associated with a chilling headline about a blatant act of domestic terrorism, a hate crime so hard to fathom, brought them one step closer to the sadness and tragedy our nation is experiencing. It suddenly seemed so damn real, and those close to me felt a collective heaviness. 

From what I can tell Heather Heyer was a generous soul who was liked by coworkers, and loved dearly by family. She was also only 32, the age this Heather Heier was when I got married. I know how much my life has changed in the 14 years since I walked down the aisle, and I weep for the lost years and opportunities taken away from this brave woman, whose death was a direct result of simply showing up for what she believed in. She died at the hands of hate and fear, but thankfully was surrounded by the loving kindness of others who also decided to get off the couch, and walk in protest of the hate-mongers. 

Heather Heyer died without power or platform, but left behind a legacy of decency and peace after risking her life ... in peaceful protest. Her real power lies in her story, and rose by the mere act of showing up. No one in my life will forget her name, and no one should. 

Good decent people know this is not normal adult behavior—that wearing a swastika on your arm makes you look like an imbecile, that showing up with torches makes you look like village idiots, and that standing there in your polo shirts makes you just as culpable as those in full nazi regalia. Good Christian people know that Jesus would not condone hate, support prejudice, or give a fist bump to humans who use fear as a weapon. And good people know hate when they see it. And sadly, we have all seen it. Yet we have somehow forgotten just how powerful hate can be, for we got lazy, and too comfortable with hateful rhetoric. 

So let’s remember Heather Heyer as a kind soul, like me and you, who wore her heart on her sleeve, not a repugnant arm band. Let’s remember the beautiful women who died bringing peace, not the angry mob who begged for attention in a public square, and collectively slaughtered an innocent. 

Tonight I spent a soggy hour at a park with a few friends and hundreds of strangers. We stood in the rain at a vigil for Charlottesville. I stood there in the crowd and listened to speakers pray for Heather. It was surreal, and I could barely contain my sadness, but I did—for I am alive. Heather Heyer is not. And that is a tragedy beyond my comprehension. Hearing my name spoken in eulogy was an awkward and heavy moment I cannot fully explain, or say I was prepared for. My heart skipped a beat, several probably. My heart is broken for this woman, her family, and our world.

This situation is a wake up call. Black Lives Matter. Get over it. You are not better than someone because you are white. Period. And if you have ever worn a nazi arm band, or carried a stupid torch at a Klan rally, or believe that white people are somehow superior—literally everyone else is better than you. EVERYONE.