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Sines v. Kessler, day five

Each day, we’ll have the latest news from the courtroom in the Sines v. Kessler Unite the Right trial. For coverage from previous days, check the list of links at the bottom of this page.

On the fifth day of the Sines v. Kessler trial, plaintiffs’ attorneys brought to the stand two former UVA students. Natalie Romero and Devin Willis are among the nine plaintiffs in the case. They both counterprotested at the Friday night torch rally on UVA Grounds and at the Unite the Right rally the following day in August 2017. 

Romero took the stand first. She described the fear of that weekend and the injuries she suffered in the August 12 car attack. Later, after a grueling and emotional three hours of testimony in the morning, Romero also faced cross examination from Christopher Cantwell and Richard Spencer, the two defendants representing themselves, whom she and her fellow plaintiffs accuse of conspiring to commit racially motivated violence that permanently scarred her.  

“I just heard loudness. Almost like thunder. Like the earth was growling, essentially,” Romero recalled of the moments before the racist mob arrived at the Thomas Jefferson statue, where she was huddled with a group of about 15 fellow UVA students. 

Now 24, Romero said she could make out the mob’s chants, including “blood and soil” and “white power,” as the angry group approached. 

“There’s another one I hate repeating,” said Romero, who sobbed at times on the stand. “I hear it in my nightmares. I literally hear the same cadence to the ‘You will not replace us.’ That one was just so terrifying.”

A Houston, Texas, native, Romero said she was the first in her family to attend college, and came to the University of Virginia on multiple scholarships. In addition to ROTC, she was part of the Posse program, which provides students from low-income families special advisors before and during their time at UVA, and creates a cohort to provide support. 

She had completed an internship working on environmental issues that summer, and was in high spirits as she returned to Charlottesville from a road trip to Houston that Friday. 

“I took my last selfie of my face without what it looks like now,” she said, referencing scars on her face and body that resulted from the August 12 car attack. “Then I met up with friends, and we had dinner together.”

When Romero’s dinner group learned that the white nationalists were planning to march to UVA that night, she and two friends, including fellow plaintiff Willis, headed to the Thomas Jefferson statue in front of the Rotunda. Willis also testified about his terror as the mob of white nationalists arrived.

“This ocean of light and flames starts spilling over both sides of the steps,” said Willis, recalling the xenophobic chanting.

“They rush the entire area and surround all of us in a matter of seconds,” he said.

Like Romero, Willis had also just completed his first year at UVA in the summer of 2017. He was a member of the Black Student Alliance and recalled being targeted by the mob at the statue. Men sprayed his feet with lighter fluid and threw lit torches towards him. 

“I thought their strategy was going to be to burn us alive,” he said. 

Both Romero and Willis were eventually able to escape and rinse mace from their eyes.

Despite the terror of that night, the former students testified that they were not deterred from heading to downtown Charlottesville the following morning for a planned counterprotest of the Unite the Right rally.

“I figured because it was nighttime, that’s why they felt they could do that. Well, there aren’t going to be torches tomorrow,” Romero explained. “I wanted to be there for the community and with the community.”

Willis said he expected the Unite the Right rally to be similar to the July 8, 2017, KKK rally in Court Square Park, which he had attended and which did not end in violence. He had helped organize a peaceful counterprotest on Saturday, August 12, through a People’s Action for Racial Justice committee.

“I wasn’t in a negative mood,” Willis said. “I thought the day still had the potential to be good and peaceful.”

But worse was to come. 

Both witnesses recounted the unforgettable scenes of that day: armed white nationalists gathering in downtown Charlottesville, carrying Confederate flags and shields, wearing T-shirts with swastikas and images of Hitler.

As violence began to erupt near Market Street Park, Romero saw a group of white women and joined hands with them. 

“Honestly, I’m in this line thinking, ‘I’m okay. Why would they be violent to a group of women that are doing nothing? Especially, I’m with white women. I‘m a light-skinned Latina, not that many shades deeper.”

Groups of men still singled her out, she said.

“I got spit on by people who hate me and think I should not be alive and that I threaten their existence,” she said, her voice rising and cracking with emotion. “I’m just trying to go to school, man. I’m just trying to get out of poverty.”

Willis also had a violent encounter with Unite the Right protesters on Saturday, when his group of counterprotesters was assaulted by what he described as a militia brigade of older men.

“They eventually knock everybody down,” Willis said. “I am a nonviolent person, so I fled.”

When news reached the counterprotesters that the rally had been technically canceled by emergency order before it officially began, Romero joined the celebratory group of counterprotesters that would eventually have a fatal encounter with James Fields and his Dodge Charger on Fourth Street.

As Romero’s group rounded the corner from Water Street to Fourth Street, the impact of Fields’ car came without warning, she said.

“The next thing I know is just darkness. You know in the movies when it’s like beeeeep…. Bmm bmmm… I could hear my heart beating,” Romero said. “Like war scenes where they were just hit, and it’s just flashing.”

Dunn showed the jury photos of Romero soon after the impact, appearing dazed, her face and arms covered in blood. She suffered a fractured skull, damage to her teeth, and severe abrasions on her face and body that have left scars. 

“My confidence was destroyed,” Romero said, describing the impact of her injuries, which forced her to withdraw from school for a semester and left her with chronic headaches and vision problems. “I can live with my scars. I have to. But I hate it.”

On cross examination, attorneys for defendants, including Jason Kessler, expressed condolences for Romero and kept their questions brief, asking mostly if she could recall seeing specific defendants that Friday night on UVA Grounds or on Saturday at the rally. 

“I’m not sure,” Romero answered repeatedly.

The two defendants representing themselves in the case, Spencer and Cantwell, were more aggressive in their cross examinations, and Romero was forced to engage directly with two of the men she and the other plaintiffs have accused.  

“So you wanted to seek out the protesters, is what I understand,” Spencer asked. “You wanted to see a spectacle of some kind or get your word in?” 

“In no way did I want to meet protesters,” Romero responded calmly, noting she is a history buff and believed the events unfolding would be historic. “I wanted to see it with my own eyes.”

“When the car incident occurred, did you believe I was responsible or involved,” Spencer asked.

“I can’t say,” said Romero.

Cantwell’s cross examination was more broad. He peppered Romero with questions about her source of information about the torch march, and asked about the names  of other counterprotesters. He also asked her opinions on both the Robert E. Lee monument and Thomas Jefferson owning enslaved people.  

“I think it was terrible that it was put up at a time to intimidate people,” Romero responded to Cantwell’s query about the Lee monument.

“As a university student, we learn all about the history of Charlottesville and UVA. I hate the history that TJ and UVA has,” Romero said, making direct eye contact with Cantwell as she responded. 

Willis had not finished his testimony when court ended on Friday. The trial will resume Monday morning. 

Previous Sines v. Kessler coverage

Pre-trial: Their day in court: Major lawsuit against Unite the Right neo-Nazis heads to trial

Day one, 10/25: Trial kicks off with jury selection

Day two, 10/26: Desperately seeking jury

Day three, 10/27: Jury selection wraps up

Day four, 10/28: Plaintiffs and defendants make their opening arguments

Categories
News

Sines v. Kessler, day four

Each day, we’ll have the latest news from the courtroom in the Sines v. Kessler Unite the Right trial. For coverage from previous days, check the list of links at the bottom of this page.

With a jury finally seated, opening statements began Thursday in Sines v. Kessler, the lawsuit filed by nine locals against organizers of the 2017 Unite the Right rally. 

Plaintiffs’ attorneys laid out their case that the two dozen defendants conspired to commit violence when they came to Charlottesville. The defendants’ attorneys—and two defendants who are representing themselves—contended that the case was an issue of free speech, and no matter how hate-filled their speech is, it’s protected.

Before the lawyers started talking, Judge Norman Moon instructed the jury on conspiracy, which he said is an unlawful partnership among those who have an unlawful objective—even if they don’t know each other. “By its very nature, conspiracy is clandestine and covert,” he said. Plaintiffs may use circumstantial evidence, he added.

It was an emotional day for the plaintiffs, who were in the federal courtroom for the first time since the trial began Monday. 

Plaintiffs’ attorney Karen Dunn played videos from the tiki-torch march through UVA grounds on August 11, when the ralliers chanted “Jews will not replace us.” She also showed footage of James Fields accelerating his Dodge Challenger into a crowd of counterprotesters. Initially the sound wasn’t working, and she called for a pause. “We think it’s important that the jury be able to hear as well as see,” she said. (The press was unable to see anything from the video feed during the plaintiffs’ opening.)

Dunn promised the jury they’d see lots of evidence, and indeed, the plaintiffs’ attorneys have filed a 54-page list of the exhibits they plan to introduce, and have named 31 witnesses.

She showed a message alt-right leader Richard Spencer wrote: “We have entered a world of political violence.” Organizer Jason Kessler wrote to Spencer, “We’re raising an army my liege, for freedom of speech and the cracking of heads if necessary.”

And then there’s the cache of documents Unicorn Riot leaked from Discord’s Charlottesville 2.0 server, with chat rooms where many of the defendants planned Unite the Right. They discussed using shields, pepper spray, and flagpoles as weapons with “plausible deniability,” she said. They called pepper spray “gas.” Dunn warned the jury that “gas the kikes” was something it would hear a lot in this case.

“The defendants never expected their planning to see the light of day—or the inside of a courtroom,” said Dunn. 

Attorney Roberta Kaplan told the jury what the plaintiffs were doing that weekend. UVA students Natalie Romero and Devin Willis, then 20 and 18, joined the 30 or so students August 11 at the Thomas Jefferson statue. They heard the chants, they saw the Rotunda lit up by torch light, and they were terrified, said Kaplan. The students linked arms and were surrounded by hundreds of neo-Nazis, who screamed at them, pepper sprayed them, and kicked them. “Devin thought he was literally going to die,” she said.

On August 12, Romero and Willis headed to Emancipation Park (now Market Street Park), and were sprayed and assaulted once again, said Kaplan. Romero was thrown on the hood of a car. “Tragically that was not the only contact Natalie had with a car that day.”

Many of the plaintiffs joined a celebratory group marching down Water Street. Chelsea Alvarado was beating a large blue drum strapped across her chest. April Muniz wanted to document what was happening. Marcus Martin and his fiancee Marissa Blair marched with their friend Heather Heyer. Thomas Baker had recently moved to Charlottesville and wanted to show support for his new community.

Martin, Romero, Alvarado, and Baker were all hit by Fields’ car. Kaplan showed an image of Alvarado’s drum near Romero’s blood. 

Martin’s shoe came off and was lodged in the grill of the Charger. “These are the shoes,” said Kaplan, holding them up. “Shoes are stronger than human body parts.”

She said, “The evidence you see will be overwhelming. By the end of trial it will be clear the defendants conspired to commit violence.”

Not surprisingly, the defense disagreed. 

Attorney James Kolenich, who represents Kessler, Nathan Damigo, and Identity Evropa, told the jury that antifa, who don’t like Kessler, fascists, and neo-Nazis, were a big part of the case. “No one likes fascists or Nazis,” he acknowledged. “In many cases the defendants aren’t likable people.”

Kessler, he said, “did not know someone would come from out of town with a car.” 

Spencer, who was seen coming into court with a stuffed animal he called his “emotional support animal,” is representing himself. He stressed that he was an invited guest to the Unite the Right rally and had no hand in the planning. Some of the evidence, he conceded, such as a racist rant he made after the rally, would be embarrassing. ”I said things that were shameful and that I might never live down.”

He invoked retired Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy and poet Robert Burns, and was interrupted three times by Moon, who told him to stick to the facts and not get into arguments.

Radical Agenda podcaster Chris “Crying Nazi” Cantwell, the other pro se defendant, urged Republicans to “stop fearing accusations of racism,” mentioned Mein Kampf, and disputed that all men are created equally.

“Tell the jury about your defense,” instructed Moon.

Cantwell told the jury that he’s an entertainer and he’d like to make the plaintiffs laugh. He said he was fired from a broadcast job for using the n-word. “My mouth gets me in trouble.” He is in jail now because he “threatened a Nazi who threatened a woman I wanted to marry.” He informed jurors three times that he is smart. 

With a bit of prescience, Cantwell said he wore a body camera to the Unite the Right rally because he knew if he went to court, “I’d be a profoundly unsympathetic defendant.”

He urged the jury to send a message to “violent communists” and said that “calling someone a racist isn’t an excuse to abuse the legal system and take a month out of your life.” The trial is scheduled to run four weeks.

Attorney Eddie ReBrook, who was taken to the emergency room earlier in the week, told the jury that he wasn’t going to try to humanize the defendants. “You won’t emerge from this trial liking the defendants.”

He represents the National Socialist Movement, its former head Jeff Schoep, and the Nationalist Front, and called his clients some of the most “notorious” in the case. They had nothing to do with the torch march or James Fields, he said, noting that it was better to keep Nazis out in the open. 

Once again, Moon reminded him jurors must make a decision based on the evidence.

ReBrook told jurors, “Don’t let lawyers from out of state come down to violate the First Amendment.” 

That drew a complaint from Kaplan, who is from New York.

ReBrook then quoted Nazi-killer Brad Pitt in Inglorious Basterds.

An exasperated Moon responded, “Mr. ReBrook, I don’t know why you don’t understand. Jurors only look at the evidence.” The ramifications of the trial have nothing to do with their verdict, nor is the court the place to send a message, said the judge.

Attorney Josh Smith, who represents Matthew Heimbach, Matthew Parrott, and the Traditionalist Worker Party, continued the argument that his clients were not involved in a conspiracy and that the case was a free speech issue. He said the defendants had a permit for the Unite the Right rally, while counterprotesters did not. “There’s no right to counterprotest,” he said.

“Counterprotesters do not need a permit to be there,” said Moon. “Other persons had a right to protest. I’ve ruled. It’s over. Move on to another matter.”

The trial continues Friday with the plaintiffs’ first witnesses.

Previous Sines v. Kessler coverage

Pre-trial: Their day in court: Major lawsuit against Unite the Right neo-Nazis heads to trial

Day one, 10/25: Trial kicks off with jury selection

Day two, 10/26: Desperately seeking jury

Day three, 10/27: Jury selection wraps up

Correction, 10/29: An earlier version misspelled Chelsea Alvarado’s name.

Categories
News

Sines v. Kessler, day three

Each day, we’ll have the latest news from the courtroom in the Sines v. Kessler Unite the Right trial. For coverage from previous days, check the list of links at the bottom of this page.

It took two-and-a-half days to find 12 people who said they could be impartial jurors in a lawsuit against many of the country’s most notorious white supremacists. By early afternoon on Wednesday, presiding Judge Norman K. Moon announced a jury had been empaneled in Sines v. Kessler

The civil case brought by nine plaintiffs accuses more than two dozen hate groups and individuals responsible for the Unite the Right rally of conspiring to commit violence during the weekend of August 11 and 12, 2017. The trial is taking place in federal court in downtown Charlottesville, and the nature of the suit makes it unsurprising that nearly every prospective juror questioned during the process known as voir dire was asked about racism.

“Do you have any views if white people can be victims of racism,” Moon asked one prospective juror, a white man, on Wednesday morning.

“It could happen, but I think that, proportionally speaking, the historical and the incidents of racism against minorities is… significantly greater than what may happen to white people,” replied the man, who became one of the 12 final jury members.

Being personally impacted by the Unite the Right rally was another issue for some prospective jurors. 

One, a white man, said he’d been forced to close his business near the Downtown Mall for the weekend of the Unite the Right rally. His business shuttered for good in 2018, and he admitted to being biased against the defendants.

“I didn’t agree with why they felt the statues should stay,” he said, referring to the controversy over Confederate monuments that was the basis of the Unite the Right rally.

The defense asked the court to strike the former downtown business owner from the prospective jury pool.

“He’s basically in the same position as the plaintiffs,” argued Cincinnati-based attorney James Kolenich for the defense. “It’s clear who he blames for that injury. I don’t think he can be fair and impartial.”

Moon eventually agreed, and the man was released from jury service.

Later, the defendants objected to the candidacy of another potential juror, a Black man. In response, the attorneys for the plaintiffs disputed the objection, using a legal argument called a Batson challenge—the plaintiffs’ attorneys claimed the exclusion was based on his race, which would violate his equal rights under the Constitution.

The defense pointed out that there were multiple other Black jurors to whom they hadn’t objected, and noted that all the jurors eliminated by the plaintiffs were white. Attorneys for the plaintiffs countered, saying that argument was insufficient to allow the Black juror’s elimination from the jury pool.

“The Fourth Circuit squarely held that striking one Black juror violates that juror’s equal protection rights. It’s a right that the juror possesses as well, to not have his own equal protection rights violated,” said plaintiffs’ attorney Karen Dunn.

It was arguments by Christopher Cantwell and Richard Spencer, both of whom are representing themselves, that seemed to sway Moon’s opinion. Both Spencer and Cantwell claimed it wasn’t the man’s race they objected to but his demeanor.

“I’m a professional talk radio host. I talk and listen for a living,” said Cantwell. “I detected deception in the man’s voice.”

“I am convinced that he was, in his own mind, nobly lying in order to serve on the jury. That’s my opinion. I might be wrong or I might be right. I have a right to make a discretionary decision,” said Spencer. 

“Mr. Spencer gave his reasons for assessment of juror’s credibility. I do not find that the juror was being dishonest or evasive, but from Mr. Spencer’s and Mr. Cantwell’s viewpoints, I can see how they could arrive at the opinions that they did,” said Moon, denying the plaintiffs’ Batson motion to restore the Black juror to the jury pool.

With the 12-member jury seated by early afternoon, Moon convened court to give counsel for plaintiffs and defense time to prepare for opening statements on Thursday morning.

Previous Sines v. Kessler coverage

Pre-trial: Their day in court: Major lawsuit against Unite the Right neo-Nazis heads to trial

Day one, 10/25: Trial kicks off with jury selection

Day two, 10/26: Desperately seeking jury

Categories
News

Sines v. Kessler, day two

Each day, we’ll have the latest news from the courtroom in the Sines v. Kessler Unite the Right trial. For coverage from previous days, check the list of links at the bottom of this page.

The difficulty of finding a jury without preconceived notions and biases about the Unite the Right rally here in Charlottesville continued into the second day of the Sines v. Kessler trial. The lawsuit, filed on behalf of nine plaintiffs, alleges a conspiracy among the white supremacist and neo-Nazi rally organizers to commit racially motivated violence when they gathered August 11 and 12, 2017.

It was after 6:30pm Tuesday when Judge Norman Moon decided to call it a day with only 10 jurors seated. He was willing to go with a panel of 11, but the defendants called for 12. Two more groups of jurors will be called in on Wednesday.

Other issues arose throughout the day. Attorney Edward ReBrook, working on behalf of defendants National Socialist Movement, the Nationalist Front, and Jeff Schoep, was in the emergency room, with no report on his condition by the end of the day. And the plaintiffs have a motion to reconsider a juror the defendants struck Monday, claiming the defendants’ challenge was made on the basis of race. 

“I’m hoping we can get a full panel by noon,” said Moon, while acknowledging opening arguments may not be able to proceed Wednesday.

Twenty-six potential jurors showed up at the federal courthouse. Some were dismissed for work concerns if seated for a four-week trial. Others said they had already formed opinions about both the defendants and the plaintiffs.

One woman identified the two parties in the case as “Black Lives Matter and antifa.” She also had a problem with the rights of “radical communists and atheists” to protest. Moon dismissed her.

Another said her son’s after-school teacher was “Mr. Dre,” whom the judge concluded was DeAndre Harris. Harris was severely beaten in the Market Street Garage. She began to cry on the stand, and Moon said he was striking her for cause as well.

“I never liked protests. I felt like everyone should stay home,” said a third woman, who was struck for cause. Asked whether she could set aside her preconceived notions about protesters, she ballparked her odds at 75 percent.

One potential male juror said, “I am biased against the defendants. I believe they’re evil and their organizations are evil. I would find that difficult to set aside.” 

“Crying Nazi” Christopher Cantwell and alt-right leader Richard Spencer, who are both representing themselves, wanted to question the man further after Moon was ready to dismiss him. That led to defense attorney James Kolenich lamenting pro se litigants, and said they could be prejudicial to his clients. Kolenich represents Jason Kessler, Nathan Damigo, and Identity Evropa.

A civics teacher who called the defendants “heinous” said he thought he could be fair. That was too big a leap for Moon, who struck for cause again.

One man called the left “unhinged” and said he believed the plaintiffs “probably” were armed. Another said, “I have already made up my mind. I live in this town. I know people who were assaulted. That poor girl died. I’ve already made up my mind.” Both were excused with cause.

At the end of the day, the court had seated three jurors: two men and a woman. Jury selection will continue into Wednesday.

Previous Sines v. Kessler coverage

Pre-trial: Their day in court: Major lawsuit against Unite the Right neo-Nazis heads to trial

Day one: Trial kicks off with jury selection

Categories
Arts Culture

Pick: Witch’s Ball

Magic gathering: Halloweekend fun awaits at the Witch’s Ball, a late-night soirée full of occult oddities and chilling curiosities. Ships in the Night celebrates a new album, Latent Powers, along with performances by Synthetic Division and Solemn Shapes. DJ Cadybug provides nonstop dance tracks, accompanied by witchcrafted cocktails and unearthly delicacies from a variety of food trucks. A tarot reader is on hand for those who dare to discover what fate has in store.

Saturday 10/30. $20-26.66, 9pm. IX Art Park, 522 Second St. SE., ixartpark.org. 

Categories
Arts Culture

Pick: Poe for Your Problems

Poe knows: Darkly funny with a dash of the macabre, Catherine Baab-Muguira’s debut book, Poe for Your Problems, depicts Edgar Allan Poe as a self-help guru. Baab-Muguira walks readers through Poe’s life, in tandem with self-reflection that allows you to say “nevermore” to your problems, and discover the difference between positive and poe-sitive thinking.

Saturday 10/30. Free, 7pm. New Dominion Bookshop, 404 E. Main St., Downtown Mall. ndbookshop.com

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Arts Culture

Queer country

If there was one guiding light throughout director Bo McGuire’s near-zero-budget filming of Socks on Fire, his tale of family division over his beloved Nanny’s house, it would be Dolly Parton know-how.

From the country icon, McGuire learned to “work with what you have.” He was at NYU, and had the equipment to make a film, but no funding. Meanwhile, his Aunt Sharon had kicked his drag-queen Uncle John out of his grandmother’s house in his hometown of Hokes Bluff, Alabama.

“This drama was going down in my family, who are characters in their own right,” he says. He also knew the local landscapes, which “look beautiful on film.” He decided to take a camera and couple talented friends down to Alabama to “see what happens.”

Until the day of filming, McGuire hadn’t decided if he was going to appear on screen. “I went to my closet and pulled out the brightest colors I could find—and I made sure I had accessories.” That, he says, is Dolly Parton know-how: making do with what you have.

Home videos interspersed throughout the film are evidence of the close-knit family McGuire grew up in. “It was emotional for me,” he says. “I felt very possessive and responsible for my grandmother’s legacy, while watching my family implode.”

The Dolly Parton influence can be seen throughout Socks on Fire. Photo: VAFF

He stresses that Socks on Fire, which refers to the airing of one’s dirty laundry—or in this case, the torching of it—is his own version of the event. “This is how I feel about it,” says McGuire.

His telling has poetry—and pyrotechnics. Local drag queens reenact parts of the family drama. And family members and friends appear on camera, turning the story into an homage to the important women in McGuire’s life.

“I was trying to capture what was going on and where I come from, somehow, in some mystical way.”

His mother didn’t understand why people would want to watch “our family being our family,” he says. “Then you have my Uncle John, who has been waiting for this moment. He loves the camera.”

Growing up in eastern Alabama, McGuire had no model for going into film. Instead, he studied creative writing and got an MFA in poetry. “I didn’t want to be an academic,” he says—he wanted to make music videos. At NYU, he studied with Spike Lee, who, it turns out, is a big Alabama football fan.

“He was very encouraging,” says McGuire. “I think he wants to see young filmmakers be rebellious.”

Making a movie in his hometown offered some production benefits in housing, locations, and feeding his crew. “People in Gadsden, Alabama, were excited about shooting a film, and they’re willing to let you do things for free,” notes McGuire.

Ultimately, he wants people to see a new kind of South. “Narratives of the South are often spun by people not from here,” he says. “The South gets scapegoated for a lot of the country’s problems.” 

McGuire says there’s a lot to love. “The largest percentage of LGBTQIA people exist in the Southeast. I just wanted to hold a mirror up to the South. You are a place that believes in original storytelling, where we’re queer, weird, out there, and different.”

A story about the disputed settling of an estate could have been bitter, but McGuire says he took care not to bully his aunt, who was his favorite growing up. “I would like people to see the love,” he says.

The Parton influence factored again when McGuire cooked breakfast for his crew and played generous host so that people wanted to collaborate and were excited about what he was doing.

“Being nice is Dolly Parton know-how,” explains McGuire. “You can get away with a lot more if you’re kind and generous.”

Socks on Fire

October 28

Violet Crown Cinema

Categories
Arts Culture

Jeremy O. Harris comes home

Playwright Jeremy O. Harris made history this year when his provocative Slave Play garnered the most Tony nominations ever for a single work (12, including Best Play). He began writing Slave Play while attending the Yale School of Drama, where he earned an MFA in playwriting, but his inspiration was intrinsic, stemming from his experiences growing up in Martinsville, Virginia. 

Unpacking the harsh realities of sexual and racial violence and trauma, Slave Play stirred controversy with its brash and graphic nature. At times generating a sense of discomfort for the audience, the work forces theatergoers to face ugly truths, reckon with the past, acknowledge its impact on the present, and assess their own place within the trajectory. The same is true for Harris’ film, Zola, the adaptation of Aziah “Zola” Wells’ viral Twitter chronicle that took the internet by storm in 2015, resulting in the high-profile Rolling Stone magazine feature, “Zola Tells All: The Real Story Behind the Greatest Stripper Saga Ever Tweeted.” For his foray into film, Harris teamed up with writer/director Janicza Bravo to co-write an honest, raw look at sex work in America while maintaining the singularity and humor of Wells’ voice. In conversation with C-VILLE Weekly, Harris reflects on his rise to success, and what it means to him to return to Virginia.

C-VILLE: You went to high school in Martinsville, VA. Can you talk about how your experience growing up in the South, particularly in Virginia, impacts your current work? 

JH: It’s impacted every facet. The tradition of Southern storytelling is very rich. The thing that’s special about the South is its sort of wild, complex history with both the slave trade—Virginia being the hub of the domestic slave trade in America once the Transatlantic slave trade was ended—and also the fact that Virginia specifically was sort of like the hub between the North and the South…but the Confederacy capital is in Richmond, right? 

There’s a lot of complexities that come from this area that teaches one, without even knowing it, the value of what you want, and how you tell your story, and how you know your history. It takes a lot of nuance to explain to someone, as a Black person, that one of your best friends was the owner of the largest plantation in southwestern Virginia. What does that mean that we played there together? Just the fact that we played doesn’t absolve that person of anything. 

These are the kind of questions that are at the core of Faulkner stories, right? These are at the core of so many of the bedrocks of American literature and literary traditions. Those things have very much been like a fuel to the fire of the stories I’ve told. 

For a lot of people in the North, this year was one of the first times they’ve actually reckoned with race—even though Trayvon Martin happened [almost 10] years ago. There have been a litany of other things that have happened in our lifetime, for even someone as young as I am, that they could have pointed to as a moment of racial reckoning. But it literally took George Floyd and a pandemic for them to recognize it in the North.

And for people in the South, that sort of delayed recognition…I’ve always felt like racism, the questions around white supremacy, questions about privilege, even if the language wasn’t there, the ideas were very much there because they were ingrained in the architecture of where we were.

We’ve been dealing with our own racial reckoning here in Virginia. In Charlottesville, everything came to the forefront in the wake of the white supremacist rally in 2017—and most recently in Richmond with the removal of the Robert E. Lee statue on Monument Avenue. What does it mean to you to screen one of your works here, given the sociopolitical context?

I think it’s exciting; it’s a sort of a homecoming. I feel like myself, and a lot of people from Virginia, specifically, who feel othered—whether it’s because they’re Black, whether it’s because they’re gay, whether it’s because they’re a woman with too much ambition—they end up going to some faraway city and not coming back, right? And being like, this is a safer place for me to exist and explore and become the human being that I want to be. 

I’ve done that and it’s been phenomenal for me, but it’s been tinged with some sadness because I would prefer to be able to grow with people that I grew up with; I would have preferred to have shared the lessons I was learning with everyone around me, and not feel as though I had abandoned my community and taken away a resource that you know, Virginia helped foster. 

I was watered and planted in Virginia, and then I was uprooted, and went somewhere else and became a grand, surprisingly large flower, right, that beared fruit. And that fruit is being beared and shared with people in New York and people in L.A. So it’s really exciting to have this step of me being brought back and welcomed back in some small way to a community I left because I didn’t know if I would ever feel welcome there. 

Photo: VAFF

Do you feel a responsibility to take the lessons you’ve learned and the success you’ve achieved and channel it back into your community in some way? 

I think that’s a complicated thing. There are moments where I feel like I owe everything to everyone down there and then moments where I’m like “I owe them nothing.” Oh, do I owe the cousin that called me the F-word, do I owe the students that called me the F-word anything? No. 

There’s that question of, is it up to the person who’s been historically disenfranchised or othered to do the work? 

That’s what gives me pause about coming back. But on the flip side, I think of the fact that there are people there who opened their homes to me, who shared things with me, and taught me things that I would have never known. And there’s also some other little boy or other little girl who feels a lot like I felt there, who probably feels alone. 

I also do think that it’s very easy to abandon communities that you think haven’t evolved fast enough without trying to help them evolve. And again, that’s a lot of labor. But a part of me is like, it’s easier to evolve when you see it right in front of you; it’s harder when you can’t see it at all.

Maybe I do owe it to my community to be this out, proud, Black, successful gay man in Virginia, who can be a model for people who maybe have never even seen a gay person that’s out. I mean, they’ve definitely seen a gay person, they just maybe haven’t seen one who feels comfortable telling the world who they are. And me existing there might be something that could change that, right? Me existing there as someone who is very excited and proud to have co-written a movie directed by a Black woman…might make people have a different relationship to gender, and who gets what jobs in that area, because now they might not feel as though there’s some wild imposition of masculinity the minute that a woman is involved in any sort of project that a man is involved in. 

That brings me to Zola, which you co-wrote with director Janicza Bravo. What first attracted you to this project? 

I was actively on Twitter as it was happening. [A’Ziah “Zola” King] had written maybe like 15 of the 145 tweets and I was at tweet 15 thinking, “This is the funniest line ever—who is this?” And I think that I was captivated immediately then by the ferocity of her voice and the newness of her voice in the sense that her voice felt similar to the ways in which I process the world.

Can you talk about your writing approach to the film? It’s a unique undertaking in that you’re adapting tweets. Many lines in the movie were lifted directly from Zola’s tweets—but how did you maintain her voice? 

Isn’t it so funny [the opening line of the film]: “Y’all wanna hear a story about why me and this bitch here fell out?” Isn’t it such a Southern turn of phrase? That line just feels like home to me.

And it’s immediately captivating. It feels like sitting around the table talking to your friends. 

Exactly. It does feel exhilarating. The thing that made it very easy for me was that she told the story with such conviction, with such an innate and natural understanding of the rhythm of the storytelling that I didn’t have to do anything. It was basically like plug and play. So every beat that’s in the movie is from her actual Twitter thread, right. And so we just went through it and wrote them all down as the outline. And we filled in the beats in between the tweets. 

Anything that could have happened between a pair of tweets—like there’s a tweet where they got in the car, and the next tweet, they’re in Florida—we filled out what happened on the ride to Florida, then. And that became a really important process. And then outside of that, we went through her actual history—some of the things she had told [David Kushner], the man who wrote the [Rolling Stone] article about her and used those things to add further flavors to the story. 

This movie is categorized as a comedy, but it takes on a very serious subject. And I felt like it challenged me. There were certain scenes that I thought were funny, and there were other scenes that made me uncomfortable. Then there were scenes that I appreciated, but I felt like I wasn’t the intended audience. As a viewer, I felt very self-aware and my interpretation was that that was intentional. Was it? 

I believe very strongly that an audience who is aware of itself, aware of its presence, are able to take on bigger ideas, even inside of a comedy, than they would if they aren’t aware of themselves. You do enough to remind people that what they’re watching is a movie that has an idea and the ideas are X, Y, and Z, so that they’ll notice things like the Confederate flag or the fact that a Black woman who doesn’t look anything like Whoopi Goldberg is being called Whoopi Goldberg. And even if they don’t understand what that means in the moment, they’ll think about it for longer because the movie has done a lot to destabilize the relationship to what they’re seeing.

Zola

October 31

Culbreth Theater

Categories
Arts Culture

Pick: A Most Beautiful Thing

Oar stories: During the ’90s on Chicago’s West Side, Arshay Cooper became captain of the first all-Black high school rowing team, an experience he claims saved his life. A Most Beautiful Thing, the humorous and inspiring documentary based on Cooper’s award-winning memoir of the same name, chronicles the team’s journey and a reunion 20 years later. Cooper will be joined by Olympian Jim Dietz, UVA’s rowing director Frank Biller, and local crew coach Craig Redinger for a discussion before a screening of the film.

Wednesday 10/27. Free, 6:30pm. Western Albemarle High School, 5941 Rockfish Gap Tpke., Crozet. 823-8700.

Categories
Arts Culture

Developing stories

Since the 1940s, documentary photographer and filmmaker Gordon Parks has remained relevant as both a visual chronicler of injustice and an example to aspiring artists everywhere. “He could turn an ordinary life into something extraordinary,” says John Maggio, the director of A Choice of Weapons: Inspired by Gordon Parks, which takes its name from Parks’ memoir.

Among Parks’ famous works is his 1967-68 Life magazine photo documentation of the Fontenelle family’s struggles in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn. “Not to diminish the importance of covering the Fontenelle family in a run-down tenement, but he also got the beauty of the composition,” Maggio says. 

“Parks is the perfect amalgam of both artist and journalist,” says Maggio, showing a photograph of a woman sitting with some of her children, pleading silently with a poverty bureau worker. “That makes him great. Look at the mother’s eyes—so grave.”

Born into poverty himself, Parks saw power in photography and taught himself how to operate a camera. He worked his way onto the masthead of Life magazine, and was the first African American to shoot for Vogue, as well as the first Black director of a major Hollywood studio movie, Shaft. He also was a noted writer and composed music for films.

In addition to discussing Parks, Maggio’s documentary showcases the trajectories of three newer artists who wield cameras to tell stories. “I didn’t want to keep Gordon encased in amber. I wanted to see his legacy in play today,” says Maggio.

He calls Baltimore’s Devon Allen the nearest extension of Parks. Finding a camera pulled Allen away from a perilous place to the cover of Time magazine. Other artists influenced by Parks and featured in the film are LaToya Ruby Frazier and Jamel Shabazz, who create affirmation in their work, Maggio says.

As a young man hanging around his painter-sculptor father’s studio, Maggio “absconded with a Time-Life photo compendium” that captivated him as he studied Parks and the photos that elicited strong emotions. Today, he says he admires Parks’ bright and colorful series shot in the South. Full of life and joy, the photos defy the harsher stereotypes of the region.

Maggio, who was once a journalist, won an Emmy for “The Untold Story of the 2008 Financial Crisis.” He says now is a golden age for documentaries because of the resources that streaming platforms provide for stories that tell us about our society and world.

Maggio cites the Unite the Right rally as an inspiration for his work on A Choice of Weapons. “There was an eerie intimacy to the tiki-torch march, and it felt like something out of a Nazi propaganda film. It was chilling,” he says, before expressing gratitude for the filmmakers and journalists on the scene at the time. The two days of violence in Charlottesville were part of a pattern that includes the deaths of Sandra Blanton, George Floyd, and others. “The sad part of this is that it’s a conversation we continue to have,” he says, adding that there is still a need for potent imagery, as young artists evolve. “It is their story to tell, the important narrative work that can effect change.”

A Choice of Weapons: Inspired by Gordon Parks

October 28

Culbreth Theatre