Five years after Emanuel AME: A letter to my big sister
The author, a Charlotte City Council member, is the brother of Cynthia Graham Hurd, who was killed on June 17, 2015 at Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.
Dear Cynthia,
It’s been five years since you were taken from me — and the world — so suddenly and violently.
I had planned a big celebration of your life this month to commemorate the fifth anniversary of your death and eight others at Emanual AME in Charleston. I’ve poured over the countless articles, videos, and photos I have of you. There are so many memories: you as an innocent little girl; your graduations from high school and college; the many accolades for your professional and community work in Charleston, and all of our family get-togethers.
Much has happened since you left us. There’s a library named after you. You loved reading and sharing your love of books with others, so I know that would make you happy. There are other honors — college scholarships that bear your name, the posthumous Phoenix Award from the Congressional Black Caucus. I also started a foundation in your name: the Cynthia Graham Hurd Foundation for Reading & Civic Engagement. Your legacy continues to grow.
However, some things haven’t changed. The hate that caused your death — a hate with deep roots in our country’s history — has not faded. Just this year, Ahmaud Arbery was jogging on a Sunday afternoon in Georgia when a white man and his son thought he looked suspicious. They armed themselves and took the law into their own hands. It cost him his life. A few weeks ago, George Floyd was murdered by a Minneapolis police officer who pressed his knee into Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes. He died, too.
That particular incident was the collective breaking point, Cynthia. So many years of black women and men dying at the hands of white people, recorded on video — yet rarely being held accountable. Black people took to Minneapolis streets in protest — joined by people of all races protesting in major cities across America. The rage is so raw that we watched it spill over and become riots.
After your murder, our family met President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama. We told them all about you. They were warm and compassionate, and the president went on to give you a big shout-out during his speech at Pastor Clementa Pinckney’s funeral. He sang “Amazing Grace.” He said that’s what you had found.
However, the first black President was too much for our nation to stomach. The next turn we had, the American people elected the most openly racist and incompetent president in modern American history. Among the many examples of his “leadership”: calling racist marchers in Charlottesville, Virginia “very fine people,” labeling Haiti and countries in Africa as “shithole countries,” and attacking black NFL players who knelt to protest injustice.
I see enough racism at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.; I don’t want to see it on the corner of Trade and Tryon streets in Charlotte. That’s why I ran for Charlotte City Council — to affect change. To do the work. I don’t always have all the answers, but one thing is for sure: I refuse to remain silent. It’s something I learned from you, Cynthia.
My favorite Gospel song asks, “When the world is on your shoulders, what do you do? When your back is up against the world, what do you do?” The answer: “Keep the faith.”
That answer isn’t just for me — it’s for all of us. Those marching and protesting. Those calling for change. Those having tough conversations and taking the time to pause, listen, and learn. Those moving forward, bit by bit, every day.
Cynthia, you were a woman of great faith. My promise to you is that we’ll keep the faith and do the work. It’s the way we continue your great legacy.
Until I see you again,
Your little brother, Malcolm
This story was originally published June 17, 2020 at 8:07 AM.