I’m not a native of Charleston, but I call it home. I didn’t hear the news until this morning. Disbelief was my first feeling. I’m still in shock, following every bit of news. He’s been caught now. That’s good. At least that part of it won’t be delayed.

I will start to feel the pain soon enough. Others, closer to the scene, and the people who are now gone, and the church with the history of strength and faith, have already been feeling the pain, and will feel the pain much more deeply, and it will be much more prolonged than mine.

My pain is for the senseless act that took away people from families that I do not know. But I already know that they were good and they were loved. My pain is for the family of the person who did this too. My pain is for the city, the city that is a unique, special place that doesn’t deserve to have this become part of its history.

I feel fear for the story that people will try to tell about Charleston. We are the South and all that comes with that. We have history, not all of it good. We don’t hide it. We find strength in that I think. We are a lazy, cozy, easy place. We can’t be molded into a stereotyped race narrative for political points. With certain well known individuals on their way here, I fear they will create problems, and draw lines in the sand that will divide.

The problem that created this tragedy is not because something is wrong in Charleston. It rests solely with the individual who did this. I pray that we can focus on that alone, and come together. Come together instead of come apart.