Editor’s note: In a May 14 Fact Checker column, Glenn Kessler reported that a search of genealogical records had found no evidence that the Rev. Robert W. Lee IV, author of this column, is descended from the family of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee. In response to a subsequent inquiry from Post Opinions, Lee stood by his claim to be a descendant but was unable to provide any supporting evidence. He said documents that would support his claim are in the possession of another family member and that he no longer has access to them.

Robert W. Lee IV is the pastor of Unifour Church and author of the book “A Sin by Any Other Name: Reckoning With Racism and the Heritage of the South.”

In the small town where I live and grew up, the Lost Cause of the Confederacy didn’t need a special name — it was the education we all received. We were taught that during the Civil War, the Confederate States of America had just motive. Perhaps you’ve heard the mantra: “The Civil War was fought for states’ rights.” It was enshrined in monuments across the country after the war ended.

The catch is that there’s more to that sentence, something we southerners are never taught: The Civil War was fought for states’ rights to enslave African people in the United States of America.

Many of us were never taught the rest of the sentence and are forced to discover it for ourselves, but my reality is unique amid the landscape of southern identity. My name is Robert W. Lee: I’m a Christian pastor, a husband, a friend, a son, a brother. But you undoubtedly realize that I bear the name of the icon of the Southern understanding of the world, and I also bear his heritage.

As a descendant of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee’s family, I have borne the weight and responsibility of that lineage. Even though my parents never pushed it or subscribed to all that it could entail, my own upbringing oozed with Southern pride. I had a black nanny — even in the 1990s — and a Confederate flag that hung in my bedroom until middle school. I believed that in commanding the Army of Northern Virginia, Lee was a Christian man with the best of intentions.

But today I am proud to be part of a new era for the South and the country. And on Thursday, I was present with Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam (D) and Lt. Gov. Justin Fairfax (D) as they announced the intent of the commonwealth to remove the iconic statue of Lee on Richmond’s Monument Avenue.

Nsé Ufot of the New Georgia Project urges protesters to connect what they are demanding in the streets with what they are choosing at the polls June 9. (Joy Yi, Joel Adrian, Kate Woodsome/The Washington Post)

I am fully aware that the broken, racist system we have built on the Lost Cause is far larger than a single statue, but the statue of my ancestor has stood for years in Richmond as an idol of this white supremacist mind-set. The statue is a hollow reminder of a painful ideology and acts of oppression against black people. Taking it down will provide new opportunities for conversations, relationships and policy change.

Many of my fellow Southerners are afraid that if we remove Confederate monuments, we will forget the legacy of Lee and our Southern heritage. If we are honest with ourselves, many of those fears are anxiety about a shifting way of life, a loss of a certain understanding.

Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam (D) announced on June 4 plans to remove a statue commemorating Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee. (VPM/YouTube)

Others of us have worked for generations to escape the scorn my family — and the Lost Cause mythology — has brought upon the nation. And for many of us, removing the statue of Lee was a culmination of years of work. For me, this symbolic gesture stands at the start of a new way of life in the South, a new cause that could replace the Lost Cause mentality if we get this right.

The new cause of this country is about justice, equality, peace and concord. We can and must be different. Now is the time to make this new cause the hope of this upcoming generation of activists. We can give the gift of Southern hospitality and community instead of passing on a pseudo-historical and oppressive understanding of the world.

To rest when symbols of oppression fall is to have only done a portion of the work. I have often lain awake at night wondering if I did the right thing in criticizing my uncle, or in supporting the statue’s removal, or in trying to move past the Lost Cause. I doubted — as all white people do — that this was my battle to fight. But even if that doubt was momentary, it shows that I have more work to do. We must begin anew each morning to redeem the world and atone for the past.

The work continues, and the new cause begins.

Read more: