I admit to being more excited than usual overhearing them speak German at the mountain that afternoon. About a week before Germany would win the World Cup, on July 5th, Ralf and Christian, both in their twenties, were visiting friends in Atlanta that they’d met before graduating with engineering degrees from Georgia Tech two years ago. Ralf now works in the automotive industry in Munich, while Christian continues his studies in mechanical engineering in Stuttgart.
“Bist du Deutsch?” I asked eagerly (and informally) I could hear my high school German teacher, Herr H, correctimg me, “Sind Sie Deutsch!”.
“Ja,” they answered with pleasant surprise.
“Are you a runner?” I asked Christian, very impressed with myself for translating “Laufteam” on his shirt, and then boasted how I’d studied German for “fünf Jahren, aber ich habe viele Worten vergessen!” I also serenaded them with my best rendition of the German alphabet before telling them about I Am The Mountain. I even got them to jump: springen! Now I could be proud to have gotten two stereotypically reserved Germans to jump, they joked.
But I wasn’t necessarily as excited to just be poking fun at the stereotype of reserved Germans (with their permission!) or simply to be practicing my very rusty German on top of Stone Mountain. No, it ran much deeper than that. There I was, a woman of Mexican, Irish, and English descent from a town infamous for its ties with the Klan talking with two German citizens about the beautiful significance of the mountain being so multicultural now.
 
Sadly, the day after Germany won the world cup I was disgusted to learn that the Klan had been leaving recruitment flyers in Atlanta's Candler Park and Cabbagetown neighborhoods. While I wasn’t any more accountable for the Klan’s hateful actions and beliefs simply because of where I was born than were these two Germans for atrocities committed by the Nazi’s, but, I wondered if people ever leaned in and whispered to them in grave and haunted tones about the Nazis the way people often did to me about the Klan when they found out I was from Stone Mountain? I’ve always been especially ashamed of this ugly chapter in Stone Mountain’s race-haunted history. But I will continue to take heart in every sign of healing on top of the mountain and throughout the city. Let’s all be proud of where we come from, but not at the expense of other people.