After massacre, Virginia Tech 'Hokies' find healing

"Today we are all Hokies. We are Virginia Tech." The words of Virginia Tech faculty member and poet Nikki Giovanni rang through Cassell Coliseum as she spoke at the Convocation on April 17, 2007.

I transferred to Virginia Tech as a junior in 1968, just a couple of years after the university started to actively integrate. Negro students, as we were called then, represented 1 percent of the enrollment. Even with all of the struggles of a campus adjusting to racial integration, I rapidly became a Hokie; becoming involved in the student life at Tech and opening a number of doors as the "first" black to achieve several significant benchmarks. This was MY Virginia Tech.

And it was MY Virginia Tech on April 16, 2007.

That day was to become the worst shooting massacre in modern American history. As the week unfolded, I hardly slept. I became glued to the television, the newspaper, and the computer. I would awake in the middle of the night to turn on CNN. This was very personal. I had lived in the dormitory where the shooting occurred. The first person murdered was an African-American resident assistant (RA). I had been the first black RA. The pain was so deep that I could not find an answer as to why I hurt that much. This was MY Virginia Tech.

Dozens of alums reached out to each other on the listserv, Bay Area Hokies. We became a cyber-space support group. One evening I wrote and posted a long piece titled the "Loss of Innocence," describing how this tragic event had crushed the memories that I had of a time when world was safe and people were basically good even during times of struggle. Once I wrote this piece, I began my process of healing.

At Sonoma State there was a memorial service. Members of the campus community reached out to me and to other Tech alums with e-mails and phone calls.

Over 400 Bay Area alums, family and friends gathered in Mountain View for a memorial. We reached out to each other for support, we hugged strangers who were not really strangers because we're members of the Tech family.

We shared stories of our times in Blacksburg, the university's Virginia hometown. Almost all of us were wearing some piece of Hokie clothing. We were no longer alone in our pain. Some people searched me out to express how my post had reflected their feelings and helped them start the healing process.

I connected with a woman who remembered me from my college days. The President of the chapter set a goal to raise $100,000 for the Memorial Fund, which was achieved in less than ten days. Across generations, we were part of the Hokie Nation coming together to grieve.

In the year that has followed, I have reconnected with several of my fraternity brothers and other friends and have called my former dean. This spring I got an e-mail from a Hokie who I had not been in contact with for 35 years. A group of us are planning to get together on campus this fall.

The Hokie Nation is now stronger. As I watch my campus heal, love, and move forward, I stand even prouder as a Hokie. This Wednesday -- April 16 -- I will light candles and say prayers for all 33 people who died. I will listen to Nikki's speech and cry.

On that day last year, we all became Hokies. Many of us are proud Hokies for life. "We are Virginia Tech."

Chuck Rhodes, Virginia Tech Class

of 1970, is assistant vice president for student affairs at Sonoma State.