Hate in a Hallmark Town, Part 4: 'We Were Not Afraid to Stand Up to Hate'
Franklin, Tennessee, resident Peggy Kingsbury never expected that her civic involvement would lead to threats from neo-Nazis. Here is what she learned.
This post is part of a continuing series that explains how I began this unexpected journey into the world of hate. One of the people I met early in that journey was Peggy Kingsbury. This is her story. — Phil Williams
I was sitting in my office in Franklin, Tennessee, in early October 2023, when the phone rang. The caller said he was from something called “Nashville Open Source Intelligence.” I had never heard of it, but he quickly got my attention.
The mysterious caller said his group monitors Telegram—a messaging app popular among the far right—for threats against citizens, and I was now the target of a threat that had just been posted online.
Chillingly, not only was my photo posted, but so was my home address.
“Now looky here,” the post began. “ Peggy’s rich White ass hates ‘your’ poor White ass for some strange reason. She makes a living spewing off from her rich mouth about you having too much White privilege. Meanwhile you are struggling to put food on the table to just merely Exist in this dystopian nightmare these brainwashed maniacs like her have created for you.”
It concluded, “I think it’s about time that her and her kind were silenced.”
This would be the first threat I received but, sadly, not the last.
The post came from Nashville’s notorious Lewis Country Store. It was the home of the Tennessee Active Club, a white nationalist neo-Nazi network in Tennessee that utilizes combat sports to recruit members and train for violence.
Brad Lewis, a self-described “actual literal Nazi,” was their leader.
How did I become the target of neo-Nazis? How did hate march its way onto my suburban street and to my front door?
How hate came to Main Street
In mid-March of 2023, I had read in the local paper that one of our aldermen, Gabrielle Hanson, was opposing the Williamson County Remembrance Project. The project would erect several markers in town to chronicle the history of the mostly African American lynching victims in Franklin, Tennessee. Franklin is a beautiful small city sitting in and around a major Civil War battlefield. Citizens in Franklin treasure its history and understand how telling the full story is a way to recognize all parts of its past. One alderman noted, “The reality is this community has a strong collaborative approach to telling our history.”
Alderman Hanson strongly disagreed. She said these “racial terror placards” would give victim status to those who experienced a civil rights violation and lead to reparations. These remarks caused me to pay more attention to our Board of Mayor and Aldermen and to listen more closely to Alderman Hanson, who would later announce her candidacy for Mayor of Franklin.
I did not know that these were the first steps hate would take on its way down our Main Street.
Just a week later in March 2023, hate took a few more steps. Hanson was a guest on a podcast and began by discussing her stand against Franklin’s Pride Festival. Her comments in public meetings and during this podcast struck me as bigoted and divisive. Then, she began talking about the murders at Nashville’s Covenant School, which had happened a few days prior. She claimed to have inside knowledge and said the shootings were the result of a “love triangle” and that she had predicted the shootings.
Parents and family members of the victims were understandably outraged. It was at this point that I began attending open Alderman meetings and paying close attention to how those we had elected were serving our community. Many citizens, including myself, wrote our elected officials and voiced our concern over Hanson’s comments and called for an ethics investigation. That investigation was dismissed because Hanson’s words did not meet the very narrow definitions in the city’s ethics policies.
A month later Hanson ramped up her hateful rhetoric, and hate continued its march down our Main Street. Hanson did not want a Juneteenth Festival in town and wrote to a major sponsor of the festival demanding they withdraw their donation. She called the Franklin Justice and Equity Coalition, sponsors of the event, radical. Members of this organization were my friends, and her words angered me. In this case, she had represented herself as an Alderman for the City of Franklin—my city—and I believed she had committed an ethics violation.
I, along with two others, filed a formal complaint. Hanson’s response? She filed official paperwork to run for mayor.
As a citizen who filed a formal ethics complaint, I knew my name would be public. I also knew I would be called to speak during various hearings. I was interviewed by several newspapers and a local television station.
I felt strongly enough about standing up against Hanson’s bigoted rhetoric that I was willing to speak boldly.
Once I became an official complainant in the ethics investigation, I sometimes felt an occasional cold breeze as I made my way down the grocery store isle or as I attended community functions. Folks in Franklin like our town to be portrayed as a “Hallmark” town, and negative publicity does not sit well with many. News stations, both local and national, had picked up on the story and some saw the complainants as the reason for negative publicity.
Standing up to hate was beginning to cost me social connections and a sense of ease.
By September, Phil Williams had picked up on the Hanson story. He began a months-long investigative series uncovering Hanson’s complicated past. Every few days, Hanson and her campaign would provide new material for Phil including doctored social media posts, lies to police, and a general trail of hypocrisy and deceit.
In early October, now-mayoral candidate Hanson was part of a candidate forum held at the Franklin City Hall. I attended. So did members of the Tennessee Active Club. Among the group was the “literal Nazi” Brad Lewis. They said they were there to provide security for their friend, Gabrielle Hanson.
I was approached by a citizen during this forum who told me to “stop giving our town a bad name and leave if you don’t like it here.” Phil Williams was also there and confronted the neo-Nazis. The story made national news.
The next day I received that first threat.
Then a second threat
A few days later, I arrived home to find a flyer hanging on my front door handle. Candidate Hanson was having a meet and greet in my neighborhood, and members of my household were invited My husband and I decided to go, and I decided to ask Hanson directly what she thought of her white supremacist Nazi friends threatening me. She denied any knowledge of the threats. She asked for proof, so I raised my phone to show her a screenshot of the threat.
We arrived home and, within an hour, I was notified of another threat from the same group as before. This threat, also posted on Telegram, included a photo of my screenshot which I showed only to Hanson and her campaign worker.
“Well… well… well… One of our critics must be scared,” it read, concluding: “This ain’t your revolution no more. We’re taking over from here. Hail Victory.” It was followed by the twin lightning bolts of Adolf Hitler’s Nazi SS.
For me, this was proof that candidate Hanson’s campaign was directly tied to the neo-Nazi Tennessee Active Club. Whether it was through the mayoral hopeful herself or a volunteer with the campaign, we did not know. My husband and I contacted Phil, and we agreed to appear on the evening news.
We were not afraid to stand up to hate.
It had shown up not only on Main Street but right at our front door.
Lessons learned
The good news is that Hanson handily lost her bid for mayor. However, the white supremacists celebrated—because over 3300 people voted for their candidate who they apparently believed hates all the same people they hate. A local political action committee supported Hanson to the very end. The local Republican party refused to denounce Hanson.
I wish I could say we kicked hate all the way down Main Street and right out of town. The truth is we only quietened it for a while.
Phil Williams’ reporting shined a light on the racism and bigotry that came out in full force during the fall of 2023. Now, we are in another local election season. Several of the candidates are people who stood by Hanson to the very end.
I never thought I’d be the target of dangerous, armed, hate-filled men who wear Nazi tattoos with pride. To be honest, I never thought standing up to such hate would be necessary. But that is what it was and is for me—necessary.
The hate was always here, though.
It was somewhere below the surface waiting for the right time to reveal itself through men and women who felt emboldened to take off their hoods. I fear they are more emboldened than ever in today’s climate. Each time we have a chance to stand face to face with intolerance and prejudice we must hold the line. I have faith in what is right, and I believe love wins.
The only thing standing up to hate cost me is a few social invites and some friendships I had misread. What a small price to pay.
Peggy Kingsbury is a resident of Franklin, Tennessee, a small business owner, and a believer in democracy.
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