In the heart of central North Carolina, a newly established private park has become the epicenter of a heated debate over history, memory, and the legacy of the Confederacy. Valor Memorial, a 1.5-acre stretch of manicured grass in the small town of Denton, is now home to three nearly identical Confederate statues—each depicting an unnamed soldier, mustache bristling and rifle in hand, perched atop pedestals anchored by sturdy concrete bases. These statues, once prominent fixtures in their respective communities, were removed in the wake of nationwide social justice protests and now stand together in a park that has quickly become a lightning rod for controversy.
The origins of Valor Memorial trace back to 2020, when a surge of activism following the murder of George Floyd swept across the United States. Demonstrators called for the removal of Confederate monuments from public spaces, arguing that they glorified a racist past and perpetuated the "Lost Cause" mythology—a narrative that downplays slavery's central role in the Civil War. According to The New York Times, as statues began to come down across North Carolina, Toni London, a then-member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, saw an opportunity to preserve what she considered an important part of Southern heritage.
“It’s been an obsession to make it succeed, to make it better, and to save more,” London, 52, told The New York Times. She believes that Confederate troops deserve recognition equal to any other veterans. Her vision for Valor Memorial was born after a flatbed truck hauled away a statue from Main Street in Lexington, North Carolina—a statue that, after ownership was confirmed to the local Daughters of the Confederacy chapter, found a new home in Denton.
The land for the park was donated by private owners, inspired by London’s mission. Volunteers cleared the pines, and in 2021, the Lexington statue was rededicated before a crowd of about 600 people. The park soon became a destination for other displaced monuments. Chatham County, after years of storing its Confederate statue, paid nearly $4,000 to transfer it to Valor Memorial in 2024. Winston-Salem followed months later, spending over $31,000 to move and install its statue, which was rededicated in a ceremony featuring a string band playing “Dixie” and Confederate re-enactors firing cannons, as reported by The New York Times and Daily Mail.
For London and her supporters, Valor Memorial is about more than just preserving statues. “If you control the property and control the statue, you control the narrative,” she said. London hopes the park will spark conversations about Southerners who, in her view, fought to protect their states and families against "northern invaders." She disputes the mainstream historical consensus that the Confederacy fought primarily to preserve slavery, a stance that has drawn sharp criticism from historians and civil rights advocates alike.
Critics argue that the park, even though it is private, remains problematic. Melvin McLawhorn, a Pitt County commissioner and longtime civil rights activist, was blunt in his assessment: “This shouldn’t be public.” He recounted the years-long struggle to remove a Confederate statue from the courthouse in Greenville. “Can you imagine going to a courthouse and seeing hatred being symbolized? That’s not right,” McLawhorn said. When the statue was finally removed in June 2020 and placed in storage, it felt, he said, like “liberation throughout the county.”
But keeping these statues in storage was hardly a permanent solution. As Tom Coulson, a former Pitt County commissioner, explained, local governments were often left in a bind by a decade-old North Carolina law designed to protect Confederate monuments. This law, passed after the 2015 Charleston church massacre, restricts what can be done with such statues once removed, leaving municipalities with few options. “Possible options kept falling through because the intended recipients encountered pushback or didn’t want the liability,” Coulson told The New York Times. Eventually, in April 2024, Pitt County’s statue was donated to Valor Memorial after a unanimous vote by county commissioners, who saw the private park as a pragmatic—if imperfect—resolution.
Not everyone involved with the park is still affiliated with the United Daughters of the Confederacy, and the organization itself does not oversee Valor Memorial’s operations. Instead, the park relies on volunteers and donors, who have helped fund the purchase of nearly 12 more acres. London has ambitious plans to display five additional Confederate statues from around the state. The park has also become a gathering place for those who believe Confederates should be valorized, featuring a statuette of Robert E. Lee, a billowing rebel flag, and monuments inscribed with phrases like “Sleep martyrs of a fallen cause.”
Despite its focus on Confederate memory, London insists that Valor Memorial is not solely a Confederate park. She points to Veterans Day luncheons, a memorial wall that includes at least one tribute to a Union soldier, and forthcoming memorials for the Spanish-American and Vietnam wars as evidence of the park’s broader mission to honor all veterans. “We didn’t want it to just be a Confederate park,” London said, emphasizing the park’s role as a community gathering place.
Still, the park’s existence has reignited fierce debates over how history should be remembered—and who gets to tell the story. Rivka Maizlish, a senior research analyst at the Southern Poverty Law Center, warned that Valor Memorial could serve as a “site of education” for those susceptible to the Lost Cause mythology. “People could go there and be propagandized into the Lost Cause mythology,” Maizlish told The New York Times. The center, which tracks Confederate memorials nationwide, supports their removal from public spaces.
Some local officials view the park pragmatically, as a way to resolve contentious disputes over controversial monuments. Winston-Salem Mayor Allen Joines, for instance, expressed gratitude that Valor Memorial provided a solution when his city struggled to find a home for its statue. “Given the challenges of finding a destination for the statue, I was very thankful that Valor Memorial had come along,” he said.
The debate over Valor Memorial is far from settled. As more statues find their way to Denton and the park expands, questions linger about the line between private commemoration and public history, about whose stories are elevated and whose are pushed aside. Whether Valor Memorial will ultimately serve as a bridge between divided communities or deepen existing rifts remains to be seen. For now, the park stands as a testament to the enduring power—and controversy—of the symbols we choose to preserve.
