Lake County residents will soon face an important question posed by Measure U: “Do you support or oppose Kelseyville's name change?”

Even though this vote is nonbinding, it represents a strong signal of where we stand.

We can all agree that the tension has been disheartening, but we’ve been through this debate before. I was part of one of the last graduating classes to be known as the “Kelseyville High School Indians.”

The school board’s decision to change the mascot, though controversial, was ultimately the right one. The new mascot avoided disrespecting the Pomo, allowed us to move forward together and was ultimately embraced.

At the heart of the issue was this simple question: “Is the mutual respect of all community members worth the discomfort of change?” In 2006, that answer was a resounding “Yes.”

In 2024, we see similar arguments. I note the hypocrisy of decrying the costs of changing the name considering the sophisticated effort made to oppose it.

The cascade of lawn signs, t-shirts, banners, media advertisements and other materials distributed throughout the community has surely been a costly venture, not to mention the taxpayer money expended to put Measure U on the ballot. I don’t think cost is the heart of the issue.

Equally misguided is the argument that changing the name will undermine efforts to improve our name recognition. In my experience, folks from out of the area are more likely to recognize the name Konocti (as in “Konocti Harbor”) than they are Kelseyville. It’s usually how I qualify where I am from.

Considering that this debate has now received local, regional, statewide and national press coverage, it is apparent that the larger risk is one of perception. How will we be viewed if we do nothing? Will we be able to say with a straight face that we are “a friendly country town?”

Ultimately, I think the true argument is an emotional one. Kelseyville prides itself on its agricultural heritage, rural lifestyle, and spirit and tenacity of the pioneers. Many of Kelseyville’s residents are descendants of the pioneers and connect deeply to this history and legacy.

I love Kelseyville for these same reasons. But we must acknowledge that there are people in our community who connect deeply to the very same history in a significantly different way.

We must sit with the fact that at least one person is alive today who has heard firsthand stories of the Bloody Island Massacre from a family member. This is not ancient history. It is alive, and real, and felt. The pioneers' triumph was the Pomos’ tragedy, and how we choose to reconcile that reality is what truly defines us.

Days ago, I learned something that compelled me to write this letter. In 1950, Andrew Kelsey and Charles Stone were exhumed and reburied beneath the site of a new monument: “The First Adobe House.” This historic landmark, which has long greeted visitors and residents as they cross the bridge into our town, is effectively a tomb.

Despite recent attempts to rewrite history, Andrew Kelsey remains inexorably connected to Kelseyville whether we like it or not. The only way forward is to confront and dismantle this connection or Kelsey’s legacy will continue to haunt us.

I have witnessed my hometown come together to achieve remarkable things. We have been resilient through floods, fire, drought, recession and controversy. No matter where we stand on this issue, we all have common ground. We love this beautiful place and are invested in its well-being.

This is why I have an optimistic vision of a near future when that monument on the edge of town will instead read:

“Here lie Andrew Kelsey and Charles Stone, who were killed in 1849 for their heinous crimes against the Pomo and Wappo people of this area. In 2024, the community formerly known as Kelseyville denounced these atrocities, and in collaboration with Lake County’s seven tribes, unified under the name Konocti.”

Brenna Sullivan Kennedy is a resident of Kelseyville, California.