When the argument was grounded in mass produced statues of confederate generals that were erected just as the civil rights movement was gaining momentum as a reminder to blacks in the south to stay in their place, there was no reason not to tear them down. They were offensive and meant to be. They weren’t artifacts of history, but tin soldiers.

Even those whose heritage was at issue conceded that the statues were crap and had to go.

The concern that remained, however, wasn’t about the statues per se, but about whether this would be a slippery slope. “Presentism,” the viewing of history through the prism of current values, was already taking its toll. Christopher Columbus was a rapist colonizer. Washington and Jefferson were slaveowners. And our first Chief Justice, John Marshall, was, ahem, problematic.

There were strong arguments put forth against statues and monuments honoring the losers in a terrible war. But surely, the argument went, it was understood that there was a difference between the tin soldiers and historical artifacts. Then it became historical artifacts of the confederate losers. But surely, the argument went, this would be no slippery slope. It would go no further.

But William McKinley?

The push follows the rapid fall of Confederate memorials across the South in a victory for activists who view them as celebrating slavery. In the nearly eight months since white supremacists marched in central Virginia to protest the removal of a Robert E. Lee statue, cities across the country have yanked dozens of Confederate monuments. Black politicians and activists have been among the strongest supporters of the removals.

This time, it’s tribal activists taking charge, and it’s the West and California in particular leading the way. The state is home to the largest Native American population in the country and more than 100 federally recognized tribes.

There’s no question that the treatment of Native Americans was terrible. They were deemed savages. They were slaughtered. And their ancestors descendants raised the question, “why not us?”

In February, San Francisco officials said they planned to remove a prominent downtown monument depicting a defeated Native American at the feet of a vaquero and a Spanish missionary. In March, the San Jose City Council booted a statue of Christopher Columbus from the lobby of City Hall.

Other states are joining the movement. The city of Kalamazoo, Mich., said last month it would take down a park monument of a Native American in a headdress kneeling before a westward-facing pioneer. In Alcalde, N.M., and El Paso, statues of the conquistador Juan de Oñate have become subjects of renewed debate.

But McKinley?

In Arcata, a city of about 17,000 about two hours south of the Oregon state line, a long-simmering debate over McKinley caught fire after Charlottesville. Area tribes and activists launched a petition campaign and descended on City Hall. The protesters said they couldn’t watch Confederate monuments fall without thinking of their own statue.

By the winter, the plaza played host to regular protests. McKinley became a symbol of Arcata’s sins against Natives and, by extension, other races too, forcing the city to confront some of its embarrassing history. In 1886, for example, Arcata passed a law calling for the “total expulsion of the Chinese.”

Over the course of the past couple centuries, many have been treated poorly, if not murderously, in America. If we’re to be honest, almost every prominent historical figure engaged in conduct that today would be deemed reprehensible and wholly unacceptable. But they did them in the context of their time, and we are here today, for better or worse, as a result of their actions. We don’t have to like it, but we do have to acknowledge that their sins looked entirely different in context.

Some of the names of American history, Washington and Jefferson, for example, are known and recognized by almost everyone. How many Americans remember William McKinley? He was the 25th President of the United States, assassinated during his second term of office in 1901. He was succeeded by his vice president, Theodore Roosevelt, for whom a statue on horseback guards the entry to Oyster Bay, Long Island.

What’s their problem with McKinley?

One Arcata resident was so incensed over McKinley that he protested 26 days straight on the plaza. He held a sign that read, “This Christmas, give the gift of not supporting racism and murder. Remove the statue.”

Few people outside Arcata would give McKinley a second thought, yet one resident felt so strongly that demanding its removal was worth almost a month of his life?

The debate culminated in February during a long and anger-filled City Council meeting, when dozens of residents packed City Hall to testify on both sides of the issue. In the end, the council voted 4 to 1 to get rid of the statue.

“Is there a difference between honoring McKinley and Robert E. Lee?” the mayor, Sofia Pereira, who was part the majority, said in a recent interview. “They both represent historical pain.”

The trick to being elected mayor, or president, is getting votes, not being capable of rational thought. There is a difference between McKinley and Robert E. Lee, even as it’s worth notiing that Lee isn’t quite the personification of evil that history-challenged ninnies would assume him to be. But Lee was a confederate general. McKinley was the President of the United States of America. There is a difference between the two, and it’s huge.

Do they “both represent historical pain”? Who doesn’t, if you squint enough and peer only through your social justice glasses.

There is probably a McKinley fan club to be found somewhere in the nation, but I’m not a member. If there wasn’t a statue of McKinley to be found anywhere in the nation, I wouldn’t lose a moment’s sleep. I don’t give McKinley much thought, and I’m not prepared to go to war to protect his memory. Indeed, if no one remembers him, so what?

But to those who thoughtfully argued that this would be no slippery slope, that there were good and sound reasons why some statues, some monuments, should come down while others would remain unmolested because of their grounding in history, for better or worse, you were wrong. This isn’t because you didn’t make your points in good faith, but there will always be those deeply passionate simpletons who fail to grasp the distinctions. After all, if it’s right to destroy everyone who “represents historical pain,” no one will ever be safe.