Tuesday, June 26, Selma

Joanne Bland

Ruth Lovejoy:

Joanne Bland had an effect; she changed the idea of civil rights for me. Besides her engaging and entertaining manner, her honesty and authenticity were reflected throughout the entire tour. Standing in front of the Carver housing projects, hearing her story about growing up there, in exactly that spot, started to make it real for me. Learning, listening, and walking across that bridge, I felt an inkling of the oppression and repression the protesters must have felt. The children, "it had to be the children," Lynda, Joanne’s sister drove home the sights, smells, and physical violence of that day. At the end, when Joanne looked all of us in the eye and asked us as teachers, What are we going to do? I could tell she meant it as a serious challenge. I've been thinking about it ever since.

Jeff Hauser:

Joanne Bland telling us about "Colored Day" at the library, which was normally off limits to persons of color.  Federally funded buildings like the local library, however, were required to have a day for colored people to have access.  On Wednesdays, Selma businesses closed down for the day, and on Wednesdays blacks could have access to the library.

Ann Hewitt:

When teaching history, we tend to teach events in a very superficial, sanitized, and simplified way.  We usually do not have time to delve deep into a topic, specifically to point out that our heroes were not alone in creating history; they had a great amount of help.  Joanne Bland mentioned a great quote indicating that a historical story is like a jigsaw puzzle; every piece must be in place to create the picture.  Dr. King, Mr. Lewis and others had help in planning the Selma Marches from organizing the marches, providing security, giving people rides, providing shelter and food.  These little activities, that rarely make it into the historical record, are vital pieces the success of any movement, and were often acts that could cause you to be killed.

Ian Jolley:

Joanne Bland was there -- and her hometown is still filled with objects and people who evoke strong memories and emotions. I felt honored that she shared her humor but also her anger with us. 

Selma National Park Service Interpretive Center

Susan Ruble:

On our drive into Selma I was thinking about how great it must be to live/teach in an area rich with history.  I have often been jealous of those who teach in an area that has a "history" that can be used to motivate and inspire students.  I was shocked when we watched the video at the Selma NPS Interpretive Center.  The opening scenes quickly explained that the students in the area "don't know the history" and are not involved in the voting process even today. I thought, How can the young people not know the sacrifices that were made by their neighbors and relatives?  As our discussion went on, Joanne implied that the schools don't "teach it" or use the primary sources available to them. This seems incredibly wrong.  I cannot fathom having history in your backyard and not using it.  I guess I would like to know why it isn’t being taught.  Is it because the "material is not on the state test" or is it because of their "heritage views"?  It really seems to me that the kids of Selma (and in the rest of the US) need to appreciate what others have gone through to insure the most basic of rights.  I wonder how many kids in Selma have never asked their grandparents etc. about what it was like to live in a segregated community and if they did, would it change their opinion about becoming active in their community and in the voting process.

Brown A.M.E. Church

Tina Krummel:

When I stood at the Brown Church I was struck with the fact that the children's march started in this church. That it was the children who came from the church and into the waiting arms of their oppressors, the police and segregationists. The children who went to jail; who were attacked and beaten; all in the name of voting rights for their parents and other adults. The children had nothing to lose and everything to gain, by obtaining their right to vote like all citizens.

The reason it struck me is when I looked up at the stain glass window it was a depiction of Jesus and the children. How ironic that the Children's March would start in a church with the front window showing Jesus preaching to the children.

Erin Lynnes:

Joanne Bland took us to the Brown Chapel AME Church, which was the starting point for the march to Montgomery to demand voting rights.  John Lewis and Hosea Williams left from this church on what would come to be known as Bloody Sunday, leading six hundred and some marchers across the Edmund Pettus Bridge.  At the base The marchers were violently attacked by armed police at the base of the bridge.

The church has been nicely kept up and a new brick sidewalk runs the length of the block upon which the church sits.  Across the street from this church is the George Washington Carver housing project.  The grass is over grown and Joanne Bland, our guide, reported that the whole housing project floods when it rains.  The juxtaposition of the two represents how far we've come but how far we still have to go.  These things take time, but I'm holding out hope that one day soon our communities will care as much about people as they do about sidewalks

Heidi James:

The Projects. I stood by the Brown A.M.E. church and stared at all the identical, plain brown brick buildings across the street, down the road and beside me.  I tried to count, but quickly lost track.  At a minimum, there were 48 buildings.  They all looked the same and had a military feeling to them.  There were hardly any people mulling about.  Then again, it was still morning and it was very hot out. It seemed very depressing and constricting.

Joanne Bland said that she lived here and this is where it all began in Selma, in these "projects."  These people were among those who rose up and said "no more." They had nothing to lose, maybe because they really did have nothing.

Sarah Pickering:

When we were at the Brown Chapel, I noticed the same thing that bothered Joanne. The MLK statue had "I HAD a Dream" written on it. For one, those aren't his words and, secondly, has the dream been achieved? I would assume most people would still say no.

Josh Sween:

I will cherish the rock forever.

Selma Itself

Bill Gill:

The dichotomy of wealth is apparent in Selma. Beautiful homes with their neatly manicured lawns sit in stark contrast to apparently abandoned derelict houses, decaying hulks mere shadows of their former status. Sitting next to one another on the same block, this gulf of maintenance could be seen from one doorstep to the next. This strange combination seemed to be a metaphor for the race relations now in play in Selma.

It seemed that there is a lot that yet needs to be repaired. The old memories are spoken in a monolog rather than a dialog. The dominant culture does not bring their story to the history of the voting rights struggle. We had the great pleasure to here from several individuals with memories of voting rights activism. We did not hear from anyone that could speak for the position of the white citizens.  When one pushed to get an answer it would seem that the white people in Selma refuse to accept the role they played in this tragedy claiming no part. Until true conversations are held between the people of Selma the old ghosts of segregation will appear to lurk just under the visible level.

So as the remodeled and the disrepaired homes sit side-by-side one may look at one side of the street and see one Selma and the other side of the street an entirely different Selma. So too, the viewer may see an integrated Selma but not a unified Selma. The healing has not  been completed.

Edmund Pettis Bridge

Tate Haglund-Pagel:

What strikes me standing at the end of the Selma Bridge is the tension that must have been felt on that day and that the balance of history was being fought over at this spot. Walking from Selma I can't help but think about how it would have felt to walk over that bridge and see phalanxes of police blocking the way. Apparently they mean to stop the march, but you can see the road beyond them that leads to Montgomery literally and your rights figuratively.  It seems insurmountable to get through those police, so what draws your feet forward?  The hope that they will miraculously part?  The hope that enough of the police have enough humanity in their heart to stand down despite their superior’s orders? The hope that even if you are stopped, or even killed, that this will be a testament and inspiration for OTHERS to walk the bridge tomorrow?

But on the other side of the bridge I must think from other points of view. What am I thinking if I am a club wielding, gas masked officer of the law? Do I look at that stream of people and think this is just another day on the job? Do I see them and think we will stop them today and that will crush the movement -- we beat it out of them during reconstruction and we'll do what our great-grandfathers did again? Do I see them and think why not just let them go, and we’ll get them when the cameras are off? Do I see them and think here is an unstoppable movement, but I'm going to make them pay for every little step?

And what of bystanders? Reporters? FBI agents? Blacks not marching?

The events of that day were not written in the stars. Each individual made conscious and unconscious decisions that in their totality would change the views of millions of other individuals, who would live lives of less dramatic but by no means less important moments.

To borrow Joanne Bland’s analogy each of these people was a piece of a puzzle. Without any of them the picture would not have appeared as it did.

Nathan Jungmeyer:

Children’s Footsteps. Selma is quite a bit bigger than Tuskegee and sits on the banks of the Alabama River.  Across the river spans the arching famous Edmund Pettus Bridge.  This is the bridge that waves of people attempted to cross and march to Montgomery.  Our group had that chance to follow in the footsteps of these brave and often scared freedom marchers.

We met two of these freedom marchers.  In 1965, Joanne and Lynda Blackmon were young girls who made multiple attempts to cross the E.P. Bridge.  Their stories about life in Selma were moving.  Before coming to Selma, I would have thought that the discussion of a children’s civil rights movement would have been saved for Birmingham.  But Joanne (now Bland) wanted to emphasize that the Selma voting rights movement was a children's movement.  She emphasized that, "children when to jail so parents could register."  As I took the first steps over the crest of the bridge, I was trying to imagine how lines filled with children approached a barricade of Alabama state troopers.

Frank Juresh:

The Edmund Pettus Bridge was constructed in 1940 and was named after a confederate brigadier general.  It was the site of the beating of the mourners of Jimmy Lee Jackson and peaceful pro-voting rights marchers on orders of Sheriff Jim Clark. The site of the initial beatings on Bloody Sunday were over the line of sight of the bridge on the left side.  The old car on the bottom right corner reminds me that the civil rights movement of today may be the fight for economic opportunity for all.  In Selma there are many nice neighborhoods as well as neighborhoods where people live in stifling poverty just like many modern cities in the United States.

Michael Perri:

I always thought that the marchers were pushed back across the Edmund Pettus Bridge with the force that has been documented in the video footage that we have All seen. I was not aware that the State Troopers and local police continued the violence into the town, and continued beating people all night.

Matt Prissel:

Even though the temperatures were hot, I felt goosebumps as I reached the highpoint of the bridge and started the downward descent as I knew what had transpired in this same location almost 50 years earlier.  Obviously, the Alabama State Troopers were not waiting for us, but as I walked I closed my eyes and tried to see them.

Ryan Prod:

From the readings, I did not get an accurate sense of the height over the river.  I thought it was a wooden bridge that stretched low to the ground like in the movies that depicts the stereo typical Southern geography.  While reading about "Bloody Sunday," I kept wondering why the marchers did not jump into the river for safety from the tear gas and batons.  While retracing the march across the bridge I got my answer. The bridge was like a door with no way out other than the way you came.

Tamara Schick:

I was in the second row marching across the bridge, and I was inspired by the people behind me, but I also thought about the fact that I was at the front. I would be an easy target.

Jeff Woodward:

What if Bloody Sunday is not the violent explosion by the troopers and Clark’s posse?  Lewis never really gets the recognition and maybe never gets to congress. The voting rights act is at best delayed and most likely never happens. King does not reach his goals in the south. Violence becomes a larger force in the movement.  Segregation and denial of voting rights continues longer in the south.  African American Pop culture does not gain the social prominence that it has today.  Johnson does not  create the anti-poverty legislation that comes after the Voting Rights Act. Barack Obama is only a lawyer in some northern law firm. The list goes on.

Aaron Piehl:

I have no words for the Edmund Pettus Bridge.  I would compare it to visiting Gettysburg or the White House.

Lunch at Tabernacle Baptist Church

Corey Nazer:

The "History Makers" lunch was superb.  Not only was the food profoundly good, but I was not prepared for the wealth of personal narratives we would have the opportunity to hear and appreciate.  It was very much a pleasant surprise to have the very people serving lunch be the individuals the not only made lunch, but also shared their own Civil Rights stories from Selma.  That experience put a real face on the Movement. Joanne Bland was wonderful, but these "average" people were just as incredible. People from the north, people that have no knowledge of the Civil Rights Movement need to see African Americans in a simple light -- a light very similar to that of their own lives. I will not forget that lunch.

Eric Nelson:

As we were sitting the Brown Church basement eating a delicious lunch, I realized that our group was in the company of Real Heroes. As Linda Lowery told her story I realized that history was now coming off the pages of the textbook and was appearing right in front of me. Even the women who made our potato salad and sweet tea were at that bridge and were real heroes. They were there that day, suffering horrible atrocities to earn their own freedom that was promised to them so many times. Joanne Bland, her sister and other are living proof that ordinary people can do extraordinary things. Which brings us to Joanne's question of how do we fit into this puzzle. I pledge to tell these stories in my classroom every year, and never forget their heroic stories.

Lynda Blackmon Lowery

Vincent Czahor:

The most memorable part of the day was not the rock we each got or walking across the Edmund Pettis Bridge, but the story Lynda shared with Nathan, Julie, and I at lunch.  Lynda had told us that segregation and Jim Crow had killed her mother. It was not a KKK lynching, or a shooting on a road, but a blood transfusion that did not happen in time. Joanne shared the same story with us later in the day.  The girls’ mother was expecting another baby, but the baby had died inside their mother.  The dead baby was poisoning their mother so an operation had to be performed. They had to wait for blood to come in my train because they could not use the same typed blood from the local white hospital.  Even the blood had to be segregated. Their father had rushed to the train station to get the blood as it arrived, but it was too late, they had lost their mother ...

Julie Mecikalski

... By the time Mr. Blackmon arrived back at the infirmary with the desperately needed blood, he was informed that Mrs. Blackmon had passed away.  She was still in the hallway and was never put into a hospital room.

Amy Lund:

Joanne Bland's sister, Lynda Lowery, nearly made me cry today at lunch. Her tale of Bloody Sunday was so powerful... especially because I show "Eyes on the Prize" in class and I could see in my head exactly what she was describing.

But what affected me the most is the part of her story where she was jailed for nine days and no one in her family knew where she was.  I think she was 14.

I don’t understand how this was even possible.  Don’t get me wrong -- I totally believe that is what happened.  I just don’t get a world where it could.  What kind of messed up were those policemen, politicians, and segregationists who thought taking young kids and throwing them in horribly overcrowded jail cells was a good idea?

And to not let their parents know where they were for the whole time... this was such a time of disappearances... I can’t imagine what those parents were going through.

Jake Boll:

As a 14 year old (who turned 15 during the march) she was of high school age and took part in something bigger than herself.  Her frightening story of when she saw Joanne and thought that her little sister was dead touched me as it became very real.  She was putting her and her sister’s lives at risk for a cause she believed in.  I hope to convey this bravery to my students who may not believe that they can make a difference.  I hope that my students will do something in their lives that they are truly proud of, just as Lynda is proud of the scar from the five stitches above her eye and the 19 stitches on the back of her head from the brutality that she met in Selma.

Also, I got a kick out of Lynda’s story about her college professor who said that Selma was about Civil Rights and she got in the ring with him and argued, "No, I was there, I marched for my voting rights; I had my civil rights!"  Way to stand up for yourself and be a primary source.

Laura Hartman:

Joanne's sister Lynda stood in front of a room full of teachers -- from a different state -- and in many respects a different culture altogether -- and explained her story.  Perhaps, after sharing her story so many times with others, the task becomes fairly easy. It is in my nature to assume, however, that the task is never easy.  She must have felt so vulnerable, and I wish I could personally express my appreciation for her willingness and courage.

Tabernacle Baptist Church

Michael Downie:

Liberation theology. I have been looking to understand King's theology and this seems to give an explanation. The Reverend at Tabernacle Baptist in Selma spoke about this theology.  He spoke about connecting the liberation movement to the fleeing of the Israelites from Egypt. Many of King's speeches use references to the Promised Land and crossing the Jordan. My question I still look to answer is if King preached the gospel and spoke of heaven and hell. Did he say Jesus is the only way to heaven? I wonder if parts of his theology are left out because they would be considered intolerant of other religions.

Barbara Sorenson:

Black Americans were not allowed to exit the church through the front doors that faced the main street.  The architect remedied that problem by constructing the side of the church to be a replica of the front.

The National Voting Rights Museum and Institute

Deb Foster:

I prepared for Selma. My emotions often get the better of me when confronted with injustice, particularly injustice that involves violence. So I prepared. I read and then re-read the stories of Selma.  I watched and then re-watched the news footage. I walked the bridge and felt the vibrations of those who had walked before; engaged in non-violence willing to suffer the blows to prove to the world their own humanity.

I prepared and was successful in maintaining control of my emotions, until coming around the corner of The National Voting Rights Museum and Institute where I confronted the wall size image of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Teresa’s dedication of service to others, her commitment to living her faith, her willingness to suffer to ensure the human dignity of those without a voice makes her a giant in the world of non-violent compassion.  When Teresa’s heart stopped in Calcutta on September 5, 1997 the city lost electricity and she could not be revived.  She passed in darkness to become a shining light of compassion for us all.  When I saw her image I realized I could never really prepare for Selma.  Her life and the lives of all those who engage in non-violent actions to further human dignity remind us all to never be still in the face of injustice.

Lowndes County Interpretive Center

Chris Kelly:

We were in the Lowndes Interpretive Center and Joanne was retelling a story from the morning. From something Joanne said, I thought,

"Jimmie Lee Jackson fell so that this flag could stand ... for something."

I understand it is not a great picture, but it is the flag that was in the Lowndes intrepretive center.  At that moment it spoke to me.

All of Selma's Foot Soldiers

Liz Bohl:

Let's face it -- our books followed the famous leaders. It was nice to hear the perspectives of those important foot soldiers because without them the movement would not have been a success. I was struck by the emotion that these people spoke with and how much segregation and the fight for civil rights still haunts them. In my mind I know you don’t just get over truly tramatic events; but so often these types of things aren't spoken of.