Reflections from Sunday, October 29

T. Marie King is a force to be reckoned with for the Irondale (Alabama) community. Our morning started at the lynching memorial for William Wardley, one of the Jefferson County Lynching Memorial sites. We learned about the amazing work Ms. King is doing to ensure that community members are creating spaces for truth telling to exist. While learning from Ms. King, a number of loud trains came through interrupting our time and all I could do was think about the histories of my people on trains in the area. All I could imagine was how many trains were sources of escape for Black people years ago, holding hopes of having those train tracks lead them to somewhere they could be free. 

Next, we made our way to the 16th Street Baptist Church and the commemorative Kelly Ingram Park across the street. I am intentional about what I wear on my body and the messaging that I send so it meant the world to me to wear my t-shirt that honors them today. Denise McNair. Addie Mae Collins. Carole Robertson. Cynthia Wesley. Denise was 11 years old when she was brutally murdered by white men who bombed their church on that Sunday. Addie Mae, Carole and Cynthia were all 14 years old. They were celebrating youth day at church. It bothers me so much that Black children aren’t even safe. I often think of the horrible things they had to normalize in their short time on earth, the things that they restricted themselves from even dreaming about because of the racism that they all witnessed in their community. All of that and still, they did not get the privilege of seeing another day, hoping that things could get better for them one day. Sarah remembers that before the bombing Denise turned around and asked Addie Mae for help tying the sash in the back of her dress. Soon after, their lives would be taken and Sarah would be the only one left to recount the horrors. It took 39 years for three of the four murderers to face any repercussions for the murders they committed. The fourth one died before that could happen for them. That always disgusts me, that murderers can see to it that someone doesn’t experience any opportunities to live and make memories but the murderers can go on about their lives for decades with absolutely no consequences. I think about the four little girls often, also the fifth one. There are certain times where I am experiencing a moment of joy and think about them, wishing they could have to. In some instances I even take a moment to honor them and dedicate my moment to them. 

One of my favorite things about the park was that the markers honoring the four young girls told the full story in also including the two Black boys that were also murdered the evening of the day that they were as well as the fifth girl who was present in the church basement but survived with injury, Sarah Collins. Sarah was Addie Mae’s younger sister and lost sight in her right eye with no compensation until this day. She has mentioned in interviews how challenging it has been for her not receiving restitution and continuing to pay medical bills for her injuries. 

We spent a significant portion of today with Ms. Joanne Bland. As soon as I saw her, something felt familiar. I felt like I had seen her before. Lo and behold, my memories came flooding in and I realized that I actually had met Ms. Bland during my trip to Selma in 2015 for the 50th year anniversary of the Edmund Pettus Bridge crossing. It was amazing seeing her again and learning about all of the amazing things she has done since I last saw her. She took us by Live Oak Cemetery that was riddled with confederate flags which took me aback. Ms. Bland told us the story of how Lt. General Nathan Bedford Forrest’s commemorative markers made their way to the cemetery and the community’s frustrations around the preservation of his legacy. The reality of it being common knowledge that he was a proud racist who would rather see Black bodies dead than anything else yet there is a strong commitment to ensuring he remain not just present but celebrated is disgusting. I can never call myself surprised by this because if nothing else, history has taught me that at its core, this country is as racist as racism goes and any opportunity to spin a negative narrative will be taken advantage of fully. We also took a look at how different markers told the stories of the past in ridiculous ways. The signage dedicated to Lt. General Forrest tries so hard to make him sound like a great person and successful businessowner. One commemorative marker even called him a self-made millionaire with absolutely no mention of the Black people that he tortured to get there. Ms. Bland did a great job contextualizing the realities of how people throughout the community feel about the racists being so celebrated. Spending a couple of hours with Ms. Joanne was a privilege and I really hope everyone in the country gets the chance to meet her. She showed us around her community with such pride and hope.

We had dinner at The Coffee Shoppe which is a beautiful space where you can tell love resides. You can tell every food item and drink there is made with love and care. It was wonderful sharing in space and memory with the family that owns it. 

Our next stop was an opportunity to sit down with Ms. Bland to learn about her story and how at a very young age, she joined the fight for freedom. I won’t even bother to attempt to do her story justice and I hope that everyone comes to Alabama to hear from her themselves, but her life is a testament to the power of love. Her commitment to making our country a better place for all is inspiring. Seriously, I want to see everyone come visit her because she has such a powerful spirit that calls you in. 

We ended our evening with crossing the Edmund Pettus Bridge together, marching in a line of two people paired as we crossed. We did so in silence and all I could think about as we crossed was our proximity to the water beneath the bridge and how horrifying it had to be for those who marched across in 1965 not knowing if they would meet their demise over that bridge. We would be remiss if we did not at least think about for a moment how racism and throwing Black people into bodies of water tend to go hand in hand with one another, especially down South. That’s all I could think about as we crossed over, the compounding fears that many had to have had that day. I had the opportunity to walk behind Mr. Charles Mauldin which I cannot even put together the words to describe. I can say that I am inspired by the commitments made by those before me and I hope to continue on their journey to freedom. 

It has been an honor to see the work that Common Power is doing to create a legacy for justice, truth telling and preserving history. Their dedication to meaningfully being a part of the community while ensuring their stories are told is inspirational.