On March 7, 1965, a large group of peaceful marchers began their journey in the city of Selma, Alabama. What would start as a nonviolent protest would unfortunately take a twist for the worst, and before the crowd, led by activist John Lewis and Hosea Williams, could proceed over the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma to travel to Montgomery they were met by a sea of blue. It was like going over the rainbow and realizing that the pot of gold had been replaced by a swarm of angry police officers fighting on the wrong side of history.
Selma had been deemed as one of the most segregated cities in the South, and this new fight towards justice was no walk in the park. Jimmie Lee Jackson, an innocent marcher, was shot in the stomach during the nonviolent brigade that viciously turned violent. He died 8 days later, and this day will become known as Bloody Sunday.
You would think that after this event, which most definitely hurt the reputation of Selma, the residents would come to learn from their mistakes. Well after visiting today, I can say (with a bitter taste in my mouth) that that is unfortunately false. In all honesty, I don’t think I have ever been more disgusted at a place in my lifetime. While riding around the city I cringed at ever turn and every fact thrown at me about the harsh realities of Selma, Alabama. The fact that the town is still incredibly segregated is a disgrace to this country and a big slap in the face to the Civil Rights Movement.
Their schools, neighborhoods, churches and even country clubs are still divided. In the city, the public schools are 99 percent African American and 0 percent White. The private schools, which require extensive testing and cost a lot of money, are 95 percent White and 0 percent African American. When a little Black girl registered for a private school in the area, the town went into a rampage. They put graffiti on the walls of the local Wal-Mart, which displayed derogatory terms and images of a lynching. It was like Selma had never left the 60s. The neighborhoods are either strictly all black or strictly all white. The Eastside is where the majority of the poverty is and also the Black community while the Westside is completely White. With the 130 churches in the area, only one is integrated. And the privately owned golf country club has yet to admit an African American member. In fact, in order to fulfill the application process you need to attach a picture of yourself to the form. Out of all of these acts of segregation, I think the one that ultimately got to me the most was the segregation after death…yes that’s right after death. Is heaven segregated? The people in Selma must think so because even the cemeteries between Whites and Blacks are separate. They cannot be buried together. It upsets me that a city or a group of people would go as far as to even separate the corpses of its citizens.
My frustration didn’t end there. I was completely disgusted to how much of the city is dedicated to the Confederacy and Jefferson Davis (the president of the Confederacy during the Civil War) and how little there was on the actual positives of the Civil Rights Movement. Even a statue in front of Brown Chapel church of Dr. King did absolutely no justice. On the statue were the words, “I HAD a Dream.” This is controversial. I see this as to saying that the movement is over and that more change is not necessary in this community. It also is somewhat as a satirical message practically making fun of the assassination of Dr. King. The schools here don’t even close for Martin Luther King Day. Instead, they are off on the birthday of the infamous Jefferson Davis.
What I learned here honestly makes me distraught. For merely the whole day I was speechless and still am in some ways. We walked across the Pettus Bridge and I felt something—something I had never felt before in my soul. It was a feeling of sorrow mixed with an odd feeling of belonging and courage. I just walked across and took photos of the view. The fighters, I’m sorry, the peace walkers of the movement walked across and faced a darkness that was still portrayed in those individuals who could not let go of the values of the Confederacy.
Luckily, throughout all of the displeasing efforts to progress, there was a light here in Selma. An organization by the name of the Freedom Foundation helps to integrate the community. We were able to sit down and meet with some of the volunteers of the program and some of the children that they help to see a light that had been dimmed for so long in this community. It was a treat, no an honor, to be in their presence and hear their stories. I am forever grateful for that experience. I wish I could tell more about what I experienced here in Selma, but this must be brief, and I truly believe that one cannot understand what I felt here today unless they experience it themselves. I just hope that one day this city will dig itself a graveyard (integrated of course), and place in it the values, morals, and mindset of the Confederacy and learn to move on.