I left Montgomery and continued to follow the Black History trail in Alabama. I plan to do much more than Black History in Alabama, but I feel it is important to cover it throughly before I move on to all the vast aspects of this state. Still emotional from my experience in Montgomery photographing Martin Luther King's parsonage and church...I could not get out of my mind how simple and peaceful his life seemed in his small home. With the sunlight pouring in the windows, it just seems so innocent.
Peaceful and innocent was really not the case at all during the time that Martin Luther King lived in this house. My eyes were opened in Birmingham (previously called Bombingham because so many African American households were "bombed." One neighborhood was even called Dynamite Hill. My first stop was the 16th Street Baptist Church.
This beautiful stain glass depiction of Jesus was left pretty much intact the day four black girls were killed in May of 1961 when a bomb hit the church service they were attending. After the bomb erupted, the only piece missing was his face. As you can see, it has been repaired, but the story of the day the church was "hit" is still resonating. I thought to myself, my birthday is around that time of year...and I remember 1961 because I was a teenager. My main interest during that time was what color shoes I was to wear to various parties. I had no idea all girls my age were not experiencing the same life. I did not know about fear or discrimination. The park across the street from the church shows what the Black community was facing...every day.
These are water guns. No, not squirt guns...real water guns that could really hurt you. Note it is teenagers that they are pointed at...Children were targets too...no matter what age. Then there were the dogs.
Fierce and mean dogs. The kind that are taught to kill.
Now there is also a place where the entire story can be told. The story of the movement, the story of the girls, the story of the "Times, they are a-changin." It is the Civil Rights Institute and it is across the street from the church and the park.
The exhibits in the Institute are brutally honest. Colored and White. Black and White. White and Tan...just like the color of the cooler. The Civil Rights Institute tells it like it was. The hate, the discrimination and the struggle.
The Ku Klux Klan. White Robes and burned crosses. Who was underneath. Could it be your local banker? barber? school teacher? No one really knew for sure. But they left their mark...and now they are gone. But the Black History lesson continues. From Birmingham, I drove to Selma to experience first hand what it was like to sing "We Shall Overcome" and march across the Edmund Pettus bridge.
I was there today to hear the speeches, listen to the songs and to walk across the bridge and feel the emotions.
They lined up like they did 45 years ago. Hand in hand walking across the bridge. It did not stop there. Many of them plan to walk the 50 miles to Montgomery to remember the event to the fullest. Even Jesse Jackson showed up.
How can anyone forget that he was there when Martin Luther King was shot. He was there during all of these events....45 years ago.
I drove on to Montgomery following the exact route that was taken for the original march. It was 50 miles. 50 Miles of thoughts about my teenage years, the black and white TVs showing these "far away" events and realizing how far we have all come. Or have we?
On to Tuskegee tomorrow.
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