Ride to the Edmund Pettus Bridge

Ride to the Edmund Pettus Bridge

Growing up, I only learned the “standard” stuff about the Civil Rights movement.   Pretty much just what was in my Texas-state-adopted-history textbooks, which means that I missed a lot.   It wasn’t until I began working on my Ph.D. in curriculum and instruction, in 2000, and started digging into the history of school desegregation in Baton Rouge, that I became aware of just how large the hole in my knowledge was.

So I began working on filling it.   I assume this will be a lifelong endeavor and one that I never anticipate being able to say I have completed.

Ever since I read Georgia Congressman John Lewis’s amazing memoir, Walking with the Wind (I cannot recommend this book more enthusiastically), I have wanted to go see the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama–along with numerous other noteworthy places significant to the Civil Rights movement. I felt like I just had to see this place where approximately 25,000 people marched to draw attention to the issue of racial inequality and discrimination in our country.   25,000 people.   That’s almost as many people as live in my entire town.

This summer, as we were planning a big college tour road trip, I happened to notice that if we went a certain way, driving through Selma was only a little bit out of our way.   That was it.   This was my chance.

As we approached Selma in late June 2013, I started reading some things to the kids about John Lewis and about the events leading up to the Selma to Montgomery March in 1965.   I felt a little bit like a pilgrim, on a hajj.   Once we got there, we got out of the car and walked around.   We had our usual combination of good moments and annoying ones that included fighting, bickering, whining, inexplicable reluctance to get out of the car, not being able to find one’s shoes, etc.   But mostly it was awesome.

It felt like sacred ground to me (thus my inclusion of the slideshow here as part of the Ride to Church series).   In part, I wished I had had the opportunity to just sit and be in that space, quietly, for a while, but it wasn’t meant to be.   Instead, I enjoyed having my kids there.   As we were all piling back into the car, one of them (I can’t remember which one) said, “I’ll never forget coming here.”   And I said, “Me, neither.”

Fast forward to September 2013.   Lots of people in Mormon-internet-land (a.k.a. the “Bloggernacle”) are all abuzz about Ordain Women and the event that is taking place on Saturday, October 5.   I have been involved in this group, but have been on the fence about going.   Part of me has been wanting to go, of course, because gender inequality in the Mormon church has become an issue that I simply cannot abide. But part of me was thinking of sitting it out–watching the event unfold from the comfort of my backwoods East Texas home–mostly because I’ve grown weary of the issue.  It’s just become too big and too bad and too depressing and, frankly, too hopeless.   I’ve used up a lot of energy over the last 5 years, wringing my hands over it and contemplating the possibility  of never being able to see any meaningful change come to pass during my lifetime (or possibly during my children’s lifetimes).

A couple weeks ago, I sent an email to my aunt, a very thoughtful no-longer-Mormon woman who sympathizes with much of my misfit-Mormon-angst.   In the email, I shared with her some of my thoughts about going or not going and also included a link to the fundraising page.   ;)

She sent this back to me:

“Dear Heather, whether you have 8 people or 83, you will be noticed. Look at how long it took to gain women’s suffrage. I’ll always regret that I had an opportunity to march at Selma and stayed home. So I tried to make up for it by marching against the Vietnam war and for the ERA, but still, there was Selma. Go and try to have your photo taken and post it on YouTube.

Go!”

There it was, again:   Selma.  

So I bought my ticket.   I’ll be there with however many of us show up.   I don’t know that I’ll be noticed, but I will notice it.   And my kids will know I was there, trying to do as I learned as a Mormon girl:

Dare to do right, dare to be true.
You have a work that no other can do.
Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well
Angels will hasten the story to tell.
Dare, dare, dare to do right.
Dare, dare, dare to be true.
Dare to be true, dare to be true.

 This feels right and true to me.

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