My Day After Bloody Sunday

Gardenia’s Garden Podcast Episode #13

It was the next day, March 8, that pain and anger merged together for my resolve. Click and listen to podcast to understand why.

After Church

The day after #bloodySunday is where this little girl found inner passion to go beyond that day. Bloody Sunday occurred on March 7, 1965. The late John Lewis and other civil rights leaders led a march from Selma, Alabama, to Montgomery. This was an organized demonstration for voting rights. Their mission to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge was met with an angry mob.

I remember that Sunday as a day of pain and agony. We had finished Sunday dinner. It was the only time I did not mind washing the dinner dishes. My tears rolled down my cheeks into the kitchen sink. They merged with the soapy dish water unnoticed.  My parents were glued to our black and white TV in our living room, watching the news with close friends. Their silence and looks of sadness were unbearable.  There were no outbursts; no words spoken. the silence caused a stronger reaction to the images. 

Pain of Silence

pink flower pushes up through sidewalk crack

The most stubborn flower breaks through the stone of challenges (obstacles)?

TV coverage continued throughout that evening. “Walter Cronkite, reporting,” the news anchorman said.  Was there a lesson that Selma wanted to teach us, as Blacks, as to what we could expect as Americans?  Was there no empathy toward our fellow brothers and sisters? Instead, there seems to be a focus on how much cruelty and lawlessness can be inflicted upon us.  Do they not understand that our pain is also their pain – America’s fight?  Do they not understand what my Grandmother taught us – the stubbornness of the sidewalk flower – the most stubborn flower breaks through the stone of challenges (obstacles)?

Lessons Beyond

As a child, even then, I knew that this would not deter the movement for voting and human rights.  We would gather our thoughts and come together even stronger. Like other Black communities, we held on for better. We believed it was a righteous fight for human justice. God loves fairness.

Parents’ Conversation with Us

That night, my parents called us together before going to bed.  They reminded my sister, brother, and me that we were loved.  It was the first time that my father spoke as much on such matters.  He usually allowed Mom to talk the most.  That night, I saw him in a different way.  I knew he was the breadwinner of the family. It was the first time I saw all his pain as a Black man in America (small steps toward change).  I had seen him stand firm in personal moments. He often stood up for his beliefs. Yet, this was the first time I saw his inner pain come to the forefront. 

I went to bed with that image.  I am unsure when I fell asleep. From the bedroom, my parents continued their conversations, even though I was not able to hear what was said.

Morning After – A Difference – My Day After Bloody Sunday

The next day was a school day and we were expected to be “about it.” The bus ride to school was solemn. There was not the usual chattering, but that day was my day of reflection like no other. 

When President John F. Kennedy was killed, the principal, Mr. James Bulluck, gathered the entire school into the auditorium. He reminded us that we were as good as anyone else. As a result, I was expecting an assembly.  There was none.  Still, it was again, at G. W. Bulluck Elementary School, that pain and anger were infused to spring forth my resolve. 

Miss Lucas Speaks 

The words came from my 4 feet 9 inches fifth-grade teacher. Miss Lucas, was her name – not Ms. Lucas.  She made that clear on day one of her class.

She was not a nurturing teacher; stern but fair. We called her “mean.”  My sister had warned me, that she is shorter than Mrs. Tyson and meaner than any teacher she had known.  So, my fear of her, had been certified and sanctioned by my Sis.  I had been in her class since September and I had never seen Miss Lucas smile.  She was not about to do so today after scenes from “Bloody Sunday.”   This “mean teacher” sat from her desk and delivered words that have affected my journey by simply saying, “Choices.”  Miss Lucas loved Science.  Science, to her, was balance in life – it was physical, chemical, biological, and reactionary. 

The choices we make in life bring reactions and changes.  In essence, she said, “If one chooses to do homework, the reactions and changes affect your life.  If one chooses NOT to do homework, those reactions affect your life.  Still, if one chooses to do good, reactions and changes affect your life. Even if one chooses to do bad, the reactions and changes affect your life.  Chain reactions stimulate the world. Your choices are yours, but know that for every cause, there is an effect; expect the chain reaction.  Hatred can cause a chain reaction that fuels combustion.  So, consider and make choices in life that will lead you to changes for the good.”

Respect

I think about Miss Lucas – that “ole mean teacher” with eyeglasses hung around her neck, held by a chain.  From then on, I saw her differently.  She was not an old spinster to me anymore. This lady was smart. She made choices. i.e., to teach, be a single woman and be a surrogate Mom to her students. Now, I view her with an attitude of gratefulness.

That day, she gave this little girl a deeper understanding of reactions and changes.  I no longer despised those Science lessons. Instead, I had POWER to change the things around me.  Yes, I had POWER to change things for the good.  Yes, my parents, Sunday School teachers, and many strong figures gave me great advice.  This 4’ 9” woman gave me a belief. I had unused POWER. It was a kinetic force that draw reactions. It can make changes personally and globally.  Moreover, I possess the POWER to help change this world. I will use my anger and pain to do good. Maybe I can remove the pain I saw in my father’s eyes.

A Hope – Beyond My Day After Bloody Sunday

Somewhere in this world, some little child feels the same as I did that day.  Somewhere, that child will see pain; perhaps, encounter anger and hatred. Then, that child will also make a declaration, saying, “Just watch me make change!”

“I can do all things, through Christ Jesus, who strengthens me.”

For more experiences, continue to share and read our blog posts.

Click here for #bloodySunday for more about the history of bloody Sunday. Similar blog posts, we suggest:

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