One of several powerful installations now located in Kelly Ingram Park, in Birmingham, Alabama - just outside of 16th St Baptist Church where Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson (all age 14) and Cynthia Wesley (age 11) died in a bombing carried out by the KKK in 1963. 

In late June, I had the pleasure of going on the Civil Rights Tour sponsored by UVA’s The Memory Project, part of the Karsh Institute of Democracy. The six-day trip included visits to pivotal landmarks in the South, where we learned about the history of the transatlantic slave trade, the “reconstruction” era, and the more contemporary civil rights movement. As someone who loves Black history, I was excited to finally see these sites, in person. It is one thing to read and teach about this history, but it is completely different to experience it. I found myself crying, often speechless throughout the visit. It is one thing to know about the legacy of slavery, but to see and feel its impact is something I could not even dream of.

The group I traveled with was amazing. We spent a lot of time debriefing, sharing hugs and stories. Amidst all the sadness, we had the opportunity to spend time celebrating Black joy and Black art.

During the trip, Hashim Davis, of UVA’s Office for African-American Affairs, continued to ask us about “legacy” and what our own legacy might be, and additionally what freedom means to us. When it comes to legacy, I think about my time here on earth and those around me. I think about the ex-foot soldiers we met who were sprayed by hoses that had to be held up by four people; who were bitten by dogs: who were beaten and battered---all while only being 13 years old. I think about the pain in their eyes when they asked me to remember them and to tell their stories because they would not be around much longer.

Everyone that we spoke to asked one thing of all of us. They asked that we keep telling their stories.

When we tell the stories of injustices that we have lived through, what will our legacy be? Will we be honest? Will some of us lie about our silence? About our complicity? It makes me think of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” where he notes that our stumbling blocks to freedom are those “moderates” who are more devoted to order than to justice. I think about those who refuse to sit in discomfort and would rather look away.

We are living in a scary time. We live in a time where democracy is losing its value. A time where I might have to fight for the same rights that those who came before me had to fight for. We live in a time where the powers that be are trying to rewrite history, erase these stories. We live in a time where freedom is supposedly for all, while many people use their freedom to suppress the freedoms and voices of others. What is freedom in a world where ingrained systems are upheld despite the subjugation and suffering they cause?

Everyone that we spoke to asked one thing of all of us. They asked that we keep telling their stories because soon they will no longer be with us. This trip changed me. I hope to continue to share the stories that I heard and hope that we can continue a legacy of progress and change.