Departed: Montgomery, AL —> Selma, AL. Biked: 50.4 miles (Laura’s Post)
We had an ambitious itinerary for our first full day together. Given I’d arrived late the night before, we woke up early, as our family DNA dictates that we do. Coffee, talk, coffee, breakfast, pack the bikes!
I didn’t really appreciate when we selected Montgomery as our starting place that the intersection of so many historical moments collided within this city. I grew up knowing about the Montgomery bus boycott, that is for the small paragraph our history books dedicated to it. But we were lucky enough to start off our first day of action with a personal tour by the self-described “foot soldier of the civil rights movement.” Jake Williams, (owner of Montgomery Tours, LLC), led us on a 3-hour history tour of the city. He grew up picking cotton for 2 cents a pound outside of Montgomery. When he was 12 years old in 1965, he matched on Day 4 of the historic Selma to Montgomery march, into Montgomery city limits.
We learned so much about this city from Jake, but I’ll just share one vignette. The fountain pictured above is on the site of an 1800’s natural Spring. In the 1800’s Montgomery was becoming a hub for the sale of enslaved people as they were being sent from Louisiana to the Eastern Seaboard or vice versa, (I’m trying to stop using the term “slaves” and instead using “enslaved people” because I think it has different connotations). This one intersection held one of the largest local markets for the sale of enslaved people in the area at the time. In 1861, this fountain was just around the corner from the self-declared capitol of the new Confederate States of America, and a telegram was sent from the cream colored building in the right side of the picture frame, giving an ultimate for the surrender of Fort Sumpter, which essentially tipped off the Civil War. In 1955, it was on this corner (left corner of the picture above, near the clock), facing the fountain that Rosa Parks stood waiting to board a bus that would lead to her arrest for refusing to give up her seat, and tip off what we consider to be the start of the modern Civil Rights Movement, during which boycott campaign Dr. MLK Jr. Was anointed the leader of the movement. Several years later, in March 1965, King and his fellow leaders of SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) and the SCLC (Souther Christian Leadership Conference) led a march of 25,000 people past this fountain, up to the steps of the capitol to deliver a famous speech that was viewed to be a turning point of the Civil Rights Movement, when the momentum of White consciousness finally tipped and legislation began to be passed protecting things like voting rights (which many have been working hard to dismantle ever since) … “When will we be free? How long will it take? Not long! Because no lie can live forever!”
With our heads full, we headed out on the bike. First time loading up, riding out of town after the thunderstorms had given way to a veritable sweat bath (drama from this fragile Northwest flower). The first 10 miles of urban sprawl gave way to unbelievable rolling green pastures, rivers, cows and very few homes. It was an ambitious 50 mile first day for us - relatively untrained legs, loaded bikes, heat and very few services. But it was hard not to try to look at this landscape as I struggled along the route of the 1965 Selma to Montgomery march (more on that tomorrow!), and imagine what it might have felt like to walk that, with only a bedroll and leering, threatening anti-segregationists all around. A lot to think about pedaling along with just your thoughts; maybe one of the things I love best about touring. It’s good to be back.
One theme that struck me from my first day of our adventure was the overflowing pride of these communities, black and white alike. Our tour guide Jake called out early in his tour that “Northerners” often come down here with a load of preconceptions about the South and it’s “backwards” ways. But he showcased the amazing industry and community growth, downtown revitalization of the Montgomery, and gently reminded me that the most violent school integration in the country was actually in Boston, MA. And that racism, segregation and gentrification are as much alive and well in “liberal” Northern and Western cities such as Chicago, Detroit and LA, (and, ahem, Seattle), as they are in Southern cities. It was amazing to see his his home and it’s history through this eyes. Similarly, my cabdriver coming into town pointed out things as we drove in. A pickup truck driver stopped us at a rural gas station en route to Selma to encourage us to take a back road to see some historic properties. Our server at a Selma restaurant told us of the local authors, the current preachers of Brown’s Chapel. People are inherently proud of their home, and they should be. I think sometimes we in the liberal pockets of the Northwest are just as prone to judgement as those on the other side of the political spectrum, or from a far off corner of the country. I admit I was nervous to come to Alabama. Because what has my echo chamber taught me about Alabama: enslavement, Jim Crow, GOP gerrymandering, restricted reproductive rights. It’s good for me to stretch some of those narrow snapshots, (which are of course a real part of history and present day), to see as much as I can of this place eyes wide open. After all, if I’ve digested the lessons of nonviolence that was preached by Civil Rights leaders, the point of nonviolence is to behold your “enemy” as a person, in the hopes that they may learn to see your own humanity. It’s a lesson my generation has not been taking notes on.
We arrived in Selma, tired but damn proud of ourselves. Coming into town over the bridge the sun was setting and a group of young people were marching to a spirited song over the Edmund Pettus Bridge.
SONG of the day: When Will We Be Paid (The Staple Singers)
MOVIE: Selma (*a bit of historical blurring, but captures they key people and moments of an amazing story)
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