Cycle of History : Day 9 (4/3/23): French Camp to Houston

Laura’s Post. Biked 55 miles.

Caffeinate. Meditate. Defecate. Consolidate. Evacuate (aka: roll out).

We’re in our rhythm now. Third day traveling consecutively along the remote and scenic Trace Natchez Parkway. Rising in a new place each day, the adventure of planning the food stops, combing over the route maps over morning coffee. The thunder was so loud early this morning it shook the corrugated metals walls of our cabin and for a moment I thought a tornado was upon us. We talked to our waitress today at the Trace-Way diner, who experienced the F4 tornado personally 2 weeks ago, a tornado which absolutely obliterated 2 towns in this part of Mississippi. She described lying in her bed with “a freight train” rolling over her trailer, with no where to hide as she lay there and prepared to die, “I said God if you’re going to take me now, I’m ready.” The Midwest and the South are experiencing an unprecedented tornado season. She took good care of us at the diner though, we stayed for almost 2 happy hours sipping coffee and mixing it up with a very local scene.

One happy guy in his kind of place

Mississippi, we’re about to leave you. In another era people said the eyes of the world were watching Mississippi. And it’s true, this state was the crux of the Civil Rights movement. In many ways the resistance to Black freedom was so fierce, it’s “Citizen’s Councils” (think Gestapo for US Southern White Supremacy) were so relentless, that it seemed even the Federal Government couldn’t pierce that shield. Nina Simone sang in 1964, “Mississippi God Damn.” There’s also Phil Ochs’ “Here’s to Mississippi” and Dylan’s “Oxford Town.” (Let me also call out the incredible musicians who originated from this state including Muddy Waters, BB King, Robert Johnson, Elvis Presley! Sam Cooke, whose song “A Change is Gonna Come” moves me deeply).

In some ways what we call the modern Civil Rights movement all started here. Although many credit the disparities that were brought into the light when Black service members fought in integrated WWII units and then returned to a deeply segregated South as laying important groundwork, the world was shocked by the 1955 kidnapping, torture and eventual death of Emmett Till, all because he whistled at a White store owners’ wife. I can’t tell you how many of the leaders of this era reference the shock of this loss as motivation for them to take a stand. His mother, Mamie Till-Mobley forced the world to see what had been done to her son by having an open casket showing his mutilated body, images of which made it into Jet Magazine and circulated the nation. His death triggered a chain reaction that in many ways hastened the passage of the 1957 and 1964 Civil Rights legislation and in even now in 2022, the passage of a bill making lynching a federal crime. Emmett Till’s name is still invoked today.

A decade after his death, in 1964, groups of White and Black students banded together to do mass voter registration in rural Mississippi. Black voter registration was as low as 1% in the beginning of the Civil Rights movement in this state, despite having some counties where 60-70% of the population was Black. At the beginning of this “Freedom Summer” (1964), 3 of these freedom fighters were murdered for investigating a fire at a church where one of these Freedom Schools was to be held. James Chaney was one of those who died. His friend Dave Denis gave his eulogy. He tried to give the mild-mannered eulogy that as expected of him, but upon seeing Chaney’s younger brother Ben crying in the front row, he lost it and made a passionate call for action that resonated throughout the community.

I think the world is still watching Mississippi. In one of the Blackest cities in America, the White Supermajority in the Legislature is currently working to take away Jackson’s power to control its own legal system. This is happening NOW, in 2023. Will Mississippi continue to fight off the legacy of Jim Crow, or will it institute a whole modern version of it? The sentiments of grief, anger and weariness of Dave Denis’ euology are still heard in our news on a near daily basis in reaction to the ongoing disproportionate violent deaths of Black citizens.

I hope for Mississippi. Today I am also filled with gratitude. Gratitude for the beautiful place, for these resilient people. For a body that can carry me through it to witness some stories first hand and to pay homage to many sites of this struggle, past and present. Gratitude for that spunky old guy who I’m traveling with, with his most innovative bike-mounting maneuver. I am overwhelmed by joy today.