Selma or Else

Hi, my name is Selma. I am a 20 year old young Black female who has joined the associates of Dr. Martin Luther King in their march from Selma, Alabama to Montgomery, Alabama. It’s funny isn’t it, I’m marching to a place that I was named after to take part in a protest that is dedicated to helping people like me. We as African Americans have only been free for barely a century and yet we are still just as oppressed as when they first brought us here in chains. Dr. Martin Luther King and his wife Coretta are two leaders in our community who have been at the forefront of our fight for freedom, justice, and equality.

So what exactly is happening? you might ask. Why are hundreds of people joining Dr. King’s cohorts in this long walk from Selma to Montgomery? Because Black American’s right to vote has been suppressed since we were brought here. It’s just another example of the inhumanity we face as Black people. Of course we are human, but we don’t get treated as humans, we are treated as less than. Dr. King has been one of many freedom fighters who has been working day and night to assure that we get the equality and proper treatment that we deserve. He’s also not one of these fast talkers who is just out here looking for support. He always backs up his words with actions.

The activity of Dr. King has been so captivating that his movements have been joined by just as many Whites as well as Blacks. This actually touched my heart. Growing up where I came from I never met too many White people who were friendly to colored folks and even the ones who were didn’t seem to care enough to join our struggle for freedom, justice and equality. While doing my part in fighting for my equality as an African American I have met many of these Whites. Whenever I asked them why do they care so much for a struggle that is not their own they all gave similar responses. They felt that our struggle was their struggle because we are all human and until all of humanity is equal, then all of humanity is in captivity.

These people have given up a lot to be here and have faced a lot of persecution for dedicating themselves to our cause. They have changed my heart. These people have also put their lives on the line. Ever since we began these protest we have seen a lot of push back and threats of violence by those who want to ensure that our inequality remains intact. Make no mistake, our lives are in danger and we may be hurt on this journey, but it’s a risk we are willing to take for a war that is certainly worth fighting. We’re not just fighting for ourselves, we’re fighting for our children and the future of our race.

Led by John Lewis and reverend Hosea Williams, we have now arrived at the Edmund Pettus Bridge. There is an army of state troopers waiting for us along with what looks like many of the angry townspeople. We know why they’re here. They’re here to stop our protest. Reverend Williams walks up to one of the troopers to try to talk things out, but it’s clear that there’s nothing from us that he wants to hear. The officer in command of the army of counter protesters stood with a bullhorn yelling at all of us to stand down and move along, but we just continued to stand hand in hand with our arms locked. Blacks, Whites, Americans, humans. We are in this together.

As we continue to move forward the troopers continue shouting at us with the townsfolk joining in with anger. Suddenly a round of teargas was shot our way, joined by multiple rounds of teargas right after. Then came the moment that made my heart drop as we all tensed up. The troopers and townsfolk started charging towards us with their batons and guns. We are unarmed protesters. So if they use force against us we have nothing credible to defend ourselves with. The first thing I see is one of the troopers forcefully hit John and Reverend Williams in the face with their batons. Then they start attacking all the protesters and it becomes all out war. One of the men grabs me by the arm and hits me in the stomach, which brings me to my knees as I gasp for air.

As I fall to the ground trying to catch my breath one of the anti-protesters stands over me and shouts “AIN’T NO N*GGER EVER GONNA VOTE IN THIS STATE”. As he prepares to strike me in the head he is suddenly tackled and knocked off balance by one of the White male protesters who I was holding hands with. I use all my might to finally rise to my feet and I see one of the protesters getting kicked and beaten by the troopers with batons. I run over and grab one of troopers by the helmet and pull him off of the man, but the trooper then strikes me in the head with his baton and I fall to the ground.

While I’m laying on the ground with a bloody wound to the head I am dizzy and disoriented, slowly losing consciousness. I’m looking at what’s happening around me and all I see is chaos. People being hit while screaming and dropping to the ground next to me. Yet, I am still determined to get up and help my fallen brethren. As I get up I see a couple of protesters being beaten by a group of troopers and angry townsfolk. Without a second thought I dizzily start charging toward the group to help my brothers. I’m staggering and struggling not to fall over, but I won’t give up on helping my brethren, just like they haven’t given up on helping me. One of the counter protesters sees me coming and quickly warns one of his fellow counter protesters who has his back to me. At the sound of “LOOK OUT!!!” The man with his back to me turns around with a gun aimed at me and shoots me in the stomach.

When the bullet of the gun struck me the world around me went silent. I couldn’t hear anything but I could still see the surrounding destruction. I slowly fell back on the ground behind me, but I couldn’t feel any pain, even from the wound of the gunshot. As I lay dying I look around me and I see more dead bodies and now I understand better. I’m dying, but the road to freedom, justice and equality is measured in death and destruction, mine and countless others. It’s heartbreaking that things have to be this way, but this is what had to happen. With my dying breath I realize that this is what it was…Selma…or else.

~~Dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King, Coretta Scott King and everyone else who gave their lives and fought from freedom, justice and equality.