FacingRacismLR

We kept our heads high and raised our voices up toward the embankment with choruses of civil rights songs
to the sporadic drumbeats of rocks clattering down around us. When I’d seen the robes, I’d braced for violence.
That was part of the story, this idea of people marching for peace and being attacked. Of course, I had this naïve
optimism that it was simply a part of our past history, and that it could not still happen today. But there I was,
looking up, thinking “Hate still lives here today.” There I was, looking up at not just men, not just men and their
wives, but at their children. And the children shouted things no child should ever shout or even know. These
young children were not born with this hate.
Then, I understood. This is how hate survives. This is how hatred is learned and taught. This was part of their
learning experience, their indoctrination.
From where I marched, I didn’t see everything that happened that morning. I didn’t see Jesse Jackson, or
Coretta Scott King, or Hosea Williams or many other Civil Rights leaders. I also didn’t see David Duke, once
Grand Wizard of the KKK. But they were all there that morning. It was even covered by a new talk show host
that we watched when we got home – Oprah Winfrey!
Eventually, the protests died down. MLK Day became a national holiday. But 30 years later, as I travel back to
Atlanta and reflect on this landmark event, it seems we may never stop working to root out racism and hatred.
For me, it was a single day, but I gained a lasting impression of how, for others, the sense of vulnerability and
fear of those on the high ground is daily life.
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