Day 49: John Lewis and Amelia Boynton (Or, Bridge Over Troubled Water)
Why the 60th Anniversary of Selma’s Bloody Sunday is a Cause for Courage.
Today, instead of a letter from me, I wanted to share one from someone else. I’ve long been a fan of Pastor John Pavlovitz. In fact, in my last letter, I included a quote from his book, A Bigger Table – “I still do believe in the bigger table, but it’s more difficult than ever to keep that faith, probably because the resistance to it is so great. We have to be the resistance to that resistance.”
As much as anyone I know, John is doing his best to speak the truths we so desperately need to hear during this time, while still holding fast to his humanity and hoping others will show themselves at their best. That’s a tough needle to thread. In the most recent edition of his Damn-giver Dispatch – “News for people who give a damn”, he had this to say:
A reader told me I’ve become too negative lately: that she misses the optimistic, hopeful version of me that she got to know during Kamala Harris’ 2024 presidential campaign.
“I miss that version of me, too.” I assured her.
I then asked her a question: “So, do you want me to be optimistic or honest?”
I wasn’t being facetious or sarcastic.
I know that she (like myself and every other sentient human being with working empathy) has completely had it with the catastrophic, the unprecedented, the terrifying. She (like all of us), is stumbling around, both hope and sleep-deprived. But the alternative is to deny the nightmare reality, avoid the afflictive emotions, and wait for a rescue that simply ain’t comin.’
And that’s the rub here: the only way we’re going to persevere is by not sedating ourselves in denial and distracting ourselves.
Contrary to the opinion of some, I really hate being the bearer of bad news, but anyone thinking we “just have to get through the next four years” isn’t paying attention.
We are already long-past the point of any conventional remedies to this fascist takeover. November 5th, 2024 was the closing of that window.
The checks and balances are gone, the Republican Party is unsalvageable, the courts will not permanently sustain us, and no election rescue is possible.
The old rules of engagement are no longer relevant, which is why outside of a few leaders, the Democratic Party is falling to the occasion right now.
Whether we survive or not as a nation is going to depend solely on whether or not We The People are willing to do what we’ve never had to do in this nation: stand together and oppose our own Government.
And this does not necessarily mean violence, but it will likely mean exposing ourselves to violence directed by those in power, pushback from our neighbors, rejection from our families—but believe me, those we stand with and for are worth it.
What Dr. King and those of his generation did to bend the moral arc of the universe toward 60 years ago, we are now entrusted with continuing, and if we fail, that work too will prove not to have prevented democracy’s demise but postponed it.
I don’t share this to scare or depress you but to empower you. You have enough information and resources right now.
No one is going to hold our hands or save us: no party, no court, no personality. Use your personal, financial, and relational resources and do something, TODAY.
If tens of millions of people move in the small and close of where they are, We might be astounded at how much collective power we have.
Be encouraged.
John
There are so many points of resonance for me with John in this brief reflection – everything from his realization that no rescue is coming to the fact that the window for stopping what’s happening to us closed with the outcome of the last election, to how we, the people must be “willing to do what we’ve never had to do in this nation: stand together and oppose our own Government”.
He describes how, what Martin and so many others, including those who suffered through the Selma march’s Bloody Sunday, which occurred 60 years ago today, despite what it cost them, only bought democracy time. But, those set on opposing democracy have chipped away at it for 60 years, leading us to this point where their own shrinking demographics make this a now-or-never moment for them.
They’ve secured power that far exceeds their size, just as they’re on the threshold of becoming so numerically small that if they relinquish that power, they’ll never be able to win again. Which is why things are so dire, and why, as John says, “Anyone thinking we “just have to get through the next four years” isn’t paying attention.” As I described in my last letter, Don’t Dream It’s Over, the orchestrators of this takeover came to this presidency fully aware that this was their Normandy, their “now or never”, their Edmund Pettus Bridge.
I’ve covered the Selma events extensively in previous letters, so I won’t re-tell that entire story today. However, in commemoration of both Selma and Bloody Sunday, which occurred 60 years ago today, I wanted to at least share a few relevant excerpts from other times we’ve touched on this pivotal moment in history:
Election Reflections #1: Stayed on Freedom - Sure, the circumstances we're facing today feel insurmountable. But that's exactly how the Freedom Riders felt when they were trapped on a burning bus or how the Selma marchers felt when confronted by armed, deputized KKK members on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Back then, they didn't have the numbers we have or people in office we do. All they had was their spirits. It was enough then. We have so much more now.
Election Reflections #2: The Way It Is? - They’ll tell you that all has been set right, that they’ve finally “taken America back” (or, as Alabama State Senator Sam Engelhardt put it, “Have no fear, the Right and the White will win”) and that they’re the Great and Powerful Oz. But they’re not. They’re a shrinking minority, the men behind the curtain turning dials and speaking into microphones. But the curtain can’t keep them hidden. As Martin said, on the steps of the Alabama state capitol after the Selma to Montgomery march and after all it took for them to get there, “No lie can live forever.”
Election Reflections #6: We Americans - Pete Seeger, in a live group singing of We Shall Overcome, said: And the most important verse is the one they wrote down in Montgomery, Alabama. They said, “We are not afraid.” The young people there taught everybody else a lesson. All the older people that had learned how to compromise and learned how to take it easy and be polite and get along and leave things as they were, those young people taught us all a lesson. They stood and sang, “We are not afraid, we are not afraid, we are not afraid today. Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall overcome someday.”
He was speaking of the Selma to Montgomery march and the high school and college students in Montgomery who refused to run from Alabama State Troopers charging toward them on horseback, threatening to trample them. They stood their ground, arms linked, singing, “We are not afraid.” They overcame. We can too.
Day 30 – Don’t Dream It’s Over - And suddenly, all hell broke loose in Selma – everything from the murders of James Reeb, Jonathan Daniels and Viola Liuzzo, to the images of a concussed and bleeding John Lewis and Amelia Boynton, beaten unconscious, lying in the middle of a tear-gassed Edmund Pettus Bridge. Still, Americans of every ancestry and faith, men and women, young and old, straight and gay, kept coming, descending on Selma. By the time they entered Montgomery, they were 10,000 strong – the same size as the so-called Jericho Marchers who assaulted the Capitol on Insurrection Day.
There’s also no doubt that the Selma activists and all who stood by them won. The 1965 Voting Rights Act was passed, exactly 60 years ago, because of them, as well as a slew of other advances. But, the defenders of a “for some” America weren’t done. Nixon’s 1968 win, after Bobby’s and Martin’s deaths and LBJ’s decision to not run again, breathed new life into their bones. They saw how it was possible to change tactics while keeping their goal intact. Their strategy was simple; take their vices, repackage them, and sell them back to the American public as virtues. But, the only way they win is by convincing us they’ve won already.
Election Reflections #11: One More Bridge to Cross - Like so much of this segment of history, we’ve allowed the Selma march to be mythologized, treated like it’s a nice fairy tale or something that happened “back in the old days.” That’s made it easy for us to forget what it was really like and what it cost. But there are millions of people alive today who lived it. They remember, with startling clarity, what that America was like. We need them to remind us so we’ll do whatever it takes to never be that America again.
Both what John Lewis, Amelia Boynton and so many others walked through 60 years ago and what John Pavlovitz is speaking to today are part of the same story — the story of the nation we’ll grow up to be. The story you and I get to help write. And because of those who came before us, who plowed the rough ground, faced unimaginable odds and crossed waters they didn’t trouble, we’re a nation that still has a chance. The flame of freedom still burns.
Which gets me to today. I know things feel dire right now, and they are. But, the thing we mustn’t forget is that those before us overcame. Before the Voting Rights Act, despite being minorities in a hostile culture, and even with their own government assaulting them, they overcame. And because they overcame, because of the burden they bore and the price they paid, so can we.
They started the work of finally forming us into a true democracy. It falls to us, right here and now, over these next four years, to be the finishers of that work. And because of them, because of people like Congressman John Lewis and Amelia Boynton Robinson, Bloody Sunday is a cause for courage.
Today marks Day 49 of the fight to make us into a society that works for all of us. There are 1,336 days between today and the 2028 presidential election, and 1,411 days until Martin’s 100th birthday. So, when do we fight? Today, tomorrow, and every day between now and then. Where do we fight? Anywhere and everywhere we see injustice occurring or oppression increasing. And, how do we fight? In every way we can.
The closing song I have for you today is, no doubt, a familiar one. It’s been covered by everyone from Buck Owens to the Queen of Soul herself, but my favorite version is the Simon and Garfunkel original. The hallowed reverence of Art’s vocals with Paul’s lyrics feels like it was written for the Edmund Pettus Bridge and the troubled waters of racism it spanned.
When you're weary, feeling small, when tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all.
I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough, and friends just can't be found.
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down,
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.
When you're down and out, when you're on the street, when evening falls so hard, I will comfort you. I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes, and pain is all around.
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down,
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.
Sail on, silver girl, sail on by, your time has come to shine; all your dreams are on their way. See how they shine! Oh, if you need a friend, I'm sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind,
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind.