Imagine being a young Black man in the American South in 1960. Imagine moving in a world that freely practiced racial segregation, openly celebrated White supremacy, and routinely responded to the mere presence of African Americans with beatings and lynchings.
Terrifying? Intimidating? Absolutely. And hardly surprising, perhaps, that so many people--African Americans and others--felt forced to be as invisible as possible during that time.
But not John Lewis.
The son of Alabama sharecroppers, Lewis was inspired, as a teenager, by the words of another young man: Martin Luther King, Jr. King's belief in nonviolent protest as a means of challenging injustice resonated with Lewis, who was already seeking ways to respond to the poison of prejudice.
In the years that followed, Lewis would routinely challenge the racist laws and ways of the South. Whether it was sitting in at lunch counters that served only White customers; riding buses in direct violation of laws forbidding Whites and Blacks from sitting together on public transportation; founding a student movement--the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC)--dedicated to achieving racial justice; calling for equal rights in an inspired speech at the 1963 March on Washington; or taking part in a voting rights march from Selma, Alabama to Montgomery in 1965, Lewis frequently put his safety, even his life, on the line in the pursuit of racial justice.
Often he paid a heavy price for his activism. On more than a few occasions he was insulted, ridiculed, threatened, harassed, beaten, and arrested for his actions. As a freedom rider in the early sixties, he was attacked by a mob of White supremacists intent on silencing him and others who had challenged segregation practices. And during his participation in the march to Montgomery--now known as "Bloody Sunday"--he was beaten so badly by Alabama police that he required hospitalization.
Still, Lewis persevered. Committed to the philosophy of nonviolence, he and other civil rights activists refused to back down, calling America's (and the world's) attention to racial injustice and imploring the nation's leaders to take action. The civil rights legislation that followed in the sixties and beyond was the direct result of the idealism, commitment--and guts--of Lewis and others who were willing to risk everything for what was right.
In a sense, John Lewis, who'll speak at NCC this Monday (2 p.m., College Center), is fortunate. Having survived the tumultuous sixties, he's become a civil rights icon, a voice for equality for all, an author or co-author of several books (including MARCH, NCC's common reading for this year), and a respected member of the United States Congress, where he's served since the mid 1980's. Many of his fellow activists were not so fortunate, victims of the mindless hatred and violence that were part of the American South during that chaotic time.
Not everyone can be John Lewis, of course. Not everyone possesses the passion to devote one's life to righting wrongs and to risking everything for justice. So when we cross paths with someone who's repeatedly taken that brave stance, we need to stop and listen.
That's why, come this Monday, we ALL need to listen to John Lewis. It's not everyday we get the chance to meet somebody who's made history and who's changed the fabric of America. He may be older now, but his spirit and message remain as young and vital and inspirational as they were all those years ago.
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