Witnessing the Boicott

Dec 1, 1955

Growing up, I never really understood why the white people were considered more valuable than my people were. I never really understood why we had segregated schools, hospitals, busses and so on. To be completely honest, I don’t really understand it now either. I guess after a while I settled with my situation being what it was. There wasn’t really anything I could do, I thought. It seemed hopeless, and all the ongoing protests and demonstrations only led to more misery in my opinion. I wished I could contribute though, I really did. However, I simply wasn’t brave enough to put so much at risk for something that seemed so hopeless. At least not until I met Ms. Park.

The bus was always crowded in the afternoon, even more so in the wintertime. I took a deep breath before entering the back door of the bus, the one reserved for people of color. I sat down in my regular seat, next to the window. It was the first day of the last month of the year, the end of 1955. The drive through Montgomery was always my favorite part about the day. There was something so peaceful about seeing the city I grew up in from a distance. A new addition to the bus ride was all the posters and banners that had been hanging on various buildings all over town for the past couple of months, demanding equality. After the U.S Supreme Court ruled that “separated schools are not equal” last year, there had been a growing unease among the colored population of Montgomery, Alabama. Most of the demonstrations ended quite violently, and didn’t really accomplish much. I had been following the protests through the newspaper, silently rooting for the brave protestors. Rooting for equality.

The bus kept on getting more and more crowded. After a few stops, all the seats in both sections were occupied. The bus driver walked towards our section closely followed by four white passengers, while looking at us with disgust.

“I’m gonna have to ask the four of you sitting on the front row to give up your seats” he muttered in a monotone voice. The bus driver was known for being racist, and had intentionally kept Negro passengers from getting onto his bus several times. Three of the four people in the front gave up their seats without a word. But then there was the fourth, a woman who refused to move an inch. She ignored the bus driver and held a firm look at the front of the bus. The bus driver repeated himself, but the woman just gave him a disapproving look. The bus fell dead silent. I silently cheered for the woman, hoping she was brave enough to stand her ground. Hoping that her silent protest would make a difference.

The bus driver called the police after a while, and the woman still did not move. I admired her, and wished I could do more to help. I felt like a real coward. When the police showed up, she was treated very badly. They called her offensive names, and treated her like a big threat. I was so angry. All of the fury I had been burying for years came to the surface, and I was furious. This was so unfair. All the names the white kids used to call us whilst growing up came to my mind. Was this really how I wanted my children to grow up? To have them know that no matter how hard they work, or how smart they are, they will always be outcompeted by the privileged white kids because of the color of their skin. ? It was so incredibly unfair. I knew I could not continue to settle for everything like I had done up until now, I knew something had to change.

After that day, I didn’t ride the bus for 13 months straight. Neither did the other people participating in the boycott. The encounter with Rosa Parks had changed my understanding of what the segregation would meant, not only for me, but also for my family and everyone I cared about. I understood it now; I understood why the white people were seen as more valuable than we were. They were simply scared of us, of everything we could accomplish if we stood together to fight injustice. Rosa Parks became the missing piece for the protestors, a voice, someone to look up to. Her silent protest ended in the big Montgomery Bus Boycott, and became my own personal symbol of how one single person can make a huge difference.

Sources:

• “History”, “Montgomery bus boycott, http://www.history.com/topics/black-history/montgomery-bus-boycott , retrieved 10.11.2015

• “Stanford”, Montgomery Bus Boycott (1955-1956), 2007, http://kingencyclopedia.stanford.edu/encyclopedia/encyclopedia/enc_montgomery_bus_boycott_1955_1956/ , retrieved 10.11.2015

• “Government of Alabama”, timeline, http://www.archives.alabama.gov/timeline/al1951.html , retrieved 10.11.2015

• http://www.bet.com/news/national/photos/2013/08/20-iconic-milestones-in-the-fight-for-civil-rights/_jcr_content/leftcol/flipbook/flipbookimage_12.flipfeature.dimg/072913-national-rosa-parks-bus.jpg , retrieved 10.11.2015

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