Short Fiction Story of Selma 1965
Selma 1965
Hi! My name is Charlie-Lucille, and I am nineteen years old, living in Selma, Alabama. I am part of the Freedom Riders and the [1]SNCC. I traveled across America for people to have equal rights and for people to come together. I had been to a lot of riots for protesting. I had been to send jail, beaten on, and dragged by my hair by the police. The Bloody Sunday was the scariest day of my life. Today, I will tell you the experience I had marching in the Bloody Sunday in Selma, Alabama.
On a Sunday morning and I was going to church at the Brown Chapel A.M.E Church to hear Martin Luther King speak. He was preaching about how we should love our enemies. I hated my enemies, but I learned to love my enemies even though they treat me like an animal. I am happy that I was taught a lesson and how I react to handling situations differently. I learned a lot from Dr. King that day. He did a good job. After the choir had sung "I Fly Away" and Dr. King did the benediction, he had called the SNCC to the fellowship hall to have a quick meeting before we started the protest. Mr. Stokely Carmichael was telling everybody, especially, me not to argue or use violence because this is a non-violent protest. I was not trying to hear it, but I had to listen. Stokely Carmichael was our leader, so we had to listen and respect. We look up to him like he is our father. Stokely was telling us while we are marching, "if the police attack us, do not fight back, stand your ground and still fight without any violence." He said we are marching for Jimmy Lee Johnson's life and having our rights to vote and have equal rights. Stokely Carmichael was saying," "If you see your brother or sister fall, you shall protect him/her. We all march as one and fight as one. We all are a family; nobody is getting left behind, nobody!" We all said, "Yes, Sir," Mr. Carmichael told us to all rise and hold hands. He told me to say a prayer for God to lead us and protect us from all harm and danger. We all grabbed our signs and lined up straight. Mr. Carmichael had asked everybody ready, and we all said yes. Mr. Carmichael had said, "Remember what I had said," and said, "Charlie." I said, "Yes, Sir."
We started walking to meet up with John Lewis, SCLC, and Martin Luther King. We started to hold up our signs marching up to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, trying to get to Montgomery, Alabama. While we were walking to the bridge, Mrs. King had started to sing "We Shall Over Come." All of us started to sing with her. While I was singing, I turned around, and thousands of people walked behind us. I was happy that people came to fight even whites. Since we were getting closer and closer, I saw people turning back around. So, I was thinking in my head, "I wish they did not back down." I know people did not feel like getting hurt and fearing. It went from thousands back to six hundred people. I had understood we are risking our lives and fighting for our rights for everybody, not just blacks, but the next generation. I will fight for the people who back out of the march and the people in the march. I will fight for everybody. One reason I had started to get nervous and I started to freeze. I heard the voice of James Gardner, who is head of the Selma Police Department, telling us to turn around. Nobody was not going down for it, so we all just stood there in one place. Officer Gardner and the other officers had started pushing us, and people had started falling backward because of the police.
The next thing I knew, I saw horses, charging after us, smoking all in the air. My eyes had started burning. I could not even see because of the mace and smoke in the air. I was still running, trying to get somewhere safe I could not get far at all. I heard something cackling up the street in speed. I did not know what it was, and I felt a big bop on my back and fell right on my face in the ditch. I was in so much pain, and I became unconscious. All I heard was screaming, yelling, people running over me while the police and horses chase after people. I heard the police hitting people with clubs, followed by screaming. I wished I could get up and help, but my back was so badly bruised, so I started trying to get up. I felt blood coming out of my mouth. So I started limping and dragging. I still heard screaming and yelling, and I felt John Lewis behind me carrying me to safety. When the police and the horses stopped, it got quiet, and the air was starting to clear from the mace. I saw bodies laid everywhere unconscious, people covered in blood, people wiping their eyes because of the mace, people helping others up, and walking to the side of the road and the sidewalks. I saw whites, older adults, and young kids being beaten because of what we were fighting for.
All we wanted was justice for the right to vote, equal rights, and justice for Jimmy Johnson. I feel like one day, we will all come together, even if it takes us to have an African-American President to unite. It may happen in the next few years, maybe even in the next forty-three years, to bring us together as one. I knew I would fight for rights until the day that I die. When I have kids, I will tell them about what I have been through and how to treat others because it does not matter what race you are. We all bleed red. So I pray to God that people will have the heart to stop all the hatred and come together in harmony and peace one day. We all need to be treated right. Life is too short to be acting this way.
[1] http://www.blackpast.org/aah/bloody-sunday-selma-alabama-march-7-1965
