“A Love That Forgives”

In June 1962, my family moved to Birmingham, Alabama. My father was called to pastor the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. As a 12-year-old, I felt excited from moving from my birthplace, Richmond, Virginia. to a new city and the opportunity to meet new friends and experience life in a new city. Little did I know that the move to Birmingham would literally change our lives forever.

My father got involved immediately upon our move with the Alabama Christian Human Rights Movement and was asked by their leadership if Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., could use the church as a place for civil rights meetings, which I did not realize until many years later. (more…)

Nobody dared her to do it

Nobody pressured her.  Nobody dared her to do it.  Her decision was hers to make.

On April 24, 1963, in a watershed moment in her life, Birmingham-Southern sophomore Martha “Marti” Turnipseed chose to join seven black students who were sitting in for justice at a segregated Woolworth’s food counter in downtown Birmingham.

Little did she know that Birmingham Police Commissioner Bull Conner had spying detectives everywhere.   (more…)

I became a stereotype

In 1963, I was a student and would-be journalist at Howard College (now Samford University), one of Birmingham’s whites-only institutions intent on ignoring and resisting the civil rights revolution outside their gates.  All that effort to shield us, and restrict us, and yet my memories of college years nonetheless are memories of Birmingham and civil rights.

I arrived at Howard with only a rudimentary sense of racial fairness.  (more…)

Growing up on Dynamite Hill

I grew up in the College Hills neighborhood (commonly known as “Dynamite Hill” for the rash of bombings in the 1950s and 60s). Attorney Arthur Shores lived three blocks from me on Center Street. Our home would shake every time a bomb exploded in the neighborhood. One night a window broke in our home. My friends and I would walk through the neighborhood the next day to see whose home was hit. My parents never discussed the bombings. I remember one Sunday a bomb was found outside the church on Center Street (Queen of the Universe). Two of my childhood friends were in Sixteenth Street Baptist Church when it was bombed (Dale & Ken). I remember my father, brother and I driving by the church a couple of weeks later and seeing the destruction, still vivid to me.

Weeping clandestinely at To Kill a Mockingbird

Brooke Hill seniors, on whom we all had crushes, chauffeured us downtown to the Melba Theater for a sneak preview of the movie – the official premiere was taking place the following night. At the beginning of the show, we nodded appreciatively when Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck) told his daughter, “Don’t say nigger, Scout,” and we recognized Calpurnia, the family maid, as a dead ringer for the fussy black women of our own kitchens. But soon our minds balked at the racial world of Scout’s South Alabama. For the first time, we came face-to-face with the central racial preoccupation of the southern white psyche, the dynamics that justified and ennobled Our Way of Live: the rape of a white woman by a black man. (more…)