She was tired, and it had been a frustrating day, and she just wanted to go home. So, she took a seat on the bus. But before she could relax, the bus driver angrily told her to get up and give her seat to someone else. It was 1955, in Montgomery, Alabama, and the bus lines, like much of America, were segregated. She was Black, and sitting in a seat that a White person wanted. But she was tired and upset and something inside her told her not to comply. So, she didn't. She knew the consequences, but she refused anyway. And she was forcibly removed from the bus and arrested. And her name was... Claudette Austin, later Claudette Colvin. She was only fifteen, and a high school student. Her name is on the 1956 lawsuit that ultimately ended segregation on the bus lines. But it was the name of Rosa Parks that would be remembered. Claudette's name was not. When Claudette died the other day at age 86, few people had ever heard of her.
That's unfortunate, because the Civil Rights Movement did not begin with the amazing act of one person, nor was it some accident that came out of nowhere (contrary to the way Rosa Parks is often described as an "older woman" and a "seamstress," she had a long history with the NAACP and with the fight for civil rights in the south). And writing Claudette out of the story was a choice: the leaders of the movement worried that she'd be perceived as a "mouthy teenager" and not taken seriously; she was also pregnant, and in a time when being pregnant outside of marriage was frowned upon, the decision was made to select someone who would be less threatening and a more sympathetic figure. And yet, it was Claudette's courageous act of resistance that was an important part of ending segregation on Montgomery's busses.
What brought this to mind is the upcoming celebration of Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday. We are living in a time when some politicians, including our president, would prefer that Dr. King's life not be celebrated. Worse yet, there are schools in numerous red states where even a mention of race (or racism) is now forbidden. And for those who say I am exaggerating, there are colleges that are now eliminating entire courses, rather than violate new policies, which are often driven by politics, rather than by an interest in learning. As a professor, I find this problematic. I fail to see the harm in exposing students to a wide range of perspectives, and I fail to see why teaching kids about the fight for civil rights is controversial.
In fact, I'd like to see not just Dr. King's life remembered but the lives of others who laid the groundwork, or helped to make the civil rights movement a success-- for example, the historian Carter G. Woodson, who proposed what we today know as Black History Month. Back in 1926, he set aside a week each February when the accomplishments of Black people could be studied and remembered. He said this was important because, "If a race has no history, if it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated." And by preventing students from learning about Dr. King, or about Dr. Woodson, or about numerous others who helped to end segregation in America, we not only do them a disservice-- but we contribute to their being erased.
And maybe that's the point? It certainly seems that some folks today prefer the way things used to be. They want us to return to a time when people who look like them had absolute power and nobody could challenge their authority without facing severe consequences. They want to banish anyone from the "wrong" color or the "wrong" religion or the "wrong" political beliefs. They want to silence anyone who dares to complain. They want a country where everyone knows their place. And they want us to forget the people who said "no, I don't want America to be like that." That's why it's a good idea to celebrate Dr. King's life: to remember him, and all the others who worked so hard to made the country a better place. And it's a good reminder, especially in times like these, that even small acts of courage can eventually lead to big results. Rest in peace, Claudette Colvin. And thank you.