Yesterday we explored Selma. We stopped by a black church and a confederate cemetery. The cemetery was sinister because it was so well-kept even to this day. The streets of Selma were mostly deserted and, leaving the cemetery, I felt a real sense of despair.
But when we approached the Edmund Pettus Bridge, getting ready to cross, we saw a woman sitting at a table covered in pamphlets.
We didn’t know whis she was and we had no idea she was going to be there, but she spoke to us and led us across the bridge. She taught us a song as well, and sang with us.
It was like she was standing against the wave of hatred coming from that confederate cemetery. She had set up her table on MLK jr day in the frigid cold just waiting to speak with anyone who might want to cross the bridge. She was very inspiring. I think her name was Queenie Jackson.
Bella
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