Visiting the Legacy Museum, listening to Michele Browder and viewing her exhibit depicting the Mothers of Gynecology, and the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama has been a powerful, impactful, and sobering experience that confronts the deep-rooted legacy of racial injustice in America. The Legacy Museum stands on a site where enslaved people were once held and sold, offering a visceral look into the brutal history of slavery, racial terror, segregation, and mass incarceration. The museum doesn’t just present facts, it pulls you into the lived experiences of Black Americans through heart-wrenching narratives, historical documents, and haunting visuals. I was especially struck by the timeline connecting slavery to mass incarceration. It made me reflect not only on our nation’s history, but on how deeply these systems still affect our communities today. I left the museum heavy-hearted but grateful for the truths the museum tells many of the truths that too often goes untaught or unspoken.
We also spent time visiting the Mothers of Gynecology exhibit and speaking with the artist herself Ms. Michelle Browder. This exhibit and talking Ms. Browder touched me in a different but equally powerful way. The sculptures of Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey; the Black women who were experimented on without anesthesia in the name of “modern medicine”, left me filled with rage and reverence for what these young women were subjected to undergo in the name of medicine. Their torture built the foundation of women’s healthcare, yet their names are still largely unknown. That visit deepened my understanding of how Black women’s bodies have been used, ignored, and mistreated throughout history. I left the exhibit not only more informed, but more committed to lifting up the names and stories that history tries to erase.
Lastly, we visited the National Memorial for Peace and Justice which honors the thousands of Black men, women, and children who were lynched across the United States. As I walked among the suspended steel monuments each representing a county where these acts of racial violence occurred, I read the names of victims and the counties where these lynchings occurred. I found myself standing still for long moments, just trying to process the grief and injustice that each name represented. What stood out to me the most was the realization that these acts of terror weren’t isolated, that they were public, often celebrated, and used as tools to enforce white supremacy. I remember reading one plaque describing a man lynched for simply voting. Another for “standing around” in a white neighborhood. These weren’t crimes, they were attempts to live freely. I felt the memorial doesn’t just commemorate the dead, it asks each of us to confront how this legacy still echoes in our justice system, our schools, and our neighborhoods and to never forget, and to teach others not to forget either.