by Kayleigh Gaborek
Anguished,
Distressed,
Weeping,
“Gone! All gone! Why don’t God kill me?”
Frightened,
Confused,
Praying,
“Lord, how come me here? Thou wish, I never was born”
Wounded,
Wrapped,
Bleeding,
“I’m only 15 and fearing for my life”
Tired,
Determined,
Defying,
“Why do you push us around?”
Motivated,
Blessed,
Singing,
“We Shall Overcome”
Loved,
Comforted,
Uplifting,
“Black Lives Matter!”
(Quotes from first person testimonies at the Legacy Museum, Montgomery, AL)
As we toured the many museums and monuments, I always focused on the faces. The artists humanized those who were dehumanized while they were living. It is one thing to read about someone being devastated, but it is entirely different to see someone’s heartbroken face. To be told that someone was screaming out for their child versus seeing someone screaming. To know that someone acted defiantly versus to see the look of determination and the unwavering stance. I think that sometimes we can become numb to the stories, especially when we have heard a sanitized version or the same passive-tense statements over and over again. We know what happened. But to see people’s faces and read their words, it is more than just history. These were real people. Ordinary people like you and me who were put in unimaginably horrid situations. Ordinary people who saw and experienced injustice and rose to the occasion to galvanize the country. The work isn’t done. Unfortunately, there are still people throughout our country and world being crushed by various forms of oppression. Ordinary people like you and me who are denied access, opportunities, and basic necessities. Ordinary people who are crying out for their murdered children. Our times need ordinary people of every race, gender, and creed to stand up (or sit down) defiantly. To show on our faces the peace and love that should lead us all.