As the first place to visit after my 25th birthday, I chose to visit The National Peace and Justice Memorial and the Legacy Museum in Montgomery, AL. I had recently seen Oprah discuss visiting the site, have family from Alabama, and went to college in the state. While the name sounds tranquil, the National Peace and Justice Museum confronts a very heavy subject matter- the history of lynching in America. As my friends and I got into the car that Saturday morning to drive to Montgomery, I was so excited to start another birthday challenge that the gravity what I was going to visit did not really hit me, but that soon changed.
Arriving at the National Peace and Justice Memorial, we bought tickets to visit this site as well as the Legacy Museum. As we walked into the memorial, we encountered a winding pathway that lead up to a larger area of numerous slates, each representing a county within a state and containing the dates of every known lynching that occurred in that area. The name of the individual (or Unknown for those who could not be identified) was also listed by the dates. It seemed that the slates went on forever. On many of the slates, we saw individuals who shared last names, implying that they were families who had been lynched together. They also had narratives for why people were lynched, such as “irritating a white woman” or “complaining about the previous lynching of her husband.” To read such atrocities, one after another, was truly nerve wrecking. I was able to read narratives that occurred in places that I frequent today and see the names of the known individuals lynched in the places that I have considered home. I found myself wondering if I would see a name that sounded familiar, wondering if those people had known someone that would lead to my creation. It is one thing to be aware that these things occurred, but it is another to put the name of a person to an event. It makes it more real. Lynchings were occurring into the 1930s. We are not that far removed.
People always say what they would have done if they were living in these times, but looking at the names of these individuals truly made me wonder, would any of us have been or done any different from the actions of our ancestors? We can never truly know. After walking through the memorial and taking in the names mostly in silence, we decided to catch the bus over to the Legacy Museum in downtown Montgomery, which highlights the history of slavery (particular in Montgomery) and how it has shaped America, lynchings, the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and the current impacts of the prison system on Black communities.
Arriving at the museum, they quickly informed us that we could not take pictures inside. The site of the museum is in a building that was previously used as a warehouse to keep slaves. Standing in the windowless building made of what looked to be cement/stone, I could not imagine existing in this space knowing that I was not there by choice and would only leave by the decision of another to go to some foreign place to exist against my will, being viewed as property the whole time.
In the museum, they had a timeline documenting the shift from slavery to mass incarceration. I spent a while looking at the section about the super-predator mindset and phenomenon of the 90s. During the last few years as an adult, I heard it being referenced as a period in politics. However, it was in the museum that it hit me that this time of referencing Black kids and children of color as “super predators” was the time of my childhood. The kids they were referring to were my friends, my peers, my brother. It hurt. Everything in that museum hurt. I had been aware of mass incarceration and the school-to-prison pipeline phenomena about which was on display in the museum, but it was something about seeing it all together coupled with being in that building that hit me in a different way. My friends and I walked through the museum in a sort of somber silence. Taking it all in. Thinking back, I do not remember too much noise coming from any of the many visitors present. I think that history was hitting us all and hitting us hard. Black. White. Whoever. We were all being confronted by the past and the impacts in the present.
Leaving the museum and getting back to our car to head home, we all felt heavy; but I was grateful to have gone and processed with friends. While this experience was difficult, my mind works in a way that seeks purpose in every experience. (I am always trying to make sense of things.) In my heart, I was grateful for the memorial even though it was hard to experience. It brought remembrance to those who would not be remembered otherwise. In a way, it gave peace and rest to their memories. For me, it reminded me of those who have come before me. While I may face my own adversities in life, they are different than the adversities of yesterday. It was a testament to these individuals to say that they were here. They existed. They mattered. They were people. They were someone’s loved ones, parents, friends, grandparents, ancestors. I cannot imagine that the people in their lives expected them to leave this world in the way that they did. However, it made me want to honor their memories by loving the people in my life more deeply and letting them know that they are valued while they are present since we do not know what is coming the next day. My heart ached for the names there and loving those in my life was all I could think to do in that moment to honor their memories.
How do you process through moments of difficult truths?
How do you honor the memories and history of your loved ones?
What special memories do you have of your loved ones?
