Fifty years ago, “The Freedom Riders” etched their place in
U.S. history. Their mission was to
challenge the Jim Crow laws of the South, in a nonviolent manner. On May 14th – Mother’s Day – their
nonviolent mission of equality was met by a high degree of violence when they
crossed the state line of Alabama. Members
of the Klu Klux Klan attacked and firebombed the Greyhound bus carrying these
Freedom Riders.
Now, I have flown from Chicago to Hawaii, experiencing the
Pacific Ocean from an aerial view. I’ve
tasted the salt of this same Pacific Ocean as I cruised its mighty waves from
Hawaii to Cali. In May of 1989, I
committed 3.5 days of my existence to Interstate 40. At the time, I thought navigating my Hyundai
Excel SE for the necessary 3,000 miles, to get from the Golden State of Cali to
the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, was a monumental feat. Well, it was definitely a memorable
experience, but far from the roads the Freedom Riders traveled. Feel me?
Between the scorching desert of Arizona and the lightning
storms of Oklahoma, there were several times I just wanted to trade my Hyundai
for a plane ticket to Philly. Without
question, this journey nearly got the best of me. I can only imagine how those Freedom Riders
felt when white southerners boarded their bus, grabbing the occupants, pulling
them out of their seats and beating them.
The assailants were the embodiment of the south, encapsulated by
racism. I’m sure at that point in time,
those black college students and their white supporters didn’t feel like their
nonviolent training was appropriate for this Freedom Ride. Na mean?
As the miles accumulated on my odometer, I occupied my
mental with introspection, my last 3 years in the U.S. Navy and my overall 21
years of existence. I was at the
drive-thru window of McDonalds in Arkansas when I came to the realization that
my journey across this country would make a difference in my life. Experiencing the highs and lows of this
extensive road trip would give me something I would need for the metaphorical
roads ahead of me. Death row is a
beginning, not an end. Ya heard?
I developed a strong sense of perseverance and endurance
during that road trip. But I can’t help but wonder: How free would my cross
country ride have been if the Freedom Riders hadn’t traveled these roads at
all? Holla if ya hear me.
Deuces,
MannofStat
Copyright © 2011 by Leroy Elwood Mann
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