The Lion's Pride Volume 10 (Spring 2018) | Page 16

Bus Ride.” These were just a few of many that littered the newspapers.
Soon enough, months passed by and during the boycott, titles such as,
“Montgomery Buses Told to End Bias; Negroes Plan Test,” and “Negro
Groups Ready Boycott” took over the headlines. It was a time of turmoil
and the fate of blacks was on edge. Would we see a stop to prejudice or
was this simply the fate our generations had to face? The boycotts were
underway yet the segregation continued. We were animals, we were
inferior, we were worthless, and only God seemed to notice the injustice
man had concocted.
One day I woke up and went about my Sunday morning preparing to
leave for church with my husband, Raymond. I put on my slippers and
headed to the bathroom to soak up a washcloth. The warmth felt good
against my face. I looked in the mirror and observed my reflection.
Wrinkles and white hair now made up some of my features. I was no
longer forty-one and it was no longer December of 1955. We walked the
few blocks to the church and the signs that read, “Whites only” and
“Blacks only” were no longer in sight. Children, both white, black and
other ethnicities, rode their bikes to the nearest ice cream shop, laughing
and racing along the curb of the road. As Raymond and I walked to
church, I observed them, remembering the violence that was common on
the streets of Alabama during the 50’s and 60’s. Had these children lived
during that time they’d be mocking one another instead of exchanging
friendly conversation. I felt a pressure flow out of my body as I realized