Marching for Freedom

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Daryl Grabarek, Curriculum Connections -- School Library Journal, 10/20/2009

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Listen to Elizabeth Partridge introduce and read an excerpt from Marching for Freedom

In 1963, in many towns and cities across the South, it was nearly impossible for African-American citizens to register to vote. Despite the efforts of voter’s leagues and political activists, men and women encountered registrars with limited office hours, doors posting “Out to Lunch” signs, exams, requests for vouchers attesting to their personal conduct, and sometimes, arrest.

Selma, AL, was one of those places and in Marching for Freedom: Walk Together, Children, and Don’t You Grow Weary (Viking, Oct. 2009; Gr 6 Up) Elizabeth Partridge explores the role played by the young civil rights demonstrators in that city. Through moving text, stirring quotes, and archival photos the author documents their bravery and the violence they witnessed and endured. Read a brief excerpt from her book.

VOTELESS, 1963

"The first time Joanne Blackmon was arrested, she was just ten years old. After breakfast one morning, she and her grandmother, Sylvia Johnson, left their apartment in the Carver Homes in Selma, Alabama. Mrs. Johnson walked purposefully down Sylvan Street, turning onto Alabama Street for the six short blocks to the downtown shopping area. Mrs. Johnson intended to register to vote. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to. It was almost impossible for blacks to register. But she wanted to show the white authorities that she, like all Americans, deserved the right to vote.

At the corner of Lauderdale Street they came to the imposing Dallas County Courthouse. Just as they reached the top of the green marble steps, a white lady inside rushed to the glass door and slapped up a sign, CLOSED FOR LUNCH. She threw the lock shut, then stood glaring at them from the other side of the glass.

Joanne's first reaction was surprise: she didn't know white people ate lunch so early. But Mrs. Johnson understood immediately what the sign and the woman meant. They weren't welcome.

They didn't head back home, though. The courthouse allowed voter registration only two days a month, and Mrs. Johnson wasn't about to give up so easily. As they stood quietly outside the courthouse they were joined by other applicants, dressed in their Sunday best.

Hours crept slowly by. More people arrived, but the sign didn't come down. No one left the line to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. Finally, two yellow school buses rumbled up, and the sheriff and his deputies ordered everyone on. Joanne was happy to climb up the deep stairs into the bus. Only white kids got to ride the school bus. She'd never been inside one. It wasn't until they pulled up in front of the city jail that she realized: they were all under arrest.

Over the next two years, Joanne would be jailed ten more times. Her sister Lynda, three years older, would be jailed nine times. They were just two of the hundreds of kids in Selma who met and sang and marched and were jailed over and over again in the struggle for a federal law ensuring every American the right to vote."

Reprinted with permission from Viking Press.