The lynching death of a 14-year-old black boy in Mississippi awakened the country to the horrors of racism
To carry out their nonviolent revolution, Lewis and an army of young activists launch a series of innovative campaigns, including the Freedom Vote, Mississippi Freedom Summer, and an all-out battle for the soul of the Democratic Party waged live on national television.
After the success of the Nashville sit-in campaign, John Lewis is more committed than ever to changing the world through nonviolence — but as he and his fellow Freedom Riders board a bus into the vicious heart of the deep south, they will be tested like never before.
March is a vivid first-hand account of John Lewis' lifelong struggle for civil and human rights, meditating in the modern age on the distance traveled since the days of Jim Crow and segregation. Rooted in Lewis' personal story, it also reflects on the highs and lows of the broader civil rights movement.
I don’t have to agree with every element of the Movement For Black Lives’ platform to advocate loudly and wholeheartedly for racial justice, any more than, fifty years ago, I would have had to agree with Martin Luther King, Stokely Carmichael, and Elijah Muhammad to support full citizenship for black Americans. Discussion and dissent have always been an essential part of social change.
In my own life and in my rabbinate, I often draw on the story of journey from Egypt to the land of Israel. But usually it is a metaphor. This past week, it became much more tangible, literally embodied.
Julian Bond, a charismatic figure of the 1960s civil rights movement, a lightning rod of the anti-Vietnam War campaign and a lifelong champion of equal rights, notably as chairman of the N.A.A.C.P., died on Saturday night in Fort Walton Beach, Fla.
Black history matters. Why? Because if black lives matter, so do our history. It also matters because, in truth, there is white history. That history has so many lies that its proponents’ greatest fears are truth and reality.