“You cannot change the past, but you most certainly can learn from it.”
–Alice, ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass’
Our nation’s history, like each of our personal stories, is tainted by misdeeds.
Although we cannot alter America’s nefarious antiquities, those committed at home or abroad, we can become informed historians. Each soul living within American borders plays a role in our country’s trajectory.
Pastor Joby Martin purports that the best prediction of one’s destination is asking where you’ve been and in what direction you are currently walking.
So, America, where have you been and where are you walking?
Last week, I toured Montgomery, Alabama on the final day of my sorority’s mission’s trip. Prior to our visit, we were ignorant of Montgomery’s relevance. Yet, even in our short stint, we absorbed much of the city’s rich past.
If you ever explore Montgomery, you will find that wherever you walk is dotted with the DNA of history.
For example, we started at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church on the corner of Decatur and Dexter Avenue. In 1978, the church’s name was changed along with the adjacent road. Originally, slave auctions were held along the road and so it was named Market Street. Later, as a result of civil rights activity, the street was renamed Dexter after Montgomery’s founder Andrew Dexter.
In the shadow of the capital dome, the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church housed the office of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Now the church stands as a memorial, commemorating Dr. King’s service to the church where he pastored and his lifelong activism.
Brave protestors shadowed the church’s doors as they marched 54-miles from Selma to the capitol steps in Montgomery.
For three days, they marched on. Three is a holy number. Jesus Christ was in the grave for three days and He rose with freedom from sin in hand.
Those who endured the three-day march were instrumental in the Voting Rights Act passed by Congress that following August. Freedom from discrimination at the ballot boxes was their victory.
Fifty-three years later, I marched the abridged version. From the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church to the marbled capitol, I felt the elation of walking in the footsteps of Americans who had exercised their rights.
Americans who believed in a better America where discrimination is left in the past.
Next, we perused the mental health exhibit housed in the second floor of the capital building. Students from every corner of Alabama created artwork as a therapeutic catharsis.
They found healing in the canvas. They told their stories in watercolors. They raised awareness, not by lifting their voices, but by lifting their brushes.
The mental health exhibit served as an unplanned precursor to our final stop- the Rosa Parks Museum.
Situated where she was arrested for riding in the front of public transit, Parks’ museum now features a modern art collection called ‘Break Glass: A Conversation to End Hate.’ Essentially, the exhibit answers the question, how do we move forward?
How do we, as a nation, as a community, as individuals, move past the hate and violence that has divided and destroyed so many?
What does a city, like Montgomery, or a nation, like America, takeaway from the scars that remind some and haunt others?
Well, we have to break the glass that separates us. We may be able to see each other, but we also need to hear each other. Upon hearing, we may learn from each other.
Some of the modern art pieces are constructed with disturbing relics. However, they were artistically designed to incite productive dialogues regarding the heinous movements and moments of our nation’s past. Once we confront them in the present, we may change the future.
Through such exhibits we- collectively- have an opportunity to heal like the students with remedial artwork.
That being said, during her time spent in Wonderland, Alice also learned that apologies should always be offered, no matter how much time has passed.
After breaking the glass, we should start with an apology. Then we need to step over the broken shards, and join them on their side.
We can’t fight the past alone.
