March 10, 2004
-
I was talking to my high school teacher and History Day advisor, Mr. Myron Piper, and he was telling me about a project on Rosa Parks, which was being submitted into the competition this year. He sparked memories of my time in History Day, where I had the fortune of meeting Rosa Parks in 1997 in Washington, D.C. She was stately, a figure of profoundness. I am sure she was not much different than in 1955, when she refused to give up her seat on the bus that she was riding. Her grandson was with her, and he echoed that pride that she held within her.
We were there as part of the National History Day competition. That year, the theme was Triumph and Tragedy in History. She was in a wheel chair when she came into the room. I was sitting down in the audience when she was wheeled over right next to me. I didn’t know who she was at first and she asked if the performance had started. I responded, “No,” and asked her if she knew anyone competing. She said she was here to watch someone. She didn’t mention that that someone was doing an individual performance in celebration of her stand and the eventual desegregation of the public transportation system in Montgomery, Alabama.
It was only after there was a consistent murmur among the audience and I heard other people talking did I realize that she was Rosa Parks. I was able to talk to her after all the performances, and she addressed the crowd that had gathered quite eloquently. We asked what was going through her mind. She said that when she refused to move that day, she knew she had backup. She had been president of the NAACP, and was aligned with some important individuals. When she was arrested and put on trial, it wasn’t until then that she said she would challenge the constitutionality of the Montgomery’s segregation laws. She anticipated it being big. She didn’t know it would be this big.
She went to jail on a point of principle. Would you? I’d like to say that I would do the same thing. I’ve never been faced with that before. There comes a time that people become tired, though. Rosa Parks was that. She continues to be a persistent symbol of human dignity in the face of brutal authority. She was a calm strength. Her modesty sustains us. It’s the belief in the power of the individual, that cornerstone of the American Dream, that she inspires, along with the hope that all of us – even the least of us – could be that brave, that serenely human, when crunch time comes.
