Reflecting on Bloody Sunday: A Journey to Selma
This weekend marks the 60th anniversary of “Bloody Sunday,” a pivotal moment in the civil rights movement. What began as a peaceful march for voting rights ended in a brutal attack on men, women, and children by state troopers armed with billy clubs, cattle prods, and tear gas. The nation was shocked and horrified by the images of unarmed marchers being attacked as they crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama.
A few years ago, I had the honor of walking across that same bridge with an incredible group of Black and white women from our Getting to We community. We were there to begin building gender solidarity and to do the real work of moving toward racial equity—and, wow, was it powerful.
During the making of our documentary, Trust in Black and White, women from different parts of the country came together to travel to Selma and Montgomery. Our time together was filled with difficult, painful, and, at times, deeply meaningful conversations. We examined the lack of trust between us and explored a path forward through better self-awareness and vulnerability. It was a critical step toward breaking down the divide and building true gender solidarity.
As we approached the bridge, it struck me that it was smaller than I expected, but the weight of history was so heavy and immense. I remember standing there, trying to imagine how the original marchers must have felt as they approached the crest of the bridge, only to see state troopers with guns, tear gas, and clubs waiting on the other side.
And still, they marched.
They marched for justice despite knowing the danger that lay ahead. It’s hard to fathom that kind of courage and determination.
As we walked together, Black and white women arm in arm across the Edmund Pettus Bridge, the past and present seemed to merge. The images and voices of those who marched for justice echoed around us. The profound sense of history, sacrifice, and the enduring fight for equity enveloped us. It was a moment of reflection, gratitude, and renewed commitment to the work that still lies ahead.
Would I Have Marched? A Personal Reflection
I often wonder: Would I have had the courage to march for racial justice back then? Would I have risked my life to hide Jews in my basement? I honestly still can’t answer these questions. I know what I want to believe, but I’m not sure.
What I do know is that the more work I do today in understanding my white identity, exploring my role as a woman in society, and nurturing my deep conviction that equity and justice are everyone’s issue, the more committed I become to building gender solidarity to help save our world. Women are the key to justice, connection, and safety – I know that in my bones.
Viola Liuzzo: A Model of Courage and Solidarity
During our drive from Montgomery to Selma, we passed a roadside memorial at the spot where Viola Liuzzo was shot twice in the head by three members of the KKK. One of them was an informant for the FBI. She was a mother from Detroit who saw the images of Bloody Sunday and couldn’t look away. She was a white woman who could have easily turned away, telling herself that this was a Black issue, that it had nothing to do with her. Instead, she understood a profound truth: what was happening in Selma was happening to all of us.
Gender Solidarity: A Powerful Force for Change
There are both Black and white women working tirelessly to bridge the divide and tap into our greatest strength—solidarity with one another. As a white woman, I often feel disappointed when I see other white women choosing privilege over justice, turning away when the fight for equity calls us to show up. But I also see powerful examples of courage from my white sisters who do show up—women like Viola Liuzzo and the many members of our Getting to We community—who understand that true gender solidarity is not just an ideal but a strategy for fighting injustice and creating a better world for our children.
Women are the teachers and keepers of our culture. We are born leaders, natural nurturers, and, I believe, the very soul of this nation. But this potential is only realized when we stand together in solidarity- when we refuse to close our eyes to injustice, continue to show up, and commit to building the bridges that generations before us dreamed of crossing. It is through this unwavering commitment that we honor the legacy of those who fought before us and create the equitable future we envision.
Living Out Courage: Our Call to Action
When I think about the many women who marched for civil rights—those who fought, sacrificed, and even lost their lives for justice—I can’t help but wonder how disappointed they would be if we allowed their efforts to be in vain. It would be a tragedy to stand by and watch the rights they fought for slip away.
History shows us that many white women have been complicit in upholding racial injustice, often choosing loyalty to their white husbands over standing with their sisters in solidarity for justice. It might be tempting to dismiss this as an issue of the past, but a quick look around reveals that while we have made progress, there is still a long road ahead.
I struggle with the shame of this history. But then I think of Viola Liuzzo—her courage, her sacrifice. She is a powerful reminder that we cannot remain on the sidelines, comforted by the privilege of distance from injustice. Injustice is not someone else’s problem—it is a human issue, and it affects all of us.
We must find the strength to step into discomfort, ask hard questions, and hold ourselves and each other accountable. We need to be the generation of women who refuse to let history repeat itself. Our fight is for our children to inherit a nation not divided by fear and hate but built on love, justice, and unwavering solidarity.
The Power of Togetherness: Building Bridges and Taking a Stand
The time is now. Like Viola, we must each find our own way to take a stand for what is right. Our strength is in our unity, and our true power emerges when we boldly use our voices and actions to create the change we envision for a just and equitable world.
