The National Memorial for Peace and Justice (Montgomery, Alabama) and the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute (Birmingham, Alabama) (UPDATED*)

In early November, I gave a guest lecture and informal seminar at the University of Alabama. I had been invited by Utz McKnight, who is the Chair of Gender and Race Studies and Professor of Political Science at U of A.

On the day before these events, Utz took me to (among other places) the National Memorial for Peace and Justice (also known as the lynching memorial), created by the Equal Justice Initiative, and to the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute. Both sites were unforgettable.

You may have read or listened to this recent interview with Bryan Stevenson, founder of the Equal Justice Initiative and Memorial for Peace and Justice. The Birmingham Civil Rights Institute is the organization that, earlier this month, revoked its decision to honour Angela Davis with the Fred Shuttlesworth Human Rights Award.

*Democracy NOW reports that the board of the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute has voted to reaffirm Davis as the recipient of the award. (More information is available here.)

I’d like to share some photos that Utz took of the Memorial for Peace and Justice and the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute. Image descriptions appear as captions below each of the photos.

I have also posted, below the photos, an outstanding video that was broadcast as part of the PBS News Hour series “Brief But Spectacular.” In the video, Stevenson, a lawyer, as well as the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, talks about the history of racial narratives in the U.S. and how the violence and terrorism of these narratives has not yet been addressed. A transcript of the video appears directly below it.

Inside the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute. The walls of this room are covered with photos, most of which are sepia-toned. Track-lighting is directed onto the images and words on the walls. Life-size clay statues of a youngster wearing a baseball cap, someone in a worker’s jumpsuit, and an older man holding a cane and wearing a hat, suit, and bow-tie fill most of the foreground of the shot. They are in motion, going somewhere. In the background, someone wearing a raincoat and glasses is looking at the images on the wall to the right.

A shot from one side of the Memorial for Peace and Justice which itself is outdoors and not enclosed. The structure of the memorial, whose floor is about eight feet above the ground, is composed of weathered wooden planks. Steel pillars about six feet long hang from poles in the roof of the structure and appear to sit just above the planks. The entire structure is surrounded by green grass.

A shot inside the memorial. The rusted exterior of the steel pillars, which hover inches above the floor of the memorial, is evident. Someone in a dark raincoat and glasses walks on the wooden planks between the pillars.

In this shot, one can see that the floor of the memorial actually declines and the interior pillars are in fact not hovering inches above the floor throughout the memorial. The design of the memorial is intended to give one the feeling that the steel pillars are bodies that have been raised in the air.

Transcript

JUDY WOODRUFF: Finally, another in our Brief But Spectacular series.

Tonight, attorney Bryan Stevenson, a longtime advocate for criminal justice reform, shares his thought on race and the legal system.

BRYAN STEVENSON, Founder, Equal Justice Initiative: I was doing a hearing in the Midwest. I had my suit and tie on. I was there early. It was the first time I had been in that courtroom.

And I sat down at defense counsel’s table, as I always do. And the judge walked in. And the judge said: “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, you get back out there and you wait out there in the hallway until your lawyer gets here. I don’t want any defendant sitting in my courtroom without their lawyer.”

And I stood up and I said: “I’m sorry, Your Honor. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Bryan Stevenson. I am the lawyer. And the judge started laughing, and the prosecutor started laughing, and I made myself laugh, because I didn’t want to disadvantage my client.

But, afterwards, I was thinking, what is it that, when this judge saw a middle-aged black man, it didn’t even occur to him that that man sitting at defense counsel’s table was the lawyer?

I worry about that judge. I worry that he’s sentencing defendants of color more harshly. I worry that he doesn’t value and accept the testimony of black and brown witnesses the way he does other people. I worry that a narrative of racial difference compromises his ability to provide fair and just treatment of all people.

I don’t think we’re free in America. I think we are burdened by our history of racial inequality. We have a history of horrific mistreatment of people based on color. And I think that narrative of racial difference that was cultivated to justify that mistreatment has created a kind of smog, and we have all been breathing it in.

If you read the 13th Amendment, it doesn’t talk about narratives of racial difference. It doesn’t talk about ideologies of white supremacy. It only talks about involuntary servitude and forced labor.

And, because of that, I don’t think slavery ended in 1865. I think it just evolved. We had decades of terrorism and violence where black people were pulled out of their homes, burned alive, hung, beaten to death, sometimes literally on the courthouse lawn, and we never talked about that.

And then we had this era of civil rights resistance to racial segregation. And we have made progress, but we haven’t confronted the narrative of racial difference, unlike South Africa, where you are required to hear about the damage done by apartheid, unlike Germany.

In Berlin, Germany, you can’t go 100 meters without seeing markers or stones or monuments placed near the homes of Jewish families abducted during the Holocaust.

But, in this country, we don’t talk about slavery. We don’t talk about lynching. We don’t talk about segregation. And our silence has condemned us.

When I went to Harvard Law School, my first year, I didn’t want people to know I started my education in a colored school. I didn’t want them to know I was the great-grandson of enslaved people. I thought it might diminish me.

And then I realized that my power, if I have any, my strength, if I have any, my insight, if I have any, was shaped by those people who survived slavery. And it’s in that story of survival that I think we have some greatness that we can offer, and not just people of color, but all of us who’ve learned to overcome.

My name is Bryan Stevenson. And this is my Brief But Spectacular take on justice in America.

JUDY WOODRUFF: And you can watch additional episodes of Brief But Spectacular on our Web site, pbs.org/newshour/brief.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.