Bus riders to Montgomery retrace old steps while fighting a new fight : NPR

MONTGOMERY, Ala.— In 1965, Black Americans peacefully protested for voting rights but faced violence from Alabama state troopers. Two weeks later, they returned with federal protection to complete their march. At that time, Keith Odom was just a toddler.

Today, at 62, Odom, a union worker and grandfather of three, retraced the steps of those marchers. On Saturday, he traveled from Aiken, South Carolina, to Atlanta, where he joined a group of activists on buses headed to Montgomery, Alabama. Upon arriving, he stepped onto Dexter Avenue, the historic site where the original march concluded.

“Being here is all about the history — experiencing it firsthand,” remarked Odom, who is Black.

His voice trailed off as he looked towards the Alabama Capitol, near where Martin Luther King Jr. concluded the original march.

Odom expressed disappointment that their visit was not just a commemoration of a pivotal day in the Civil Rights Movement. Instead, they were renewing a fight. The 1965 activism had been instrumental in pushing Congress to pass the Voting Rights Act, which President Lyndon B. Johnson signed into law, greatly enhancing political power for Black and nonwhite voters for decades.

The “All Roads Lead to the South” rally on Saturday was a significant response following a U.S. Supreme Court decision that weakened this landmark law. By striking down a majority Black congressional district in Louisiana, the court, in a 6-3 ruling, decided that considering race in political districting is discriminatory. This led several states, including Alabama, to redraw their U.S. House districts, complicating efforts for Black voters, who largely support Democratic candidates, to elect representatives of their choice.

“I refuse to accept a future that regresses,” Odom stated. “I want a future where my grandchildren can advance.”

An old political battle is new again

The passengers arriving in Montgomery were met with a scene that echoed the past, reflecting both history and present-day challenges.

“My grandmother was thrilled when I told her about this,” shared Justice Washington, a student at Kennesaw State University, named for her family’s faith in the American system. “She said she did her part, and now it’s my turn.”

None of the participants from Atlanta were of voting age when the Voting Rights Act was enacted. The youngest among them was born during Barack Obama’s election as the first Black president in 2008.

Kobe Chernushin, 18, a recent high school graduate from Atlanta’s northern suburbs, participated as an organizer with the Georgia Youth Justice Coalition. He spent the day capturing moments for social media alongside Khayla Doby, a 29-year-old executive for the organization.

“I believe in the power of showing up,” he said.

The buses departed from a Georgia district once represented by John Lewis, who had been injured during the Selma march at age 25. Although Lewis passed away in 2020, the proposed federal election overhaul named after him remains a topic of discussion. Some Democrats hope it will counteract the Supreme Court’s decision, strengthen the Voting Rights Act, and address gerrymandering issues linked to Donald Trump’s presidency.

“I feel a connection to the same causes that motivated John Lewis in his youth,” said Darrin Owens, 27, who has worked with Kamala Harris and now trains Democratic candidates.

“Political activism is deeply personal,” Owens explained, noting that he joined the rally as a citizen, not in his professional capacity. “As a Black person in America, I believe it’s crucial to oppose actions that undermine our representation and understanding.”

Upon arrival, Owens noted the absence of federal authorities in Montgomery, contrasting with the second march in 1965. This time, many Alabama troopers and local officers present were Black.

The rally was organized by Fair Fight Action, a legacy of Stacey Abrams’ political initiatives in Georgia. Abrams gained national attention with her gubernatorial campaigns in 2018 and 2022, though no Black woman has been elected governor in the U.S. yet.

Different generations share their stories

Montgomery, a city with a complex legacy, is known both as the cradle of the Confederacy and the modern Civil Rights Movement.

“It feels like we’re stuck in a cycle of progress followed by backlash,” observed Phi Nguyen, a civil rights lawyer in Atlanta and daughter of Vietnamese refugees.

Standing near the church where a young Martin Luther King Jr. led the Montgomery Bus Boycott and not far from where Jefferson Davis became the Confederate president, Nguyen and her sister Bee met Carole Burton and Tondalaire Ashford. These 72-year-old Montgomery residents have been friends since attending a segregated junior high school and later a newly desegregated high school.

“I don’t call it ‘integration,'” Ashford said, pointing to her skin. “It was never true integration, and we can’t simply blend in.”

Burton described their experience as part of the “second wave” of Black students. “It wasn’t easy,” she said. “We supported each other.”

They recall a time when their parents couldn’t vote due to discriminatory practices like poll taxes and literacy tests, which the Voting Rights Act eventually banned. They shared family histories with the Nguyens, highlighting the different but overlapping paths of immigrants, descendants of enslaved persons, and Native Americans.

“We just want to be treated as equals with the rights and opportunities promised by this country,” Burton said. “They’ve never fully delivered on that promise.”

Conflicting legacies are at stake

For Odom, who began his journey in South Carolina, the current Supreme Court’s decision reinforced historical patterns by dismissing race-conscious election policies as a means to ensure fair representation, rather than just the “technical right to vote.”

He recalls being represented by Strom Thurmond, a segregationist who served as a Democratic governor and later as a Republican senator. Now, Odom fears losing U.S. Rep. Jim Clyburn, a prominent member of the Congressional Black Caucus, due to redistricting.

“They want to erase that legacy while we’re still dealing with Strom’s?” Odom questioned.

Odom also worries that the young people involved in Saturday’s rally are not trailblazers but rather exceptions.

“A 20-year-old coworker told me she supports my efforts but doesn’t want to be involved or campaign for anyone,” he said. “She questions what these candidates will do for her.”

Despite this, Odom remains committed to sharing his experiences. “I’ll still tell her what I witnessed and heard,” he said.