Lifting our voices

It was the 1960s. A high school sophomore watching TV, I had seen black students marching in Birmingham attacked by dogs and pummeled by fire hoses. I had also seen black men and white men marching, arms intertwined. I had heard the Baptist pastor from Atlanta as he said, "Justice too long delayed is justice denied.”

In my home, however, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., was not respected. When I asked my father what he thought about Dr. King, he said, “He’s causing a lot of trouble.”

“Good trouble,” I would later come to understand, as John Lewis made those words the practice of his life.

Today, decades later, I look back at the pivotal moments in my understanding of what Dr. King was all about. How I came to understand that the struggle for civil rights for Black people was also a call to White people to break free from the shackles of prejudice, from compliance with systems of oppression.

Growing up white in America, I had absorbed racist attitudes and tendencies, much like a sponge on a wet countertop. Now, Dr. King, and many others, were asking me to squeeze the bad water out.

Attending segregated schools, prescribed or de facto, I had not known much about the lives of black people. That would come after I left home, in college, and on jobs. A lifeguard for two summers in the city pools of Washington, D. C., I was one of only a few white employees. We almost never saw a white person come to the pool.

My comradery with other guards and staff, my experiences teaching children to swim left me feeling bonded in ways I could not then easily have articulated. It was a time of awakening.

In the following years, my friendship with people of color in places of work and worship, and in our neighborhoods deepened my conviction that, as citizens, as humans, we are all one people. Consequently, we are obligated to stand up for each other, for “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

That we are all one people was reinforced this week as I turned on local-access TV to watch Stoneham men and women, students and adults, come together to read “I have a Dream,” that famous speech that resounded over the Capitol Mall 58 years ago.

What a lovely way to honor Dr. King, I thought, as I heard high school students, selectwomen, pastors, children and adults, bring his words to life again. What an example of unity, what a reinforcement of our highest values, I thought as I heard the student chorus sing “Lift Every Voice.”

In an America torn by partisanship, conspiracy mongering, violence and hate, it’s a good time to rededicate ourselves to seeking justice, inclusion, and reconciliation—and to the ultimate subversion of evil, love. As Dr. King said, “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools."

Thank you to the students, teachers, technical staff and community members for showing us what “the beloved community” looks like.

© Ben Jacques

Note: If you missed the 20-minute performance on Stoneham TV, you can still watch it “on demand” at https://www.stonehamtv.org/ondemand. It has also been posted on YouTube.

Ben Jacques is the author of If the Shoe Fits: Stories of Stoneham Then and Now, and In Graves Unmarked: Slavery and Abolition in Stoneham, Massachusetts, both available at the Book Oasis, 311 Main Street in Stoneham.