Reflections of the
Rev. Dr. C. T. Vivian and Rep. John R. Lewis
During the weekend of April 27-29, 2018, I was fortunate to be among the thousands of people from around the world to attend the Equal Justice Initiative’s (EJI) opening of the Legacy Museum and National Memorial for Peace and Justice , hosted by the renowned Bryan Stevenson . In a chance meeting of the hotel lobby at Embassy Suites in downtown Montgomery, I met the great Rev. Dr. C. T. Vivian. He was literally sitting quietly just a few feet away from me. When I realized who he was, I literally froze in my seat. I took a few seconds to decide if I would introduce myself, as I genuinely understand that sometimes great figures want to be left alone when they are not “on” per se. However, giddy as a child on Christmas morning I simply could not resist, particularly as the daughter of parents who were avid participants in the Civil Rights Movement. I remember taking a few deep breaths and then I went for it, not sure if he would politely speak but then gently shun me away.
When I walked up to him and introduced myself, he flashed that beautiful smile we have all come to know him for and graciously allowed me to hug him. I know, a simple handshake might have been more professional, but I am a southern woman from Alabama, therefore, a hug, in this moment, seemed necessary and apropos. Afterwards, something I surely could not have expected happened, that is, we engaged in a lengthy and meaningful conversation. First, we both acknowledged how incredible the weekend was that we were experiencing. In true to form fashion, I went on (and rather on) about how phenomenal Bryan Stevenson was and what a gift he was for younger activists like myself, who are striving daily to map out meaningful strategies to positively impact racial and social equity issues. He obviously agreed and I could see and feel the great pride he felt in relationship to Mr. Stevenson. In fact, we both referred to him as our modern-day anointed one, likening him to Dr. Martin L. King, Jr., in terms of what was becoming his global impact. I thanked Rev. Dr. Vivian for his life of service and leadership and discussed how there would be no me, nor countless others, without the sacrifices he and other great leaders made to advance racial justice. We discussed a number of other issues around race and class and, as we spoke, what stood out most to me was his gentle nature and...that he made me laugh. Yes, one of the greatest and most serious activists of our time, literally had me laughing out loud. I did not know if I should be embarrassed or delighted, actually, I was a bit of both. Perhaps, my assumption was that in such a moment, I would and should remain serious, but that just did not happen. In fact, we shared a few laughs in that conversation and in my education that day, I learned something valuable. These great activists and leaders were not merely brilliant, courageous, seemingly superhuman individuals to many of us, but they were, in fact, human. I recall how refreshing that feeling was and how very much I hoped to be like him and the likes of Mr. Stevenson and others someday. In hindsight, Rev. Dr. Vivian accomplished the thing he had done for countless others many times over, that is, he inspired me, and before long I felt as if I were conversing with a family member. In fact, I made a mental note to be sure to tell Mr. Stevenson that the EJI weekend was everything, to speak in the vernacular, and much like what the ultimate family reunion must feel like.
Both of my parents attended Alabama State University (ASU) and were involved with the Civil Rights Movement. My mother tells the story of how she and her roommates joined the march, as it passed by ASU, traveling by foot from the campus to the capitol in downtown Montgomery. I first heard specifically of Rep. John R. Lewis by my father, when I was a young child. In fact, it was part of the many stories of the movement he shared, including how my father was once tracked down by the FBI for some of his…let’s just say more radical actions, to put it mildly. In speaking of Mr. Lewis, my father spoke of his fearlessness, stating that even back then, they all knew there was something special about him. My father and Lewis were both the same age and he knew him before he moved to Atlanta. At that time, Mr. Lewis still lived in Troy, AL and was a rising star among Dr. Martin L. King, Jr.'s selected generals to organize, share platforms, and work collectively across the south.
As an adult, I watched Rep. Lewis remain accessible and within reach. In fact, I recall him responding to a request for him to participate in an AISJ Racial Healing and Reconciliation series, a Freedom Riders Panel on April 21, 2018. While he was unable to attend, he called us back expressing his deep disappointment that he had a scheduling conflict that would not allow him to participate. He was literally always a simple phone call away. I state this to point to how much I marveled at how accessible these movement giants were, even in the sunset of their lives. And, as I think about their lives, I now understand that it was that type of humility and openness that made them great men and true servant leaders.
As I reflect upon my own life and work, I am thankful that I have lived long enough to experience these great men and that my own efforts will continually be shaped by them and their legacies. I am thankful that we live in a world where we can continually experience the greatness of a Bryan Stevenson and learn from their journeys without necessarily having to pay the same price they did, including, at times, paying with their dignity. Today, it is with abounding gratitude that I honor the lives of Rev. Dr. C. T. Vivian and Rep. John R. Lewis. A simple thank you seems insufficient to express the depth of appreciation for all that they accomplished, but even if it is all I have to give, I do so fully and sincerely, vowing to continue to use their lives as a road map and rubric for excellence in service.
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