The First Lady of Civil Rights

As everyone knows, Coretta Scott King died on January 30th from ovarian cancer. I saw people mourning around me; in the grocery stores, gas stations, every day people weeping over a woman they had never met. It made me think of when President Reagan died, and how unaffected I and the general population seemed: it was sad, but expected, and I didn't think of legacy then.

I live in Atlanta. The MLK memorial is about five minutes from my door, as is Ebeneezer Baptist church, the church where Dr. King gave stirring speech from behind the pulpit. His history is everywhere here, and it is one of the things that makes me proud to live in this city, to work here, to learn here. The movement for freedom and equality is the pumping heart of this place, beneath all that is cosmopolitan and trivial.

Driving home monday night, I saw road blocks and everyday citizens walking a country mile through the cold rain to reach Ebeneezer Baptist church. It was a mass of humanity dressed in black; black faces, white faces, every shade in between making their way to the memorial service. I had a moment of irritation; it was late, I was hungry and the day had been long. After I navigated my way through the detour, I sat at a stoplight and felt like an ass. I live here. Everyday I drive past the memorial and think about how lucky I am to have that constant reminder of such amazing struggle in front of me. I live minutes from where they where honoring this woman, minutes from this moment in history, and I didn't go.

I watched the services on tv instead, and all day just felt like I was missing something, like there was someplace I was supposed to be. I should have been there. I have a new regret to add to the others.

We live in an era where battles like the ones that Dr. and Mrs. King fought are rare. Real protest, real public outcry doesn't happen anymore. It's all scripted, disengenuous, a made for tv movie. The outrage is gone. As a nation, we fail to name our greivances and join together to end them. There are no leaders to lead us.

I had my own little memorial yesterday, glued to tv, listening to people speak lovingly and reverently of a woman who gave everything to make others free. I can't wrap my head around that kind of sacrifice. All I can feel is awe.

I am amazed by her, by people like her, who faced such hatred every day and never faultered. I don't know if I would have that kind of strength. Is there anything that we can say we would willingly die for? We want to save Tibet, the spotted owl, we talk about womans rights, gay rights, the rights of minorities. But never since that time 40 years ago has so much ground been broken in the name of progress. Her legacy has to be that call to arms. That call to outrage. Her legacy is sacrifice for the common good, and the belief in the rights and will of the people. Her legacy is stoicism and nobility, grace and purpose. It's quite a legacy.