#timelineinthesouth there is probably a story on every road through Alabama
Day 4 – 5 Atlanta, Georgia and Montgomery, Alabama
When we returned to Atlanta we stayed in the 4th Ward, walking distance, maybe two blocks, from Martin Luther King Jr.’s childhood home. We stayed in a restored shotgun home, next to us was a newly constructed townhome on one side, and on the other an older home with what I would say where some of the original neighbors. The street was a complete mix-match of peoples, cultures, classes. I didn’t know what to think. Honestly, a little sadness was in my heart, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to saying to myself I wouldn’t walk around here alone at night. And in this conglomeration, I was also happy, hopeful. Maybe the neighbors wouldn’t get taxed out, or bought out. Perhaps, this originally predominately black neighborhood would still hold reference to its past 10 or 20 years from now.
Then I went up the street and around the corner to one of the Atlanta’s (and a growing tradition in the south) dining halls, and I lost a little more hope. This will be as far as I will take you into the gentrification visible in this growing city. You can see it in every American city in 2017, yours definitely has it and there aren’t many nuances to it from city to city. [We should definitely consider how our middle class preferences effect others... more on this in upcoming blogs.]
But as we went around the city, eating, shopping, site seeing, thinking, talking, drinking coffee, and documenting it all in our minds and camera, I couldn’t have been more blind to the privilege of perceived safety that comes with being in a big city and seeing a variety of people and styles. Though I don’t really remember seeing any ethnic groups in high percentages outside of African Americans and Caucasians, there was still diversity within fashion, hair, etc. You could tell people were familiar with life outside of 'black people can only like this' and 'white people can only be like this'. I wouldn’t dare believe that would be the thoughts of all that live outside of big cities in the south, but from an outsider’s point of you, things got homogenous quick once we left the city.
Our last day in Atlanta was giving my mom hugs and kisses goodbye and lugging our shared suitcase onto a megabus and climbing to the top floor and settling into the deep blue seats. Our next stop would be Montgomery, but it wouldn’t be the final stop of the day. It was time to rest a little, but prepare a lot, we were going further into a different world.
Upon arriving in Montgomery we anxiously jumped off the bus, called an uber and hustled to the car rental place to pick up our pre-ordered car and jet off to the eastern edge of Mississippi. Having a car to drive at our desired speed was a welcomed changed. However, the bus did allow us to sit back, close our eyes, along with reading different magazines and books. And Scott even got some time in to make a bit of music from sounds he’d been collecting. Check it out here on his page! But now in our own car, a two-hour distance from one city to the next meant just that, as busses usually extend the drive time 30 minutes to an hour.
First stop, Selma, Alabama. Hell yes, we got to ride from Montgomery to Selma! Oh how I wished we’d plan to walk, or at least drive slower and stop when we wanted. But instead I got to day dream about Martin Luther King Jr and company traversing along this path, going the opposite direction of course, but building up inside of them the words, the power, the heart to walk straight up to a capitol (which is surrounded by confederate statues btw), past the walls and and gates of hatred, misunderstanding, and fear, to proclaim “I have unalienable rights, give them to me, allow me to cast my vote.” I am totally paraphrasing, but Scott and I had a good, robust, long conversation about the gift we had been given to have the opportunity, a white man and a black woman together to go down this same road, legally married, never having to encounter personally the prejudices that once were encountered on this road.
We didn’t have time to thoroughly stop and investigate Selma, because we had a date with another friend in a little city to us, but one of the largest in the state to Mississippi; Meridian.