Someone Built a Bridge. Now What?

Learning from the life and legacy of John Lewis

Photo by Nadine Shaabana on Unsplash

Normally, Sunday is for Wisdom From 80s Cinema.

But today we celebrate the birthday of a civil rights hero, the late Congressman John Lewis. Sadly, we lost him over the summer, but his impact on American history is still very much alive and life-giving.

I wrote this to honor his legacy. But I hope it also highlights our responsibility to follow his lead.

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In 1885, someone decided it was time to build a bridge in Alabama. They needed a better way to haul cotton over the Alabama River. And it served its purpose. For a while.

But in 1939, someone decided it was time for a new bridge. The world had changed, and the bridge needed to change along with it. The days of hauling cotton on the backs of mules were over. This new bridge, a larger, much sturdier bridge, would transport vehicles and the human beings who operated them.

And in 1940, when the construction was completed, someone decided to name this new bridge after the Ku Klux Klan’s former Grand Dragon in Alabama. This confederate general risked his life to secure his legal right to own other human beings and treat them, well, like mules hauling cotton.

And so Edmund Pettus Bridge was officially opened to the public, a modern crossway emblazoned with ancient ideals.

But then, in 1965, this bridge underwent another renovation when it became the site of one of the most critical events in civil rights history, known to the world as Bloody Sunday.

Someone decided it was time to repurpose the bridge yet again. It was meant to transport a community from the margins of society, right into the heart of equality.

On March 7, 1965, somewhere between 500 and 600 activists stepped across Edmund Pettus bridge on a march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. They were marching to secure voting rights for Black people in a society designed for whiteness.

In other words, the shadow of Edmund Pettus loomed large.

You probably know the story. When these peaceful demonstrators finally crossed over that bridge, they were met with police, nightsticks, angry white citizens, and all the hatred bubbling up from false notions of white supremacy. And even though these protestors remained peaceful, their opposition did not — tear gas and bigotry filled the air, and blood splashed the ground.

Unfortunately, it was an all too familiar scene. It seemed like a failed attempt at justice, but the effects of that day changed the nation in many ways. It woke people up. It caused a stir. It prompted a response from the president. And according to the Alabama Department of Archives and History, the total black voters registered in Alabama went from just over 53,000 in 1960 to 537,285 a few decades later.

And In 2013, someone decided to declare Edmund Pettus Bridge a National Historic Landmark, officially recognized by the government as a place of “outstanding historical significance.”

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But none of this is about a bridge, not really. It’s about what people choose to do with bridges.

You’ve probably heard the news of the recent passing of an American icon. A Freedom Rider. A civil rights champion. The former chairman of the revolutionary Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. A leading voice in Congress for more than thirty years.

Of course, I’m referring to Congressman John Lewis. And it was he who led that march over Edmund Pettus bridge that day.

He (and the many brave women and men who marched with him) rebuilt that bridge with every solemn step. In that historic moment, whether they knew it or not, Edmund Pettus bridge ceased to be merely a thoroughfare for traffic named after hate and violence and perceived supremacy. It became a passageway for greater levels of freedom; it became a crossway from injustice into justice.

Someone needed a bridge, and so they made one right there on the spot.

And in 2009, when Barack Obama was sworn in as the first Black President of the United States of America, he thought of that bridge. Speaking of John Lewis, President Obama said,

“When I was elected President of the United States, I hugged him on the inauguration stand before I was sworn in and told him I was only there because of the sacrifices he made.”

Think about that — a bridge stretching all the way from Selma to the White House.

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So, in 2020, or whenever you got around to reading this, someone is asking you — that someone being me — “What are you doing with the bridges in your life?”

When I mention bridges here, I’m thinking of opportunities, paths laid out by those who have gone before us.

We would do well to regularly consider those who have made way for us to be here today. The selfless efforts. The sacrifices. The risks. People fighting tirelessly to make this imperfect world a much better place. We didn’t build these bridges, but they’ve been stretched out before us.

A few bridges to consider:

Education

How old were you when you taught yourself to read?

Exactly. We owe a debt of gratitude to the many teachers (official or otherwise) we’ve had the privilege to learn from along the way.

Voting

Democracy is far from perfect, and we still see many instances of the same voter suppression Civil Rights activists marched against in the ‘60s, but we have a voice thanks to them.

Religion

Many evils have been carried out in the name of religion. It can be a breeding ground for bigotry, racism, homophobia, sexism, abuse… Should I continue?

Fortunately, throughout the centuries, others have used religion as a bridge to liberation, empowerment, and hope. Less Pettus, more Lewis.

Relationship

We don’t become ourselves by ourselves. And we don’t get where we’re headed without assistance. Great relationships are like bridges because they help secure safe passage into healthier versions of ourselves.

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Sometimes the bridges laid out in front of us are good as-is. Sometimes they need to be torn down and rebuilt. And sometimes they just need to be repurposed, reimagined.

As we cross over into careers and professions, are we thinking about the pioneers who went first? And what about those following after us? Are we securing bridges or just climbing ladders? There’s a difference.

As we think about our social and spiritual communities, are we considering how spaces have historically been closed off and restricted? What can we do to create room for those who might wish to follow in our footsteps if only they were welcomed? Would we still do it if it meant we might walk straight into opposition?

As we consider the freedoms we currently enjoy, are we thinking of those still pushed to the margins of society? Equity is still a ways off.

Congressman Lewis said,

“Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.”

Which is an eloquent way of saying, someone always has to consider the bridge.

There is a long-standing movement, reawakened by the recent death of John Lewis, to rename the Edmund Pettus bridge. Turns out the world has changed a little since 1940, even more since the 1800s. And once again, the bridge should change along with it.

Someone decided we should call it the John Lewis Bridge. I couldn’t agree more. Bridges are for helping people cross from one place to another, and that’s what he did. That’s how he lived.

And we can choose to help people cross from one way of thinking to another. From the margins to the main stage. From unfairness to fairness. From closed-off to wide open. And, ultimately, from hate to love.

But someone has to care enough. Someone has to take the first step. Someone has to take a risk.

Or as Congressman Lewis used to say,

“Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Someone is going to heed that call. It might as well be you.

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I’d love to know how you see it. Join me in the comments!

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