Civil Rights Pilgrimage Day 1: Ubuntu

Friday May 27^th

Earlier this week I participated in some of the events marking the 50^th Anniversary of the Freedom Riders coming to Jackson, MS, in 1961.  One night Amy and I attended a banquet honoring the riders and we waited in line with a middle age man.  We engaged in small talk to pass the time in the long line.  We asked the usual where he was from, what did he do, yadda yadda yadda.  Then Amy asked if he had an interest in the history of Civil Rights movement.  He bluntly replied, “no, I’m not really interested in the history, but I should because I am an African American.”  This response struck me as odd, but we moved on to other topics of conversation.  I could not explain why his response bothered me, but it did.  Today Amy and I drove around town reflecting on the past week’s events when she mentioned his comment, and I realized what bothered me.  The Civil Rights Movement is not just the history of African Americans, but all Americans.  The events that took place in the South in the 1960’s are just as much a part of my history as a white woman as they are a part of the collective history of an African American man in Mississippi, a Hispanic woman in New York, an Asian American in California, and a Native American.  I think it is reckless to take ownership over a certain part of American history, because a majority of the players look like you.  We might not realize it, but our daily lives, as Americans, are influenced by the events of the past.  They make up the thread that weaves the multicolored tapestry of the American experience.  

This idea of the common American experience reminds me of the Zulu word Ubuntu.  Ubuntu means "I am because you are."  It is a philosophy that recognizes our common humanity with another and how we are inextricably connected in it.  I understand that the African American community feels a deep connection with the events of the Civil Rights Movement, but I do not believe they can own it as solely theirs.  Just as I do not believe that only Native Americans can own the history of the Trail of Tears, or Caucasian Americans can own the moon landing.  The atrocities and triumphs of American history belong to every American.  We should rejoice in each other's success and weep for each other's loss.  Until then, we will fall short of the hopes and goals of the Freedom Riders and Marches of the Civil Rights movement.