From Selma to Montgomery, Alabama marches for civil rights once again

This is a guest post written and reported by Solomon Crenshaw Jr.

Drive from Birmingham to Selma on Alabama’s Highway 22 and you’ll certainly pass Selma Roots, a family-owned “purchase with a purpose” mission thrift store on Citizens Parkway. A subtle curve puts you on Broad Street and brings you to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, site of the Bloody Sunday event that put Selma on the map for civil rights.

Over the years many have sojourned to Selma, traveling that road to commemorate the activists pursuing their right to vote who were brutally beaten by Alabama law enforcement. Visitors new and old were on that road Saturday to connect to the roots of the Civil Rights Movement as they rallied in protest of the state government’s attempt to eliminate at least one of the two majority-Black congressional districts. The “All Roads Lead To the South National Day Of Action For Voting Rights” spanned several hours and two Alabama cities, a throwback to the rallies and marches of the 1960s that preceded the hard-fought US Supreme Court rulings that resulted in increased civil rights. And it comes in the aftermath of a modern high court decision that seeks to take some of them away.

The theme of the day—from a moving hour of prayer at Selma’s Tabernacle Baptist Church, to a march from the church to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge, to the four-hour rally in front of the State Capitol in Montgomery—was clear: We’ve been down this road before. And for some, quite literally.

Samuel Coleman was 14 years old on Bloody Sunday, March 7, 1965. He was in the back of the line to cross the bridge, unaware of the savage brutality that was being inflicted on civil rights activists just ahead, including John Lewis and Hosea Williams.

“I was not in the front of the line, but my mother, my two sisters and myself, we were in line,” recalled Coleman, now a 77-year-old deacon at Selma’s Tabernacle Baptist which was part of the Saturday’s events. “We didn't have any cell phones or anything, so we didn't know what was happening across the bridge. We found out what was going on [when] we saw people running.”

Saturday, Coleman doled out bottles of water for those outside the church. He said this renewed fight for justice is like a frightening physical diagnosis.

“It's almost, I would say, like cancer reoccurring, where you have to go back all over again with the hope that the cancer would go away a second time,” he said.

The cool conditions outside Saturday morning in Selma stood in contrast to the emotional temperature that was rising inside Tabernacle Baptist. This was not the heat of anger or hatred; This was the emotional fervor that rose as the Rev. Leodis Strong, pastor of Brown Chapel AME Church, ignited the hearts of the activists who filled the pews at Tabernacle.

“Now Lord, we face a moment in this fight where some would rather destroy democracy itself than share democracy with us by allowing us to participate,” Strong prayed. “In faith, we turn our hearts to the truth, to the one who carried us through nights like this before.”

“We are not defeated, we are not hopeless because your mercy, your mercies are new every day,” he continued. “Pour out your compassion on Selma, on Montgomery, on America, as we walk towards the bridge over the Alabama River. Continue to be our bridge over all troubled waters.”

After the Supreme Court ruled on April 29th by a 6–3 vote that Louisiana had relied too heavily on race in creating a second Black-majority congressional district, Alabama officials moved quickly to try to undo Alabama’s own court-ordered second Black-opportunity district.

Republican Governor Kay Ivey, who is white, called a special legislative session so lawmakers could revisit congressional district lines. The Republican-controlled Alabama Legislature then passed bills preparing for possible special elections and new congressional maps.

At the same time, Alabama Attorney General Steve Marshall and Secretary of State Wes Allen—both Republicans—filed emergency motions asking courts to lift previous rulings that had forced Alabama to use a map with two districts where Black voters could elect their preferred candidates. They argued that the Supreme Court’s Louisiana ruling changed the legal standard for Voting Rights Act cases and meant Alabama should be allowed to revert to its previous map with only one majority-Black district. The Supreme Court later agreed to halt the lower court order decision that had required Alabama to keep using the two-district map through 2030. That opened the door for Alabama to redraw its congressional districts again before the 2026 midterm elections.

Supporters of the move said Alabama lawmakers were reclaiming authority over redistricting and complying with the Court’s newer interpretation of the Constitution. Critics, including voting-rights groups and Democratic leaders at Saturday’s Alabama events, said the actions weakened Black voting power and undermined protections in the Voting Rights Act.

The scene in Selma on Saturday was not unlike an old-time revival. And white people—not unlike the Movement of old—were visibly present. The cool of the morning gave way to warmer conditions as activists made their way out of the church. Beads of sweat formed on the heads of many, with Coleman’s bottled water helping fend off the effects of the heat. Two masses at least 100 deep walked about 12 blocks from the church to the bridge.

Annie Pearl Avery, 82, sat in a wheelchair at the bottom of the church steps in Selma on Saturday. The former activist said “we dropped the ball” when it came to protecting the rights for which she and others fought.

“We stopped doing certain things that we needed to do to secure what we have,” she said. “You've got to watch this stuff. You've got to protect it, just like you're protecting a baby. You've got to watch everything, because it'll get away from you real quick.”

As the events shifted about an hour’s drive east to Montgomery, the tenor of the day shifted as well. The tone went from that of an indoor revival to part tent meeting and part pep rally. As in Selma, the masses were the picture of diversity. There were Black people, certainly, but so many white people made it clear where they stood along these battle lines.

The crowd grew to thousands and displayed their sentiments with the signs they carried: “No Jim Crow Maps”; “The Ballot Is The New Underground Railroad”; “Honor King, End Racism.” Human rights activist groups like the NAACP, Black Lives Matter, Fair Fight Action, ACLU of Alabama, No Kings, Indivisible, 50501, Children's Defense Fund, Utopia Vision, Working Families Party, Urban League of Alabama, Black Women's Round Table and others showed up to support the cause.

Scores of government and civil leaders paraded to the stage in front of the state capitol building to make statements about the gravity of this moment. The roster of speakers included Senators Cory Booker and Raphael Warnock; Representatives Terri Sewell, Shomari Figures and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez; leader and advocate Bernice A. King, the granddaughter of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.; Montgomery Mayor Steven L. Reed, and more.

“There is no liberation without obligation,” Sen. Booker (D-New Jersey) told the crowd, as the May sun beat down. "If we in our generation do not now do our duty, we will lose the gains and the rights and the liberties that our ancestors afforded us.”

Sen. Warnock (D-Georgia) also a pastor in Atlanta, said his nine and seven-year-old children now have less voter protection than he did growing up at their age. “That makes me angry enough to show up again and again and again and again,” he said. “I know that this is a tough moment. But I dropped by Alabama to tell you that the light shines in the darkness. It's dark, but the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness overcometh not.”

Virginia K. Solomon, president and CEO of Common Cause, disputed the notion that gerrymandering is just politics. “It's not,” she said from the stage. “Bleaching congressional districts and maps in an attempt to silence Black and brown voters is court-sanctioned white supremacy. Let's call it what it is.”

Imara Jones, an American political journalist and transgender activist who created TransLash Media, cited several instances in which Blacks wondered why they were in their circumstances. Then Jones turned the light on today. “We don't quite know why we have to be here again,” Jones said. “But we do know that America wasn't America, and wouldn't be America without us.”

Marion Fintel, a white woman from the Birmingham suburb of Mountain Brook, made her statement in her attire. Standing with her husband Dick Echols, she wore a t-shirt that read, “American Is An Idea.”

“It's our Constitution. It is our Declaration of Independence. It's our form of government. It's freedom,” the 71-year-old told me. “What it's not is people who are all alike. We're all different but what holds us together is our ideals.” Fintel said she believes all people deserve respect—regardless of immigration status—and all have a right to influence our government.

“We’re going backwards,” Fintel said.

Her husband chimed in: “Man, if I had black skin, I would be a lot less happy about things than I am, and I'm not thrilled now.”

The charge given to the thousands who stood in front of the State Capitol was for everyone to go to the polls for primaries—including the one in Alabama tomorrow, Tuesday, May 19th. 

“We will not give up on you,” said Rep. Shomari Figures, whose congressional seat was placed in jeopardy with the recent state action and whose father, a former state senator, went to jail to get the Confederate flag removed from the state capitol. “Thank you guys for not giving up on us. Thank you guys for not giving up on democracy.”

Coleman, the deacon from Selma, said that despite the many battles of the past, he couldn’t miss being part of the latest struggle. Especially as he thinks about the continued struggle that will be faced by his children and grandchildren and even his great-grandchildren.

“I think a lot of what happened was that somewhere generations failed each other,” Coleman said. “They were not able to tell the other generation what happened back during that time, what we struggled for. Our younger generation just reaps the benefits of what happened years ago. They didn't watch their back.”

While the national focus on Alabama may seem sudden, those who live here know the ingrained history of the Civil Rights Movement has never stopped animating the ongoing fight for justice. For better or worse, Alabama is where it’s expected to be: There has always been a set of folks threatening to reduce the rights of people that are generally of a darker hue, and there has always been a set of folks who stepped up to battle against those threats. There is perhaps nowhere else more equipped for this fight. 

This Friday a three-judge panel will convene in Alabama federal court to decide whether or not to block the new map and preserve the court-ordered map to remain in place until 2030. If the panel chooses not to block it, there will be energy for this fight. That’s the Alabama way.

Solomon Crenshaw Jr. is a Birmingham, Alabama native who is a veteran of 48 years in journalism. The son of a Baptist pastor, he worked 37 years for The Birmingham News and AL.com and now operates under the banner of his business, SCJr. Content Providers, writing stories, snapping photos and shooting videos for various clients. His work spans the gamut of government, sports, features, entertainment and more.