'Why Didn't We Just Wear Targets on Our Backs?'
Ms.
Susan
Wachob,
San Francisco,
California
I was 16. My sister and I were on a bus chartered by Washington University (or maybe a nearby church) among maybe 30 buses filled with people going to the march from Selma to Montgomery. People were converging from all over the country for one of the biggest civil rights marches in history. We were a multiracial group of clearly middle-class people in their early 20s mostly. We were excited and scared, not knowing what to expect but going anyway.
The route was south through part of Missouri, crossing the Mississippi north of Memphis, and on through Tennessee and Mississippi, arriving early in the morning. That meant we did most of the traveling throughout the night.
The bus stopped at a bus station somewhere (I think it was Memphis) late in the evening. Before we got off, we were told that there would be an announcement when we needed to get back on the bus, and we would know the announcement when we heard it. The wording just added to the excitement and fear.
The announcement finally came. "All of those taking the bus to a secret destination should reboard immediately." It was late at night. We were in Memphis. And they announced that we were going to a secret destination! Why didn't we just wear targets on our backs?
Later that night, a sheriff pulled us over to a weigh station as we drove along a Mississippi backwoods highway in the middle of what seemed like absolutely nowhere on a road lined with thick trees and not a building for many miles. This unmanned weigh station was a tiny shack, about six by six feet, with one light hung outside the door, shining down on the vehicle parked in front of it--in this case, our bus. Otherwise, there was nothing except those pitch-black woods. He told us he thought the bus might be overweight and that he was going to call someone to weigh it. We got down on the floor of the bus, below window height. I remember putting my large purse next to me against the side of the bus to protect me in case any shots were fired.
Nothing happened. I mean absolutely nothing happened except our waiting and waiting and being more and more afraid. Should we go and be safe? Or would that give the sheriff (who had gone, too) the excuse to arrest us? Should we wait? For what? To be shot? Or were we "just" being terrified and taught a lesson that they could do what they wanted, when they wanted and not to come back? I don't remember whether the sheriff returned or not. It was too frightening to fully remember now.
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