It is tempting to think America, and the world, lost something precious on 17 July 2020, with the passing of Rep. John Lewis and Rev. C.T. Vivian on the same day. Both of them were stalwarts of the Civil Rights Movement in the '60s as young men, and continued their activism the rest of their thankfully long and full lives. Lewis' public profile was larger than Vivian's, thanks to being a longtime member of Congress and the telling of his story on numerous platforms. (Including the graphic bio trilogy March, which I read in the weeks after Donald Trump was elected president, and which turned out to be a good preparation for life under his presidency). Yet Vivian was well known in post-Movement circles, and both men were widely respected elders to later generations of activists.
We might think their deaths severed our tangible links to past struggles and victories, leaving us without direct witnesses and testimonies to the conviction and bravery it took to earn those victories. But that's not quite true. Lewis and Vivian were indeed titanic figures, but they weren't alone.
In 1961, they were among hundreds of Americans -- Black and white, men and women, college students and working professionals, trained activists and energized newcomers, people of various faiths, from every part of the country -- who successfully challenged Southern segregation of train stations and bus depots in direct defiance of a U.S. Supreme Court ruling. They would become known as the Freedom Riders.
The first bus of Freedom Riders was attacked and blown up outside Anniston, Alabama; the Riders barely escaped with their lives. (Lewis was supposed to be on that bus but had obligations elsewhere). Another bus was ambushed by Ku Klux Klansmen. Buses of Freedom Riders were greeted by official resistance, by bodies from state and local governments to the news media, at every stop on their way to Mississippi, their ultimate destination. But they kept coming. Wanting to be at least a little circumspect about their intentions, states charged the riders with the seemingly minor offense "breach of the peace".
By the end of that summer, the Riders had achieved their goal. National outrage led the White House to finally get involved, and work towards ending what had become a nasty standoff in Mississippi, where many Riders were sent off to notorious Mississippi State Penitentiary in Parchman, and ensure desegregated traveling accommodations.