Last week I wrote about a certain transformation of mine--one of racial transcendence and of forming bonds of solidarity with African-African Americans. I told you how I overcame my fears about personally interacting with Black people and how I was able to build strong relationships with people I would have otherwise avoided, simply because they were “different” from myself. But what I failed to tell you was why I was moved to do it. Why was it so important for me to learn more about Black culture, or to truly understand the consequences of Black history in the United States? What motivated me from just knowing about the history of racial struggle in this country, to actively doing something about achieving racial justice in the present by joining Black organizations on campus? What moved me to study African American and African studies in school or decide to devote my life to working toward equalizing educational opportunity for children of color across the Diaspora? In a world where many would argue racism no longer exists, I can’t help but point to the overwhelming amount of racism that still exists. Though outward and obvious forms of racism such as slavery or segregation are no longer allowed, a new kind of racial exploitation has taken its place. Now it is through racist institutions and structures such as laws, public bodies, corporations, and universities that perpetuate racial disparities. The fact of the matter is my dedication to the Black liberation struggle is not one that is seen among the majority of white people in this country. I hope that by sharing my reasons and the stories of two other brave white women, Viola Liuzzo and Silvia Baraldini, I will be able to convince others to see the truth as I did, and to be moved away from the status quo and toward action against injustice.
In March of 1965, a group of peaceful protestors in Selma, Alabama were attacked by state troopers as they Marched toward Montgomery. A few days later another group of protestors, led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., won a court order allowing for another march from Selma to Montgomery directing the state to protect the marchers. The Governor at that time, a well known racist, told the White House that the state couldn’t afford to pay for the mobilization of the National Guard, so President Johnson sent in 1,900 of Alabama’s National Guard, 2,000 regular army soldiers, and 200 FBI agents and US marshals to protect the march. Viola Liuzzo, a 39 year old housewife from Detroit watched the second march move toward the Alabama capital. Liuzzo had watched the disaster of the first march on TV and decided she needed to do something to aid the Civil Rights marchers. Against the wishes of her husband and five children, Liuzzo drove alone from Michigan to Alabama in her family’s car to assist where she could.
Earlier in the week before the second march, Liuzzo had spent most of her time working at the hospitality desk in Brown Chapel at Selma and used her car to take people back and forth to Montgomery’s airport. The last day of the march to Montgomery, she worked at the first aid station, aiding those who had fainted from heat or exertion during the march. She then watched Dr. King deliver his "How long will it take? ... Not long, because mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord” speech. When the march ended, there were thousands of people from across the country who had come to participate in the marche, just like Liuzzo, that needed to get out of the city. She loaded her car with passengers, mostly black, and headed back toward Selma. When the passengers were dropped off, Liuzzo and Leroy Moton, a black teenager, headed back to Mongomery to pick up more people. After being harassed several times before leaving Selma, they stopped at a traffic light. Soon another car pulled up beside them. When the lights changed, the car began to speed up and chased Liuzzo. The chase went on for almost 20 miles as she tried to outrun her pursuers. All the while she was singing “We Shall Overcome” at the top of her lungs. Soon the other car closed in—a car full of Klansmen. One of the men fired twice into Liuzzo’s car, killing her.
An all white jury in Alabama acquitted the four Klansmen for the murder of Liuzzo. Since they could not be charged with murder in federal courts, they were tried under another law with conspiring to deprive her of her civil rights. They were found guilty, and served only 20 years in prison. The punishment given to these men was hardly appropriate for such a heinous act of injustice.
Another great woman, Silvia Baraldini, gave up her white privilege to aid in the struggle for people of color. At 14, she moved to the United States from Italy with her parents. Later on in life she attended the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where she became a political activist. She became active in both the Black Power and Puerto Rican independence movements in the US between the 1960s and 80s.
In 1982 Baraldini was sentenced to 43 years in prison for conspiring to commit two armed robberies, driving a getaway car during the prison break of convicted murderer and fellow political activist Assata Shakur, who was wrongly accused of shooting and killing a New Jersey State Trooper, and for contempt of court for refusing to testify before a Grand Jury that was investigating the activities of the Puerto Rican independence movement.
Soon after her conviction, a campaign for her release began in Italy, mainly among leftist parties and movements. Her supporters claimed that the harshness of her punishment was due to her political beliefs and for her participation in the Black Liberation Army. Her punishment was seen as unfair and disproportionate to her “crimes.” Had she been convicted for the same crimes in Italy, her sentence would have only been a maximum of 25 years in prison.
After serving time in several maximum-security prisons, and after repeated petitions by the Italian government for her transfer, Baraldini was transferred to Italy to serve the remainder of her sentence. According to the terms of the agreement, she was supposed to stay in prison until 2008, but was released on house arrest in 2001. In 2006, she was released from detention in September of 2006 by a general pardon approved by the Italian Parliament.
Both of these women recognized the injustice that their brothers and sisters of color were facing in the United States. Both knew that despite what anyone else told them, they were doing the right thing by stepping up and taking on the burden of joining the struggle to end racism against people of color. They realized that the Black struggle is what American socialists and communists recognized earlier in US history: the struggle for true democracy. They struggled for a kind of democracy where racism, class division, and feelings of fear and hatred toward people “different” from the social norm were abolished. Viola Liuzzo and Silvia Baraldini were willing to give up the privilege that so many white women cherish and achieve freedom for all human beings at any price, including their lives. They believed, as I believe, that everyone on this earth deserves the right for equal opportunity. Seeing that such equality was being denied to people of color through racist institutions and structures, seeing the contradictions within our own government, we must be willing to face scrutiny and disapproval from the loved ones in our lives as well as expulsion and punishment from the society around us in order to do what’s right. In the face of great suffering, where do you stand? Are you willing to watch your brothers and sisters get beat down in the street, are you ready to watch democracy burn, or are you ready to take a stand and do something to change it?
