We lost another Civil Rights giant late last week, and I’m having a hard time moving past this initial stage of mourning. I awake and want to curl up and weep and scream, my anger directed at time and disease and all of the historical injustices that may have given his health and his cancer an edge.
An Atlanta without John Lewis doesn’t quite feel as warm and gentle; it doesn’t feel as reaffirming or protected. They called him the conscience of Congress for his relentless adherence to the highest ethical standards, an essence rooted in his time alongside Dr. King, in his 40-plus arrests, in his countless sit-ins and marches, in the blood and sweat he left on sidewalks and police batons, in his lifelong pursuit for equality for all marginalized communities. He was known to be genuine, highly moral, radical and progressive beyond his time, all traits that cost him allies along the way. In his older age, he carried lightness, impressing the superpowers of Black joy upon us, laughing and dancing and playing with puppies and kittens, even crowd-surfing on national television.
It does not feel right to be here without him.
I spent my lunch break today reading a commemorative print section of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution dedicated to his life, his work, his legacy.
John Robert Lewis was born Feb. 21, 1940, to sharecroppers Willie Mae and Eddie Lewis in Troy, Ala., at at a time when the Deep South was the epicenter of legalized racism and discrimination. He was one of 10 children.
In that atmosphere, Bob Lewis, as he was called by his father, was given an early and tough life lesson by his parents: there was little to be gained and much to lose in rebelling against the system.
“They would say, ‘That’s the way it is. Don’t get in trouble. Don’t get in the way,’” Lewis said later.
In 2014, Rep. John Lewis was my college commencement keynote speaker. He told us to do exactly the opposite of what his parents once commanded. Instead, he told the crowd on that sweltering spring afternoon, “You must find a way to get in the way. You must find a way to get in trouble, good trouble, necessary trouble.”
It was the AJC’s photo timeline of Lewis through the years (digitized here by Pete Corson) that moved me most today; I saved it for the very end. By then, I’d learned so much about his monumental justice work, his unwavering beliefs somehow accompanied by patience and a willingness to forgive even the most evil.
To read of Lewis in his twenties with a burgeoning radical energy that frightened even Dr. King as being much too fiery was comforting. It also served as a reminder to listen and listen hard to the most progressive and radical among us, many of whom Lewis himself likely disagreed with.
Reading about the commemorative pen President Lyndon B. Johnson used to sign the Voting Rights Act—the same pen Johnson eventually gifted him and that wound up in the permanent art exhibit at the Atlanta airport—reading that took me back to the first time I laid eyes on the domestic terminal atrium exhibit when, as is my norm, I fell into a pool of tears in public upon seeing the pen, the mugshot, the “Because of you, John” President Barack Obama scribbled on a 2009 inauguration program after swearing in as the first Black president of these United States.
Reading about his 15-year fight for the National Museum of African American History and Culture took me back to the days I was lucky to spend inside its walls, the shock of learning so much for the very first time after 25 years in this country. I remembered feeling cheated. This bullshit American Dream they feed us, the land of the free and home of the brave. Whose land? Freedom for who? To what extent? What’s the catch? There seem to be a lot of catches. That museum taught me more about this nation in 10 hours than my 12 years of U.S. schooling ever had.
Reading about his most recent arrest—an immigration reform protest on the National Mall in 2013—reminded me of the intersectionality he always practiced and preached. He cared for us, the immigrants, the way he cared for the LGBTQ+ community. He saw a marginalized people and instinctively connected their injustices to the injustices he was born from. He reminded us time and time again that we must all be fighting for each other if we want true freedom.
I can’t stop reading about John Lewis, his life and his legacy. And as I’m reading more and more, I’m finding new comfort and new meaning in his own words and work. Soon, this grief will fuel me again. Do not despair, I hear him say.
Quotes I’m holding onto:
Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Do not become bitter or hostile. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble. We will find a way to make a way out of no way. #goodtrouble
- Twitter, 2019
You are a light. You are the light. Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish your light. Study the path of others to make your way easier and more abundant. Lean toward the whispers of your own heart, discover the universal truth, and follow its dictates.
- from Across That Bridge: A Vision for Change and the Future of America
Fury spends itself pretty quickly when there's no fury facing it.
- from March: Book One
As citizens, we knew we had ceded some of our individual rights to society in order to live together as a community. But we did not believe this social contract included support for an immoral system. Since the people invested government with its authority, we understood that we had to obey the law. But when law became suppressive and tyrannical, when human law violated divine principles, we felt it was not only our right, but our duty to disobey. As Henry Thoreau strongly believed, to comply with an unjust system is to accept abuse. It is not the role of the citizen to follow the government down a path that violates his or her own conscience.
- from Across That Bridge: A Vision for Change and the Future of America
Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.
- from Across That Bridge: A Vision for Change and the Future of America
Books from John Lewis
Across That Bridge: A Vision for Change and the Future of America (2012)
March: Books 1-3 (2013-2016)
Films featuring John Lewis
John Lewis: Good Trouble (documentary, 2020)
Selma (feature film, 2014)
Other clips to remember him by:
Rest in power.
—fiza
A big hug to paying subscribers Cary Adamms, Sam Kruger, Arielle Lewitt and Salima Makhani.