Civil Rights Movement -- Letters From the Field ~ ///

This is one in a series of "Letters Home" written by Joyce Brians (now Maria Gitin) from my field work with SCLC- SCOPE,and Selma SNCC and in rural Alabama in the summer of 1965 used as the basis for my memoior This Bright Light of Ours Stories from the Voting Rights Fight (University of Alabama Press). These were written when I was nineteen years old in the summer of 1965, using the language of the times and have not been edited. All rights reserved by the author. [annotations in parentheses]

July 9, 1965
Camden, Wilcox County, AL

Dear Family-

I had a rather narrow escape today & when I got back to The Academy [an all black Presbyterian private school in Camden that was used as our headquarters after the church was damaged and closed by the police] & got your letters it made me so happy I wanted to cry. I sure think about you all often.

I was with a Negro boy* & girl & one other white boy today walking down the highway when a man in a pickup truck tried to run over us — we jumped across a ditch but he kept coming back to try for more. He had a shotgun pointed at us, too. We finally decided to try to get to a phone. We went into a Negro cafi & tried to call the Academy (now SCOPE headquarters) but the line was busy. Our white Klan friend kept cruising up & down in front of the place while we two white folk hid in the outhouse. The woman who owned the place got scared & made us leave. We hid in the woods & tried to plan what to do. Finally the Negro boy went to try to find another phone. It took him over an hour. At last someone from the Academy came to pick us up & we made it safely back to town. I wasn't scared — just mad. Now our chances are blown in that community — Arlington, cuz the folks are scared of us.

I'm so tired of living in constant danger that I can't be afraid anymore. Every nite when I go to bed I just say "Thank God no one got killed today." We are getting people registered, tho' the Klan is trying its damndest to see that we don't.

To answer your questions:

1. It is very hot. It rains & thunders & lightenings for about an hour every day — usually while we are out canvassing. We seldom get cars. I have walked as much as 25 miles in one day.

1. I move from house to house, nite to nite. Everyone is afraid to keep us longer than that. They won't let me stay at The Academy anymore except in emergencies like tonite (there are Klansmen at the gate to the Academy but they can't come up here) cuz we didn't get that letter yet [from Rev Hosea Williams approving me for this housing]. I usually share a double or single bed with another girl. I've never had a room or bed to myself. Few of the homes have running water or electricity. I've never stayed in a place with indoor toilets.

2. We eat on the run — ice cream bars, milk — whatever we can find. Few people can feed us because they are so poor. When they do — it is usually fried chicken, grits, corn, beans, etc. I seldom get vegetables or meat and never get any kind of fruit. I guess I miss that the most. I'm losing weight slowly but we have to eat when we can, as much as we can cuz we never know where our next meal is coming from.

3. I seem to survive on the sleep I get. Considering I had pneumonia 2 wks ago I'm in great shape. I do get tired quicker than the others but the doctor said he's never seen anyone shake it so quickly.

4. I haven't been to church at all since I've been here cuz we aren't allowed in the white one and the Negro one has been closed by the sheriff. But I pray constantly & read my Bible every nite. Whenever a few of us gather for meals I ask grace. I feel in God's hands more than I ever have before.

My work right now is mainly going from shack to shack trying to convince people to get off their behinds & get down to register. We usually split up and get local kids to show us around. We never work in white pairs cuz the people are still scared of us. [Note: these comments pain me today; the local people were courageous beyond belief — just living there was a constant struggle. I was echoing the talk from leaders who were frustrated with the pace of registration.] We get all sorts of reactions and excuses, but we also get the rewards of seeing people stand in line at the courthouse all day & finally walk home with a new kind of pride that says "I'm a registered voter." We have what we call Mass Meetings where we give pep talks. They are rather like football rallies. I've never gotten to really preach' but I've given a couple of short talks.

I will try to remember you at 6 PM [they apparently asked me to make a mental connection with them at their dinnertime] but if I don't I will do so at some other time during the day. I am getting pretty tan. I wish I could get really black & blend in more- I feel so conspicuous — I'm so white. I've almost caused more near accidents. White folks just about drive off the road when they see me walking down the street carrying a Negro child. But I'd say they are just going to have to get used to it.

Well, I must get some sleep now. Please remember I love you all even tho' I can't write as often as I'd like to. Please keep writing & sending little goodies to me- They really mean so much.

All my love, Joyce

NOTE: I was able to personally reconnect with the "Negro boy" Robert Powell who went on to earn a MS in Engineering, enjoy a successful career before his unfortunate sudden passing in 2023. Starting in 2010 we met in Camden and Selma three times, spoke together at Emory University and to organizations online. Robert and I spoke by phone at least once a month until his death. He told me far more of his story and involvement after the book was published. I wish I could have included more of his story. (MG 2025). There are some online interviews available.

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