[This is my letter home, one I did not use in my book. Imagine what it was like for my family to be reading this around the dinner table, thousands of miles away. Today [July 1, 2015] I consider the pain, heartache and activism of young (and older) people in Charleston, and around the South as we combat a new wave of murder and church burnings.]
July 1, 1965
Hi! Things have been really hot around here — in more ways than one. The nite (sic) after I got out of jail — the same night I phoned you — two of our local boys were beaten in the church. The church was sacked, doors broken down, gunshots in the walls. One boy who was beaten with a lead pipe is in precariously dangerous shape in the Selma hospital. We could only find a white doctor for him & he isn't getting the best of care. The other boy was clubbed but is recovering nicely. The local crackers did the job — some of them are Sheriff Jenkins possemen during the day.
It is now July 2 —
While I was in jail the white boy in the cell next to me was beaten by his white Southern roommate. I could hear him screaming & moaning. The guards gave Crow — his cellmate — cigarettes for beating him. It made me so sick I couldn't eat anything so I gave my food — what little there was — to an insane man who was in the cell next to me. The trustees (Negroes who are guards) gave us a bad time.
It is now July 3 — every time I sit down to write to you someone calls a staff meeting or the phone rings. Anyway — jail was hideous but I'll write you the gory details some other time. The nite I was released was the nite the two boys were beaten in our church. I phoned the hospital, newspapers, etc. I've developed a close relationship with one of the men (white) on staff. I can' t say anymore about it because that is the kind of ammunition police could use if either of us gets jailed again. We stayed up all nite by the phone for further news. It was a miserable nite. At 5 AM another boy phoned from the church — he had been beaten, too.
The story was that 8 white men in stocking masks broke down both doors of the church, shot a hole in the wall & beat 3 boys with a lead pipe. I went to the church the next day and it was a mess. (Again I must go — hope I finish this soon)
It is now July 5th — I had to move out of Camden Academy cuz I didn't get a letter to (Principal) Hobbs in time. Besides, it's too dangerous to be in Camden now.
Yesterday you never would have known we were having a Movement. We went to the playground & swam & roasted hotddogs & danced & sang. It was a great day & no arrests were made for a change.
I am staying with a wonderful woman in Coy (one of Ethel Brooks' neighbors or a relative) near Camden. I don't know when I'll get to write to you again.
I love you. Thanks for your letters — they mean so much. I got the dresses — the shift is really nice.
We'll be canvassing voters all over the county for the next two weeks so its on the road for me. We'll just stay at folks houses when evening falls.
It's 6:30 AM July 6th — and we are ready to go out in the field to canvass for voters. There are more little incidents all the time. One of the strongest local leaders [ Don Green ] a junior in high school, had some moonshine planted in his car. When he drove out of the Sawmill Quarter, the police were waiting for him. They took him to jail, put him in the bull pen — a cell with no windows or ventilation, harassed him, left him overnight & released him. He's been beaten dozens of times, yet he's a wonderful person [meaning, he wasn't bitter or angry]. Well, our ride is here. Much love, Joyce
[See Summer Community Organization Political Education Project (SCOPE) for background information. And for more about Joyce and the Wilcox County Voting Rights struggle in 1965, read This Bright Light of Ours: Stories from the Voting Rights Fight by Maria Gitin (formerly Joyce Brians).
Copyright © Maria Gitin, 2015
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