Jocelyn's River

Jocelyn's River: Chapter 3

         Frederick Douglass enlightened me with these very filling words, “Where justice is denied where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe”. They called us ignorant and yet they look at segregation as being absolutely right and in God's plan.  Animals we are to them and they expect us to bow down and kiss their feet.  Repetitively, Daddy tells the church to think back years ago when slavery was our inevitable fate.  He wanted us to count our blessings and be thankful for all the good things we had in our lives.

            Included in my enduring list of blessings was my ability to read and have the chance to get an education.  When I had a lot of time on my hands which mostly happened when school was not in session, I took pleasure in spending time at the colored library.  Escaping from this cruel reality and diving into a fictitious life was my favorite pastime.  Our books had been drawn in and pages were torn.  These books were the flayed, old remnants of the white library and we only had a small selection.  Being the avid reader that I was, the books that the colored library had to offer were not enough for me.  I had delved into the majority of the books there.

            During the summer, on Saturday evenings I tutored a high school freshman at the library.  He had the most trouble with math and unfortunately it was my least favorite subject, but I achieved high grades in the course.  Kirkland Johnson was short and thin for his age and he wore glasses.  All the kids in his grade gave him a hard time.  He was a cute kid, I must say.  Sometimes I even caught him staring at me.  One day when I first began to tutor him, I looked up from the paper and he said, “You sure are pretty, Ms. Jocelyn”.  This should not have made me feel uncomfortable since he was just a skinny little boy who probably weighed a couple of pounds more than I did.

            “Ms. Jocelyn,” he sighed.  “I don't know if I can take much more of this.”

            “Come on, Kirk,” I urged.  “We're almost done.  Now, you've got to divide by six---”

“I'm just not smart like the rest of them!” he exclaimed and recoiled when the librarian shot us a heated look. 

            “Kirk,” I sighed and leaned back in my chair.  “Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent”.  You can let what people think get to you or you can try harder and prove yourself.”

            He tried this every session.  His confidence was to his feet and it needed to rise, so he could walk with his head high.  Well, who am I kidding?  I haven't even reached this point yet.  I give good advice and fail to take it for myself.

            “Easy for you to say,” he mumbled.  “You smart.  But they can afford the best books and get the best education.  We are just the dummies.”

            I didn't expect him to have this little outburst.  The library was supposed to be my escape and not he was bringing in the outside drama.

            “Please don't speak defeat,” I implored him.

            “I ain't gone be here on June 17th,” he said and threw his pencil on the table.

            “Why not?”

            “My uncle is a member of the Freedom Riders and I'm traveling with him to Tallahassee.”

            The Freedom Riders were civil rights activists who traveled to segregated states to protest.  Nine times out of ten, violence usually came about when civil rights activists marched and tried to bring freedom to us all.  Dr. King worked around the violence and found different ways, only to be arrested.