Sunday afternoon (June 14), I was among the hundreds that participated in the march, which ended with a rally on the Sumter County Courthouse grounds. I cannot recall all of the marches I have been a part of; all I know is there were many of them, i.e., the March on Washington, the Poor People's March, the Million Man March and marches in Columbia and Florence and march after march here in Sumter.
In the heat of the Sumter Movement in the mid-'60s, there was a march every Sunday afternoon and mass meetings, sometimes two to three per week. I can hardly remember ever missing a march that was held here. But there was something different, something antithetical about this march. I felt the tremble of its significance when I drove away from my home just blocks away. I felt it when I stood waiting for the march to begin. And I felt it each step that I took along the way.
There were not many in the crowd who could or would understand the nostalgia. For them, this was novel A first-time experience A "Never thought I would" moment. But the age of cameras everywhere made them eyewitnesses to an unbelievable living drama as the breath of a man a black man, was squeezed to death under the knee of a white police officer. The badge to protect for Mr. Chauvin was a license to kill without cause or provocation. This kind of lawlessness was not unusual for him, his fellows in the police fraternity or their relatives. It is a behavior that has gone unchecked and undisciplined for generations.
Little did he know, his hideous crime was disrupting the tranquility of a nation that was pretending that these kinds of things never happened and do not happen, when they have happened and do happen every day in the lives of black people across this country. From the balconies, decks and parlors of their places of safety, security, serenity and escapism, they were forced to recognize that there is a different world out there where some smother under the weight of poverty, prejudice, police brutality and imprisonment.
Whatever the catalyst, they were there marching and chanting "Black Lives Matter," "White Lives Matter," "All Lives Matter," "Freedom now," "I Have a Dream," and "We Shall Overcome."
But for me, it was everything but novel. I could not for the life of me ignore the contrast between a march on a Sunday afternoon in 1964 and a march on a Sunday afternoon in 2020. Why, it never crossed my mind 56 years ago that I would ever witness a protest leaving from the steps of Grace Baptist Church, led by police officers and preachers, marching down Calhoun Street with a throng of people, multi-levels of diversity, i.e, faith, communion, race, sex and age headed anywhere even heaven.
If I may digress, as I stated previously, in the heat of the Civil Rights Movement of the '60s when many communities responded with hostility, barring a few exceptions, Sumter remained calm and peaceful. I still hold with awe a deep respect for Sheriff Parnell and Chief Strange and Officer Priest and others; whatever their persuasions, they never took on the character of a Bull Connor or some of the other law enforcement people in the South. The same is true for the Jackson family. I worked for them but took my lunch hour to picket in front of some of the stores downtown. They never threatened to release me. It was a manner extraordinary for people who perhaps did not agree with my mission but respected my method I worked and worked hard, too! They paid for my work but did not try to govern my life.
However peaceful, there were no police leading the marches. There were no white congregations supporting the movement, not even secretly. There were no whites, young or old, in the marches. They sat silently on the sideline and perhaps prayed that the demonstrations would end and life would go back to usual. Well, the demonstrations ended, but things did not really go back to normal. Our community has changed drastically since then, and more change is needed and will come.
The march on Sunday was a giant leap into the future. Those who have for so long sat down stood up. Those who for so long have been silent, spoke up. Those who for so long ignored racism acknowledge it. Those who have for so long professed to be Christian (Christ like) became Christian. Those who have for so long been cautious and callous became compassionate. Those who have for so long played it safe decided to take a risk. A new normal in human relationships, community and brother and sisterhood is imminent as we continue to chart the path we now trod.
Someone may ask, why did it take so long to get to this juncture? Why was there no voice when others died or were raped or abused or ignored? Why was nothing said while injustice and inequality trampled thousands and left them as miserable wrecks along the coastline of life? Well, there is an answer; the time had not yet come. Evil is insane, and it does not ever stop while it's ahead. There is an occasion when it (evil) goes too far. May 25, 2020, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, was the day and place.
Now, good people who have been silent realize that they can't be good and silent in the face of sin, violence, hatred, meanness and malice. Evil thrives on the wickedness of the notorious and the insensitivity of the righteous. A new Sumter is not only within our grasps; it is within each of us. It will happen as we eliminate, explore and explode. "Let go and let God "
It was truly awesome to be in the march and rally and to experience what I thought was probably impossible to ever occur in Sumter actually happen.
The Rev. Ralph Canty is pastor of Savannah Grove Baptist Church in Florence and chairman of the Sumter School District Board of Trustees.
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June 23, 2020 at 05:00PM
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