Pilgrimage to Little Rock: Part 2

Meeting the Clinton 12

Our next day in Clinton, following the inspirational storytelling of the evening before, we met Theresa and Maurice of the original Clinton 12. Would they find our stories touching? Could they relate to our struggles? Could they sympathize with us and continue to provide inspiration and hope? They walked in to the Green McAdoo Cultural Center at around 10 AM, chatting with us and answering our questions about their experiences as if we were just another group of students. We then began telling our stories. The tone changed. Immediately after we finished, Theresa looked around the room in awe and surprise. She said what we went through did not compare to her story. She felt like it seemed as if she went through nothing compared to us, she was just a little girl going to school, doing what her parents told her. Her humbleness amazed us as soon as she said that. They went through bombings and constant attacks. Their lives were put in danger every day. They did not have the needed protection and yet they still lived through it. Our jaws dropped, we felt honored. To both of them, they were just kids going to school, not making history but just doing what seemed fair and just by getting an affordable and accessible education. We are doing the same. Why should we pay out of state tuition when we live here and pay taxes here, not our home countries? How is that fair and just? Following the conversation with Theresa and Maurice, we travelled to the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, the museum that chronicled the movement in vivid detail. Artifacts, pictures, videos, and audio samples of this troubling history encouraged our fight for equality. Perceiving these images through the eyes of immigrants of mixed statuses enforced our need to tell this story. We need to adopt the spirit of those students, and live to fight for justice. We were reminded of Theresa and Maurice in their struggles. Their humbleness astounded us. It felt like talking to our grandparents, sitting around in the living room while they told stories and thought nothing extraordinary about it. Even the fact that the Clinton stories nearly disappeared from history books and was overshadowed by the Little Rock integration did not bother them. They were just doing what was right. They were just living day to day. We, the immigrant community have to live our lives. We have to make our statements of justice through little acts during the day. Our stories need to be heard. On our way to the Grey Conference Center in Canton, MS, we were stopped by the local police, who questioned our motives and wondered if we were part of the NAACP. We assured them that we were not part of the NAACP and were able to drive away safely to our lodgings for the night, which was provided for the Episcopalian Church in Canton, MS.