09/30/2026
Dear Community,
“Selma, Lord, Selma,” rings the refrain from a memoir of the same name written by two women, Sheyann Webb and Rachel West Nelson, who were children in 1965 when they joined the ranks of those determined to face racism, iniquity, and violence in Alabama during an extended civil rights campaign that would change a nation. “Selma, Lord, Selma.” What are we to make of this moving, aching pronouncement that, upon first encounter, gestures toward sorrow?
As I write this, I am flying home from another visit to Selma, Alabama—a place that long ago captured my heart and now defines my determination to change the world. My team (a dream team, I might add) and I spent the last few days in what is quickly becoming our home away from home. We were there to have meetings with community leaders and everyday citizens so we can learn how they want us to walk alongside them in our mission for the Institute for History and Equity. Yes, we made strides in understanding our work going forward, but what I leave with this time is far more than I could have ever imagined. This time, “Selma, Lord, Selma” sings to me in an uncharted way.
One can hardly traverse Selma’s downtown business district without encountering numerous foot soldiers who risked much for the cause of liberty, of justice, to force a nation to confront its wicked reality and to make the words written in the founding documents apply to all. We don’t know all of their names as we pass them by, but they greet us nonetheless with a warmth that reminds one about the humanity that should define our every encounter. Even in their anonymity, their dignity and poise arrests the gaze of anyone, us included, who knows that residents of a certain age in Selma have borne witness to, and created, a history that delivered hope, inspiration, and righteousness to a nation. Each moment spent in Selma is a reminder of the selflessness that marks the foot soldiers and the city as a whole. And each glance at a dilapidated building or seemingly war-torn street refreshes the reality that an unjust reciprocity has left Selma wounded.
On March 15, 1965, President Lyndon Johnson addressed the nation from the White House. Stirred to do so after witnessing courageous and committed Selma residents be met with state-sanctioned violence simply for peacefully protesting segregation and disenfranchisement, Johnson insisted, “The efforts of [African Americans] to secure for themselves the full blessing of American life must be our cause, too. Because it is not just [Black people], but really it is all of us who must overcome the crippling legacy of bigotry and injustice.” Johnson signed the 1965 Voting Rights Act (VRA) months later, moved to action by what those protestors encountered and endured. The VRA was arguably one of the most important pieces of legislation ever created in America, but the legacy of which Johnson spoke has shaped historical policies and ideologies that have built profoundly interwoven obstacles to success—depressing, devaluing, and dismissing opportunity and possibility in Selma. And yet, they rise. They continue to welcome those who are there to learn. They greet us with smiles, handshakes, hugs, words of encouragement. They teach us what it means to navigate this world with nobleness and perseverance.
“Selma, Lord, Selma,” can and should be read as a call to action from a city whose dignity and equally adamant strength beckons a reconsideration of how we think about the small town perched alongside the Alabama River. What is deeply apparent each time I am welcomed by Selmans is that their pride, resolve, and wisdom serves as a blueprint for how we should connect with one another. It is a beacon for all us to understand how to exist in a harsh world. We owe Selma a debt for what they continue to give to us. We owe Selma gratitude for encouraging legislation that fundamentally changed America. We owe Selma for every bit of wisdom and grace they impart to each person who passes through their city. “Selma, Lord, Selma” is a refrain that encourages us to rise to our best selves, to help others, and to remember that “it is really all of us who must overcome” every legacy of injustice that threatens humanity.
Our Call To Action:
While in Selma, we visited the Edmundite Mission’s clothing store. Residents can shop for free clothing and household items. The Mission relies on donations. The extraordinarily kind woman who works at the store told us that they do not have enough clothing for children. If you would like to help, please send new or gently used clothing to the following address:
Edmundite Mission
1401 Broad Street
Selma, AL 36701
334-872-2359
[email protected]
