Picture it: Selma, Alabama. March 7, 1965. A group of 600 peaceful protestors sets out on a simple walk—just a little 54-mile stroll to Montgomery, the kind of light cardio your Apple Watch might nag you about. They weren’t looking for trouble. They weren’t looking to break any laws. They were just looking to do something radical, something outrageous, something that had clearly struck fear into the hearts of powerful white men everywhere: they wanted to vote.
Ah yes, voting—the activity that, in theory, every American adult is supposed to have the right to do. But in Selma, Black residents made up nearly half the population and only about 2% of them were registered to vote. Why? Because democracy, in Alabama at the time, came with an obstacle course of literacy tests, poll taxes, and some good ol’ fashioned racist intimidation. It was like trying to sign up for a gym membership, but instead of getting a free tote bag, you got harassed by the sheriff and maybe lost your job.
So, after years of this nonsense, civil rights activists decided enough was enough. They planned a peaceful march to Montgomery to demand voting rights. Easy, right? Nope.
They got as far as the Edmund Pettus Bridge—which, fun fact, is still named after a Confederate general and KKK leader, because America loves to slap the names of its worst people on infrastructure—but I digress. They reached the bridge and were greeted by a wall of state troopers and local police who were like, “Hey guys, good to see you, real quick though: leave or we beat the hell out of you.” And when the protestors didn’t turn back? Well, the cops followed through. Hard.
Let’s set the scene: men on horseback, wielding clubs. Tear gas thick in the air. Police charging like it was some kind of medieval battle but with more racism and less chivalry. Among the victims was John Lewis, who got his skull cracked open—though, honestly, that probably only made him more powerful. He would go on to spend the next several decades wrecking the careers of racist politicians with the same level of enthusiasm they had for voter suppression.
And here’s the thing: The whole country saw it. It was 1965, so no, there weren’t TikToks or viral Twitter threads. But there was TV. And when Americans turned on their sets and saw people getting stomped out for asking nicely to vote, there was outrage. The kind of outrage that makes presidents start passing laws just to get people to stop yelling at them.
Within months, President Lyndon B. Johnson—who, let’s be honest, probably didn’t wake up wanting to help but also didn’t want his legacy to be “guy who ignored civil rights until it was awkward”—pushed through the Voting Rights Act. And boom, the laws that were suppressing Black voters were suddenly illegal. Not that Alabama didn’t immediately try to find new ways around it, but you get the idea.
Today, the Edmund Pettus Bridge still stands, still named after a guy who would have hated the fact that it’s now a symbol of Black resistance. There’s been talk of renaming it, but America has a complicated relationship with doing the right thing in a timely manner. In 2024, a statue of John Lewis was finally unveiled in Montgomery—because if there’s one thing the U.S. does love to do, it’s apologize in bronze 50 years too late.
So, what’s the moral of the story? One, don’t let racist laws stand unchallenged. Two, if a cop tells you “leave or we’ll hit you with a stick,” don’t assume they’re bluffing. And three, voting is so powerful that entire governments have historically dedicated themselves to making sure certain people can’t do it. So, maybe don’t take it for granted.
