Looking across the Quad, it has become so easy for us to take for granted the hallowed grounds of history that we trudge across on the way to class every day. Today, we have an opportunity to reflect on a defining moment of that rich, and often marred, history and apply the lessons learned to new problems we face as part of the ongoing story of the Capstone.
Today marks exactly 57 years since Autherine Lucy Foster, a young black woman from south Alabama who dreamed of being a school librarian, was suspended and later expelled by the University’s Board of Trustees after riots on campus and around Tuscaloosa left a grim outlook for the future of the first black student on campus.
For days, students and community members inundated the Quad, the old student union building and the President’s Mansion, rioting and chanting against the University’s decision to admit Lucy for classes. The mob burned crosses in front of Denny Chimes, wielded axes in the air and openly confronted a timid President Carmichael.
But make no mistake; the University did not accommodate Lucy. At the discretion of the University, she was not assigned a dorm room and was not given a meal ticket, as administrators reasoned that such arrangements would be considered “not wise.” Ironically, in every sense, Lucy was painted as the radical in the whole situation – the one who just couldn’t let things be as they had always been.
When Lucy arrived on campus on Feb. 6, 1956, there was another mob waiting outside Smith Hall, where she would be attending her first class of the day. She was pelted with rotten eggs, targeted with bricks and verbally degraded as she entered the building, her determination stronger than any of the hatred that she faced.
But even in the midst of her unparalleled courage, the riot won the day.
Lucy had only attended school for three days before she was told not to return, as the board cited an inability to ensure her safety, solidifying their staunch opposition to the tide of progress that continued to erode one of segregation’s last strongholds.
The University’s first attempt at integration has, sadly, been mainly overshadowed by the second – and final – attempt seven years later that brought the world’s eye to the showdown between a defiant Gov. George Wallace and the emissaries of President Kennedy at the doors of Foster Auditorium.
(See also [Letter to the Editor] “Diversity concerns more than race”)
This year, the University will commemorate the 50th anniversary of that legendary moment, as James Hood and Vivian Malone walked past the door’s blockade and into history as members of the University’s first fully integrated student body.
As we reflect on these two historic moments throughout this year, I take issue with terming these events as celebrations. A celebration of what? That, after years of thoroughly recorded obstruction and literal force from the federal government, the University finally made the right decision?
No, these events call for true remembrance. They call for a concerted public discourse that prevents this type of inhumanity from sprouting its ugly head in our communal systems ever again. These events are more than just opportunities for walking tours, plazas, statues and other token efforts to show how progressed the University has become.
We still have clear divisions on our campus that cloud our ability to see the world through an accepting, tolerant lens.
Our greek system, the largest in the nation, still remains blatantly segregated and politically shady. Our student body, which grows every semester, has become increasingly apathetic toward investing in the progress and advancement of the campus community.
Our student government continues to drown out the voices of the average student, haphazardly blowing our tuition dollars on useless concerts and issuing laughable opinions from the judicial branch that fail to attempt to justify allowing corrupt systems of power to continue.
As we’ve learned from countless examples throughout history, eventually the walls fall down. I have no doubt our campus hindrances to progress will one day fall too.
But why not now?
What we needed most back then is what we need most now – open, honest intercultural dialogue between individuals and groups that remain divided.
Sure, we’ve moved past the rioting and other barbaric attempts to make a point, but our division remains largely in place. We make no progress because we do not talk to each other and express no interest in even trying.
I challenge us to spark those critical conversations about difficult topics within our own lives. Like Autherine Lucy, we must constantly challenge and question the status quo. It is the only way we will truly find the ability to advance ourselves and our community.
Austin Gaddis is a senior majoring in communication studies. His column runs biweekly on Wednesdays.
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