From Yoseph Teklemariam, in Kelly Ingram Park, Birmingham:

Standing on the steps of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in the midst of a thunderstorm, I hear the echoes of those mourners who sang "We Shall Overcome" and "God is on our side." Thirty-eight years later, I stand on the steps of the remodeled and restored historic church, wishing it never had to be. I gave across the street at the Civil Rights Institute. Thunder strikes for the first time, sending chills down my spine. The memory of four little girls liquefied in time, as the rain shares their crying tears, dying tears. After thirty-eight years, they now rest in their endless fears.

From Charles Hughes:

One thing that is already clear on this journey is that the "civil rights movement" was not made up of a monolithic group of people that all rose or fell with the same ideology or strategy. That has certainly been proven to be a ridiculous notion …

From Story Matkin-Rawn:

We can't repay the sacrifices and gifts of the past. With imagination, patience, frustration, and gratitude, I hope to take this great privilege and use it to shape my actions and life.

From Julie Posselt, on meeting civil-rights organizer Diane Nash in Chicago:

I loved Diane Nash today. Making nonviolence (a.k.a., love) an intentional way of life has been central to my philosophy and desires for social justice.

From Steve Furrer:

Our discussion with Diane Nash this morning changed some of my previous notions and ideas about the civil-rights movement. Ms. Nash said, "People are never the enemy. Unjust systems are the enemy." I've never considered the movement in that respect alone. I always saw people like [George} Wallace, Barnett, {Byron] de la Beckwith, Pritchett, and Bull Connor as enemies. In my mind, they're mean, evil people. After this morning, I've begun to think that it's the racism and ideologies they harbored that were the enemy, not them. They're still mean people, though.

From Mia Reddy, in Birmingham:

It is not about the Martin Luther Kings, but [about] the local people. I think I really, really, truly realized it today. I was speaking to one of the volunteers [at the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute], and it really hit me. He was in one of the pictures on exhibit. He was escorting his children while they integrated one of the local schools … Do the students who live here and have teachers who were active in the movement realize how lucky they are? They are experiencing history firsthand. Teachers like Lucy Foster. Is it as real for them as it is for me?

From Gwen Drury, on the Body of Christ Deliverance Ministry program, Birmingham:

I wondered during the whole program what this evening's preparations and proceedings meant to this congregation. How often do they get to talk about what they did? Some people who were given ribbons when they stood up ("Stand up if you took part in any of the marches.") said that they had never before been acknowledged as a "footsoldier" of the movement. No one had ever publicly thanked them. Ninety percent of these were women. Each of these people by doing what they did has actually changed my life. How can I thank them? Somehow Martin Luther King Day looks different in this light. Maybe it's not meant to be a day to celebrate his "I Have a Dream" speech, but one on which to thank people who work for justice.

From Megan Vail, on the Body of Christ Deliverance Ministry program, Birmingham:

From all four stories, I sensed the deep commitment and love that they all had for their communities and [their] well-being. There was no fear to die in the name of fighting for the black struggle. I was amazed at how calm and relaxed Lucy Foster was when discussing her own experience in 1956 at the University of Alabama. She would mention the white mobs waiting outside for her while she was in class and never showed the true fear running through her every thought.

From Charles Hughes, in Hattiesburg, Mississippi:

The quiet graceful power of Mrs. Ellie Dahmer and Vernon Dahmer, Jr., still haunts me, burned into my conscious (and likely subconscious) mind. The two of them stood on a stage in front of strangers, most of them white outsiders, and recounted an incident so terrible and brutal that many who have no connection to the Dahmer family have trouble speaking of it. Mrs. Dahmer, especially, radiated the most amazing balance between strength and weakness, a balance that allowed us to both rejoice in her strength and identify with her struggle.