Written By: Madeeha Anjum
There’s a weight that follows a child’s first steps—
a pressure that hangs over their heads &
a persistent tremble in their hands and legs
that causes them to fumble about the room,
tears streaming down their faces and against
their parents’ clothes as they collapse.
Confidence is what makes those first steps
memorable, the steady placement of each foot
as they plant them in an effort to make a stride
forward.
When Ruby Bridges took her first steps
through the gates of William Frantz Elementary,
she was met with scorn, not applause— a
mass of white arms and legs stomping near
her, daring her movement with their curses
and vitriol. They piled their anger in the streets,
waiting for her to trip—waiting for the screams,
the tears, the angst of a six-year-old child who would
run away in fear of what was to come if she moved closer.
They wanted her to cower, but she stood tall,
as the Sun brushed her dark skin and dyed it gold
for them all to witness—the black child who fought
for a cause greater than herself, who refused to
trip and cry in her parent’s arms, who dared to
take those first steps towards a new America.
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