home february 26 february 27 february 28 february 29 march 1 march 2 march 3 march 4 march 5 reflections bios		final reflections by mimi belton beltonm@umich.edu Coming soon. by teresa buckwalter tbuckwal@umich.edu Events in my mind are not structured in a linear fashion, they do not form a coherent timeline from beginning to end . Instead, they form a collage of images with certain moments more vivid than others. "Until Justice Rolls Down Like Water and Righteousness Like A Mighty Stream". These do no exist as mere words in my mind. They are attached to an image; an image of an amazing moment made up of more than fifty people holding hands and singing. We are all standing in front of Maya Lin's Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama. Water flows gently over a black granite wall on which those biblical words are carved. I am holding the hand of an elderly man I don't know on one side and Mimi on the other. I look over at Joe and he is singing, "We Shall Overcome" with such genuine enthusiasm that I get chills. I look over at Michael who is smiling brightly as he sways to the music between to strangers. This brings tears to my eyes. A woman in a wheel chair is at the center of this. Just from looking at this image you would not know that she was Emmet Till's mother. But in this moment, she is just a woman singing. The image is larger. As you move farther out, you can see that our gathering is juxtaposed with a crowd of confederate flags waiving in the warm breeze; waiving in celebration of a Southern Independence Festival. It occurs to me that the southern separatists attached to these flags are holding on tightly; not just to their flags, but to their history. They seem to be desperately clinging to the idea that the history of the South is theirs to keep. This desperation contrasts strongly with the image of our group. Aside from each other's hands, we are holding on to nothing. We are just letting go, just being together, just singing. Many other moments stand out for me on this trip. Listening to Debra and Juliana read John Lewis' account of Bloody Sunday as we crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama will be engraved in my memory for a long time to come. Also memorable, though less poignant will be those moments, (actually hours) of listening to 80's and 90's pop music in the minivans as we drove to our next destination. We drove for so many hours and listened to so much Celine Dion and In Sync [editor's note -- correct spelling is 'N Sync] that I reached a point where I felt like hyenas were gnawing on my brain. Hmm. . . do you think we gave the students a bit too much freedom in terms of the music selection, Joe? Musical taste aside, the students were a huge part of the experience for me. This next moment is a small illustration of what I mean. Small Gestures I arrive at the Cajun restaurant thoroughly spent from having driven Alyssa and Natalie to the airport during a tornado warning. It took us 3 hours; most of those spent in a Winn-Dixie waiting out the storm. I am tired. I have almost nothing left of the adrenaline that has been sustaining me the whole trip. I want badly to just sit by Joe and relax and not feel like I have to interact with anyone. There is only one chair at the end of our long table-for-twelve. Both Joe and I want this single chair, but we both want to sit together. We start trying to negotiate who should get the chair. I am tired of negotiating, we've negotiated for 1500 miles so far on this trip and I want to eat dinner. At the moment when I am deciding between sitting down and falling down, something very wonderful and very telling happens. Almost imperceptibly, Alberto quietly gets up from his chair to move to the other end of the table, ceding his spot to allow Joe and I to sit together. I don't even realize what he has done until I find myself half way through my Cajun paella and sweet tea, sitting comfortably next to Joe. I say this is a telling moment because it is indicative of the small, kind gestures typical of Alberto, for sure, but also typical of all of the students at their best. A Bit about the Group People usually form the most vivid images in my mind. The individuals who formed our group of students were a distinctive bunch indeed. I have already mentioned Alberto, but I would like to say a few words about each of them. Patricia with her infectious spirit brings everyone out. She weaves her outgoing personality into a brightly colored ribbon that connects us all. Juliana is like sunshine: you can't help but be in a good mood around her. I'm sure the Singaporean Tourist Board will count itself lucky to have such a radiant personality coupled with a skilled diplomat like Juliana. I am endlessly charmed by Zach, with his lefty politics and his humor about himself and most situations. The best part about him though is that his sense of humor does not insulate him from being moved by the words, sounds and accounts of the Civil Rights Movement that we are seeing. Jeb seems to be making the most friends on the trip. This doesn't just include everyone on the trip, it also extends to waiters, hostesses, guys in gas stations, old ladies walking down the street, etc. He is single-handedly breaking down the barriers between North and South. Michael is a wonderful mix of politician, technical genius and 19 year old. Despite his musical taste, (O.K. sometimes I find it endearing) I have great respect for his tireless energy and enthusiasm. Mimi is also a wonderful mix; consisting of mystery, sweetness and deep reflection. I look forward to reading her account of things. Debra already thinks like a graduate student at 19. She seems to easily play around with a lot of nuanced ideas, not to mention she's fun to be around. And Jordan, what can I say except I must respect someone who, with unwavering calm and good humor, accepts Joe's and Patricia's insistent, persistent friendliness. by debra gittler dgittler@umich.edu It's been almost 2 months since we've returned from our trip and I haven't stopped talking about it yet. All that there really is to say is that my spring break gave me stories to share with my children, and experiences and exposure to affect how I choose to live my life. Our generation is accused of being apathetic and uncaring, more concerned with money than social welfare and too caught up with our priveleges to stop and think about others. But I think that each one of us who went on this trip can be sure that we won't fit that mold. Ignorance is bliss and at times I think it would be easier not to be concerned with the wellbeing of others...But as long as I remember how other people sturggled in the past to insure that I--WE--wouldn't have to, I'm assured that only through knowledge and sharing can we continue on the legacy... by joe gonzalez joegon@umich.edu This trip has been, without a doubt, the most enjoyable teaching experience I have ever had. I like teaching, but too often I feel as if I have little-to-no impact on my students outside of the classroom. They come, they learn, they stay a while, but that is it. This course was different. Here, I got to know the students well, and I also got to see the impact that each stop, each new experience had on them. I cannot forget it. I got to know each of them well, their interests, their idiosyncrasies: Alberto, the quiet, committed student from Nebraska; Mimi, the gifted artist, proud of her African-American and Native American heritages; Jordan, the most quiet person I have ever met, whose silence conceals a commitment to the environment and long history of travel in Africa; Jeb, the budding writer from Westchester county, whose sense of humor -- and fairness -- I admire; Debra, the student -- and practitioner -- of social activism, who has the ingenuity to design her own major; Juliana, from Singapore, exceptionally perceptive about the ways of Americans and a singular joy to be with; Patricia, completely unpretentious and aggressively friendly, who never let the group -- or me -- forget Jordan; Zack, the social activist, whose group, SOLE, forced the University to commit itself to ending its support of sweatshop labor; Michael, the tech wizard and budding entrepreneur, who will one day give Bill Gates a run for his money; Alyssa and Natalie, my two fellow history graduate students, who bravely chose to go with us on our experiment, rather than rest during their spring breaks; Hilary, one of the best friends I have; and, my wife, Teresa, who made the trip worthwhile for me. I will never forget any of you. by hilary greer hgreer@umich.edu Coming soon. by juliana kua julianak@umich.edu I felt lost when I first got back from this trip. How was I supposed to revert back to the mundane constant struggle of going to classes and doing my work, when I had had such a fantastic experience during this one week? If nothing else, I think it is fair to say I was apprehensive before I went on this trip. It had not helped that my international friends had cooed that I was so brave to embark on this unknown journey, especially with people I did not know, and a culture I did not share. And my American friends, conversely, had been admonishing me for wasting my spring break by taking a class. But I was right. ( I have always wanted to say this in print. ) The knowledge I gained is immeasurable. Just like the rest of the class, I learnt a lot about the race relations of America, past and present. Our first hand experience with the Ku Klax Klan scared the wits out of me. I seriously thought I was going to die. I was so obviously Asian! And even if they let my unnatural, recently- dyed-red hair and natural fair skin go, once I opened my mouth, no one could mistake me for an American. Unless they were deaf and blind. That night was one of the most enlightening moments in my short life. It had been easy to remove myself from the racism I was learning about. I was Chinese! And a Foreigner! And in Singapore, I am essentially white ­ we were the majority, and we were richer than the other races. But suddenly I was transplanted into a situation that made me the target. And all kinds of thoughts began to race through my mind. Foremost was that racism feeds on itself. Because I feared the KKK, I could not help but be unsure about other whites I met. I knew that was not fair, but I just could not help it! And questions arose, perplexing ones that I had no answer to. How can these people hate so much? The more I learn about other cultures in Umich, the more certain I am that every culture is beautiful. How do the Colored people of this country live with this ever-present racist cloud? I can always run home, but this is their home. How torn the Afro-Americans at the Motel 6 front desk must have felt when they had to check in people with Confederate flags on their backs. But yet, it was this situation that made me see what a wonderful bunch of people I was with. Joe was his usual encouraging self, Patricia gave me a comforting, smothering hug, Alberto tolerated my whining, and Debra -- she took my hand when she knew I was afraid of walking into the Confederate Rally -- even after she had been told that she may now be the target for being friends with me. Maybe it really needs such evil in the world for good to truly be appreciated. Yes, the purpose of this trip was to learn about race relations. But more than that, I learnt about people. Some of the magic may be due to the fact that we were only together for a week, but I like to think that it was also because the people on this trip were beautiful. The cheerfulness and the cooperative spirit during the trip were a wonder to behold. Even with the sheer cacophony of people on this trip, we got along! Joe, I am "adamant" that you were "crucial" to the trip. But that does not mean that the others were not. I learnt how a smile can light up one’s life, especially when it is on the face of one of the rare Americans who is smaller than me. J I learnt that Asians on American TV are always accompanied by kung-fu. Well, at least, they win. And I like my roommate. I learnt that sometimes the situation makes you a person you do not want to be. I learnt that Israelis were louder than Americans. I learnt about Native American history and tribal calls. I learnt that some future politician/journalist possesses the most initiative I have ever known a person could have. And he looks Bee-gee-ish in Debra’s denim jacket. And he likes cheesy music. J I learnt a teeny bit of salsa.(much better music! ) I learnt about some father’s hardships and my heart went out to him. And that other people on the trip missed home too. I learnt that some person who cannot park loves to use the word "absolutely". And that his heart is in the right place. And that some person who does not usually wear pink has one of the biggest hearts I know. I learnt that an extremely intelligent and unique person will hold my hand when she hears I am scared. And the first- ever social activist I met is the first guy I have seen wear a toe- ring so well, and is so much fun. And the quietest people in the world have some of the world’s greatest experiences. Rwanda? Burundi? South Africa? Dominican Republic? Haiti? Anyone? I learnt that I was with a group of people who took time out of their spring break to learn about others, but yet were determined to have fun at the same time. I will never forget this trip, guys. Whether or not we keep in touch, it does not matter. It will be one of my most treasured memories of my 4 years here, even when I am back in faraway Singapore. by alyssa picard picarda@umich.edu The problem with budget accommodations is that you never know when the Klan will move in next door. That's what happened today while Natalie, Teresa and I were at the Montgomery International Airport renting a car. By the time I found out about it, we were all sitting down for alligator at Gator's Plaza Restaurant, a Cajun place with an excellent, if risqué, blues band recording live tonight. Actually, it's not totally clear that the guys downstairs are, in fact, the Klan. But this weekend is the 35th anniversary of the Bloody Sunday march across the Edmund Pettus bridge, and these guys were carrying armloads of Confederate flags and some suspicious-looking white satin robes, so you do the math. At dinner, we took a long look at our group and realized that not one of us would escape the scrutiny of the Klan guys. Joe and Teresa are practicing Buddhists, Hilary works for a progressive housing organization in Ann Arbor, Juliana, Alberto and Natalie are from outside the US, Jeb, Debra, Michael, and Zack are Jewish, and Mimi's ancestors are indigenous to the US. Jordan wasn't at the restaurant, but as I write this he's wearing a "Citizen of the World" T-shirt, which strikes me as anti-Klannish. My father is Catholic. Patricia -- well, Patricia might qualify. It depends on whether or not previous romantic congress with a member of a mongrel race is an automatic out. In thinking about it, it's not clear to me what these guys are planning to do with themselves if they get their white nation. Eat spam and mayonnaise on white bread and look at each other? Listen to dead air on the radio? Do without the gunpowder and paper that came from the Chinese, the mathematics that originated with the Egyptians, the Native languages that helped the US win World War II? They are patently willing to forego the nonviolent resistance that originated with Gandhi. I might find a cross burning in my front yard for pointing this out, but even in the absence of a moral mandate to love our fellow man, which has been delivered to us cloaked in so many guises I barely know how to count them, there is no people on Earth inventive enough to sustain themselves for the next millennium without some serious cultural miscegenation. I am not blind to the danger that the Klan poses to each of us here in Alabama. At the Southern Poverty Law Center today, we had to go through a metal detector to enter the building. At the end of our tour, when the group moved to leave, I split off to go to the ladies' room. By the time I rejoined the group, our guide had radioed the security desk to let them know that someone had disappeared and was wandering around the building unescorted. She told us that Klan members come in full regalia to stand by the Maya Lin civil rights memorial outside the building. Sometime in the 1980s, Klan members trying to destroy evidence of their activities firebombed the SPLC's offices. Tough luck for the Klan: the SPLC keeps its files in fireproof containers. More important to me as a teacher is the challenge the presence of the Klan poses to the philosophy of love and nonviolence our students seem to have embraced. If we believe in the power of nonviolent persuasion, how come we're not downstairs helping the Klansmen understand the varieties of logical fallacy? Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote: The nonviolent resister never lets this idea go, that there is something within human nature that can respond to goodness. So that a Jesus of Nazareth or a Mohandas Gandhi, can appeal to human beings and appeal to that element of goodness within them, and a Hitler can appeal to the element of evil within them. But we must never forget that there is something within human nature that can respond to goodness, that man is not totally depraved; to put it in theological terms, the image of God is never totally gone. ("Love, Law and Civil Disobedience," November 16, 1961) King taught the power of agape, which "is a love in which the individual seeks not his own good, but the good of his neighbor. Agape does not begin by discriminating between worthy and unworthy people, or any qualities people possess -- It is an entirely 'neighbor-regarding concern for others,' which discovers the neighbor in every man it meets." ("An Experiment in Love," 1958) When I read things like this, I'm amazed that King ever got his own national holiday, because his religious philosophy was and remains opposed to US foreign and domestic policy, and indeed to secularity itself, on nearly every level . He was a radical, and his message has grown no less radical with time. But more importantly, I wonder if our students have found, or will find, some way to reconcile their admiration for King's philosophy of love with their visceral hatred of the Klan. If they have, I wish they would share it with us. by natalie rothman nrothman@umich.edu As I write these lines I'm already back in my room in Lloyd Hall, enjoying the relative comfort, privacy, and accessibility of bathroom facilities our residence hall offers. Not that there's anything wrong with sharing a bathroom with 13 other people (or 6, on some of the better days in the past week...). But I shouldn't be complaining, really. For one, the rest of the clan (this word now has a funny sound to it, don't you think?), if they haven't been stopped in Alabama by some separatists/supremacists/racists are still probably driving back north. And besides, the discomfort was totally worth it: Though I came on this tour as an instructor, I feel that I learned from it as much as everyone else. And when I say "learned" I mean experiential learning. Here are selected examples: I experienced Tornado Warning while on the way to the airport with Alyssa & Teresa (and thereafter spent over an hour reading stupid magazines on the floor of win dixie waiting for the alarm to go off); I learned how to navigate on the highway (and proved wrong all those evil spirits who ever claimed I was a lost case); While in Mississippi I saw more churches of every Christian denomination than I ever imagined existed - especially for a region that has more trailers than actual houses; And, unlike Joe, I am now convinced beyond doubt that Elvis had a terrible taste in furnitures - did I mention the fur ceilings? But, apart from the trivia and the 5 additions to my list of American states I've been to (hey, it's a national sport here, so let international students join the party!), I have learned some important and moving lessons about political commitment. I learned it from the museums, from the southern roadsides, from the wonderful people who came to talk to us in different places. But even more so, I learned it from the amazing group of students who went on this trip and made it what it was. Now, I know that I haven't always been the most patient, cooperative person in the group. And even though Joe says it's crucial, I often couldn't help but voice my opinions, even when no one else was really in the mood to hear them. Maybe it's the critical graduate student in me, and maybe it's just me. I take this opportunity to apologize to whomever felt offended. I honestly meant well. I hope we can all agree that disagreement does not necessarily mean disrespect. Finally, many times this past week I thought to myself what it would take to have a similar trip back home, in Israel. In my home country, it seems to me, we are still worlds apart from any real confrontation with the blunt ethnic and social discrimination that permeates Israeli society. In this very moment, my government violates the basic civil and human rights of millions of people -- it's own non-Jewish citizens, as well as those of neighboring Lebanon and many many stateless Palestinian refugees in the Occupied Territories and the diaspora. Too often, the solutions offered by both Jews and Palestinians are nationalist-separatist, denying any possibility of equality and shared future in a democratic state that will belong to all its citizens. It's very depressing to think that what mainstream liberal American has realized decades ago, that there's no such thing as "separate but equal" is still not obvious to even good-intentioned people in Israel. By saying this I am not implying that America has realized Martin Luther King's vision. All I'm saying is that the civil rights movement should be taken for what it has been: a model and an inspiration for many different humanist struggles - in its drive, in its non-violent practices, and -- perhaps most significantly -- in its ability to build bridges and form a community that was based on a shared road, not shared blood. by alberto sanchez-aparicio albertos@umich.edu Well it is the last day, and we are driving towards Ann Arbor on interstate 75. I really cannot believe that we have been on the road for ten days, or that I will be in class tomorrow morning. Yet, thinking back on the trip, I know that I made the right decision when I decided to get on the bus. I really don't have a favorite part. Every single stop had something special to offer. In the King Center, the films that were shown were very inspirational, yet they still made an effort to show that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was also a man. In the National Civil Rights Museum the exhibits were so full of information that I wished I could have stayed the whole day. The Birmingham Civil Rights institute offered information on other civil rights movements, with an emphasis on African American movement of the 1960's. In Montgomery, at the Southern Poverty Law Center, we got to sing We Shall over come with civil rights leaders and congressmen. We also got to hear Mrs. Coretta Scott King. It was great ending to a wonderful class. Beyond the great learning experience, I really got close to my companions. While it was clear that we shared different political views, we still had a great deal of things to learn from each other. I learned a great deal, just by listening to other peoples' side of a topic like the protest of the SCC in the University of Michigan. I also got to see how the Jewish community works and what types of things blend this culture together. I even learned a little about Singapore. If I had one complaint is towards the driving. It seemed that we took it too seriously. First some people always wanted to drive, while other did not touch the wheel at all. So, if anything I wished that could be more defined. To anyone interested in learning more about the civil rights movement of the 1960's, I would encourage them to get on the bus. They will see that this issue is much more complex and interesting than any book or film could possibly cover. Even if you are not that into history, just the experience is worth the time and money. by zack schulman zschulma@umich.edu The Bus Trip has been over for nearly two weeks, but I continue to think about it on a regular basis. It comes up all the time in conversation, it seeps into my mind while meeting with SOLE, and it sets the mood of meetings with Jeb, Debra, and Michael about our yet unformed group. That group is what I will primarily be talking about here, since the Bus Trip was instrumental in its formation. Since coming to U of M, I have noticed that the Jewish community here is in many ways polarized; one segment cares, the other does not. Debra, Jeb, Michael, and myself are all Jewish, and we all are in some way concerned with and to some degree acting on our desires for social justice. Furthermore, we are all disappointed in the way many Jews on campus are apathetic towards various activist movements; movements that were wholeheartedly embraced by leaders of the Jewish community just thirty or forty years ago. See, we were at the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee and there was an exhibit about the intersection of Jews and Afro-American and their struggles for equality in America. Here we were reminded of how major American Jews were intimately involved in the struggle for civil rights, and we questioned American Jews of today: what happened? Why are we, as a people, so less involved? What can we do as informed Jewish American youth, to remind our people of where we came from and why it is our obligation to continue to pursue justice. We are now back at school and just beginning to take action on our ideas (remember, as Edward Abby said "Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul.") Together we are forming a group that will in someway, directly or indirectly, work for social justice. Some ideas that we have thrown on the table have ranged from going into predominantly Jewish fraternities and sororities and talking with them about ways that they can become more justice-oriented to possibly forming a dialogue between Jewish groups on campus and campus groups that deal with issues facing people of color. Where we go from here is up in the air. Thank you Joe, thank you Bus, thank you Debra, Michael, and Jeb, thank you everyone. by jeb singer jlsinger@umich.edu "Where's the camera?" he asks just a split second before locating it. Misplacing this multi-thousand dollar piece of technology would probably not be the preferable manner to end this journey. But with the camera same and sound and in Michael's soft hands, I can stop worrying. Instead, I find this to be an appropriate juncture for me to think about how ideal of an ending yesterday's Faith & Politics event was for this trip. One of my main objectives for joining the get on the bus course was to do something unique and memorable. I would not hesitate to say that yesterday's finale alone qualifies as such. I cannot recall another moment in my young life in which I have been able to put aside all other thoughts and just sing about how great it is to be free. The fact that so many people of so many races and sexes (well only two I guess) were determined to join hands and praise their gifts and inspirations was quite uplifting. I hope above all that this trip is remembered for a couple of reasons. Namely, I would like to recall the excellent manner in which our randomly selected group worked and played together, and I would like to repeat the ideals that made this nation so great. This to me was the objective of the trip and I do believe I've experienced it first-hand. So as we prepare to roll into Ann Arbor in not more than fourty-five minutes, I intend to enjoy these last moments on the bus. To try to put into perspective everything that we've come into contact with during the last nine days would be trying to bottle up years of oppression, struggles and opposition to power. Hopefully, over time I will look back on this web site and the memories I've stored and be able to understand better the significance of what we've studied. I certainly think that the past nine days has created more curiosity. One of the most interesting experiences for me actually did not occur in any of the civil rights museums but rather at a southern party rally. During this rally I did not hear the speakers screaming for more Negro oppression or white supremacy as I thought I might have. I actually inquired to a member of the audience holding a confederate flag exactly what the group stood for. I understand that the central theme behind the rally was secession from the US and representation of the confederate flag. Of course, it is difficult for me to judge whether or not these peoples intentions are really so innocent or not. The point is that all throughout history people make assumptions. I'm sure that it is entirely impossible that various members of the southern party exercise racism. However, I am not at this point ready to refer to these peoples as "Klansmen" as I was inclined to do before the conversation. I do strongly disagree with some of his ideals and still find the confederate flag offensive. I did not get into an argument his this individual because he was on his own turf but also because I did not know enough about his group of people. Many racists never attempt to learn about the people they are oppressing. This is what is so troubling. As long as ignorance still ignorance, so will racism. Ignorance is not bliss. Rather education is the way toward equality. I am happy to have been educated. by michael simon mbsimon@umich.edu Coming soon. by patricia welsh pwelsh@umich.edu Coming soon. by jordan zylstra jzylstra@umich.edu Coming soon.

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