When we pulled into Birmingham, Alabama we all felt it. Maybe it was just goose bumps… but I’d like to believe that when I stood still and yet felt myself moving, it was more than just a breeze.

Samford University was the second school on our route, which was welcoming our presence. Upon arrival, we all commented on the beautiful landscape of the campus, the aesthetic charm that emanated from landscape designs and water fountains. A few of us arrived early to speak to a sociology class about our experiences and to answer any questions that might arise. I could hear my own heartbeat echoing through my body when we pulled up to campus as I scribbled on a notepad the things I felt were necessary to say.

In class, one by one the four of us (Angel, Casey, Josh, and myself) shared our stories and answered questions from the class. They watched us with wide eyes and while there were fewer than twenty in the class, I felt as though I was speaking to a generation of young adults, much like myself, often discontent with current conditions but too often left confused.

With that in mind, we proceeded to attend a forum in which four Equality Riders were the panelists. They spoke to an audience for which there were not enough seats. To our surprise, the students had just as many questions for their administration as they did for us. In some way, issues were danced around in regards to the execution of Samford policies because the faculty seemed somewhat hesitant to address our questions in reference to policies that fine individuals for committing “homosexual acts.” As the session grew to a close, one of the administrators at Samford had made it clear that the school merely prohibited any sexual activity outside the confines of marriage. One of our riders stood and introduced two other riders who were legally married in California. He continued by asking, “Would they, being a married couple, a marriage that was blessed by their congregation, be able to openly attend this university?” The administrator said that he could not speak for the entire school and declined to answer the question. However, throughout the day many students were discussing their ideas of what that answer would have been.

I was fortunate enough to have been part of the human rights presentation that was given at the law school. My group and I tried to utilize the innumerable movements through human, and specifically, American history that were generated because of a need for basic equality. We tried in many ways to provide information that would be useful to students who were pursing a career in law, highlighting the lack of housing, employment and protection that is provided for members of the LGBT community. We talked about Jesus, whom we believe to have been the first and greatest example of a human rights activist, a radical, a revolutionary.

While the visit was productive, with many opportunities for us to serve as a voice for a continually silenced community, it felt unfinished. I think about the physicality of the campus, complete with water fountains and well-nurtured trees. It is beautiful. It was very much like the community at Samford, beautiful, charming on a somewhat surface level. It felt too nice, too beautiful, like the fountains and green were merely providing an illusion to cover a more darker reality. Through many conversations on campus I heard repeated times that “Samford is very liberal and this doesn’t seem like much of a problem here” while I looked into the faces of closeted students on campus whose body language told me otherwise.

We were welcomed and engaged in dialogue but I felt as though I left a community that in some ways refused to see beyond the fountains, dig beneath the hills of green. I felt myself continually wanting to ask questions that created that necessary tension that would elicit growth beyond these seemingly beautiful gardens. I thought perhaps that I was being unfair and too quickly making assumptions. Then again, I was looking around at a campus of an overwhelming white majority in a city that is home to a more diverse demographic.

To complete our stay, we visited the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute this morning. I walked around in silence, listening to the recordings of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Fred Shuttlesworth. I gazed at pictures of young black school children entering buildings with bystanders screaming at them. Standing there staring at a piece of one of the original buses from the Freedom Rides, I began feeling that same sensation that was felt when we pulled into, what my fellow rider would call, “the human rights holy land.” Those goose bumps started once again to rise, while we stood at the corner of the 16th Street Baptist Church. I could, again, simply say that it was just the breeze but that wouldn’t explain the whispers I felt at my ears, moving my heart, and leading me on. And with a shudder I boarded the bus, leaving behind an unfinished but bellowing Birmingham.

NB: This journal is PART TWO of a two-part blog on our Sit-in at SBTS. The first half of the day is recounted by a Rider who was jailed. Sorry for any confusion, and I’ll post the first day as soon as I can. – Ed.

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Ten of the 22 Equality Riders who had participated in the sit-in left the office of Dr. Mohler voluntarily and were not arrested, while 12 of the riders stayed in an act of peaceful civil disobedience. Those who left voluntarily walked to the edge of campus and stood on the public sidewalk in support of the riders who stayed. Once we were off campus and standing on public property, we sang songs and spoke with members of the media who had gathered to cover the story.

The 12 Riders who stayed were arrested for trespassing and driven away in police vehicles, including: Rachel, Bronwen, Angel, Robin, Abby, Casey, Mandy, Curt, Josh, Bram, Brandy, and Amanda.

After they were driven away, we walked to a nearby Starbucks to regroup and use the internet. Jarrett Lucas spoke with Phoenix from the Kentucky Fairness Alliance, who was able to round up supporters to meet us back at the school for a vigil. Around 5 pm, we gathered on the edge of campus holding signs that said “God made me gay on purpose”, “honk for fairness” and other similar messages. We received a lot of supportive honks and waves. We received a lot more honks of support than I expected; it was encouraging.

Later we went to downtown Louisville and had dinner while we waited for the Riders who had been arrested to be released. Several people at the restaurants we were at recognized us from the local media coverage and came up to thank us for our efforts. By 11pm, all of the Riders who had been arrested had been released, except for Angel Collie. The bus took everyone back to the hotel, but Jarrett Lucas and I waited at the jail for Angel’s release. For some reason it took several more hours and he wasn’t released until 3:30 AM, even though he had been charged with the same offense and brought in with the rest of the group. The explanation that was given was that it had taken longer to verify his address. We took a cab back to the hotel and went to bed.

It was a long and exhausting day, but I’m glad we were able to take a stand against Mohler’s comments. I went to bed content with our efforts and thankful for the support we received from the local community members. Moehler’s comments were so out of line and immoral that I believe they required a dramatic response. Our sit-in helped to bring more attention to how dangerous his remarks were and it was clear that many people in Louisville agreed.

More has happened in the last 48 hours than I could have ever anticipated; Mississippi has successfully created an unforgettable earmark in the Ride for me.

As we approached the school Thursday morning I was still recovering from the 8 hour drive a small group of us Equality Riders had made the night before from Waco, TX, reuniting those who had sat in jail for 25 hours after our Baylor University civil disobedience, with the rest of our group. So much tension was already created by the duplicity of the (MC) Mississippi College administration and various threats on our physical safety delivered to the Clinton law enforcement, I was unsure of what to expect from our visit.

When we pulled up into Mississippi College’s campus, there was a steady stream of people lining the streets as we drove up to our stop and more standing on a grassy hill across from where we were exiting the bus, larger than we’d ever experienced before on the East bus. I had spoken several days before to Stephen about participating in the civil disobedience, and I knew that it was only at this point in the ride that I was fully prepared mentally to do so. We left the bus and were immediately read a statement of warning that if we were to step onto MC property we would be guilty of trespassing and immediately arrested. In response we held hands as a group and walked towards the hill of students, media, and police to stand on the sidewalk in front of them and begin our vigil.

After singing several songs, in an eerie concert surrounded by watching eyes, Enku began to describe his background and why he was a part of the ride. He continued to speak to the injustice and cruelty of policies that MC has against gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered individuals on campus and how that affects the entire communities’ perception as well. Eventually, he and Vince Pancucci held up a large frame surrounding photographed smiling faces of the East Bus Equality riders when we were children. He pointed out individual riders, naming them for the crowd and stated that he and Vince intended to bring this picture of God’s beloved children to the foot of the statue of Jesus on campus. They took several steps forward and were immediately arrested in front of the crowd. Katie and I followed, walking to students.

Earlier, while Enku was speaking, I had heard a male student in front of me speaking loudly to his friend of his views on homosexuality. He was rehearsing verses and I perceived him to be uninterested in the heart of our ride. So after the initial arrests I walked directly towards him, extended my hand and introduced myself to engage him in a way he didn’t anticipate. I wanted him to know I had walked onto campus to speak with him, and specifically him. As the policemen placed handcuffs on my wrists I stood in front of him while he professed his love for “homosexuals” and true hopes for me to find the right path. Before I was led away, all I could manage to say to him was that I believe I am.

Vince, Enku, Katie and I were taken away to be booked at the police department after being led through a siege of reporters. Kyle would follow a little later, and after our release, other riders would describe the shock that students expressed regarding our arrests, all made as a result of our intent to engage in conversation with students.

We were booked quickly and politely, all of the police officers extending kindnesses to us that were the exact reversal of what the riders in Waco, TX had experienced. For this I was grateful but conflicted that I would be the one to receive such treatment while my friends endured genuine trespasses and lack of recognition of their humanity.

Delayed until 5pm from 1pm when we had anticipated seeing the judge initially, we were notified that we must have a trial instead of a simple ruling on our bail amount. A police officer gathered us and brought us to the court where urgently escorted to a conversation with our court-assigned lawyer and a local lawyer who is an open lesbian in the community. With great seriousness they outlined the dire changes that had occurred in the last hour. Our lawyer had spoken to the judge and realized his intentions in our case—intentions to increase our consequences-especially as second-time trespassing offenders. They informed us minutes before we were to stand before the judge that he had every intention of giving us jail time—the maximum penalty for criminal trespassing was up to 6 months.

I was unable to process the magnitude of these words very well, and as they barreled on, we were informed that our best option would be to plead guilty (which had been our intent) and to profusely apologize to the court for our inconvenience to the city of Clinton. This we could agree on, because as a non-violent group we recognize our adversary is not the law enforces nor the administrators but the ignorance and misinformation that perpetuates the policies and beliefs that oppress people. Katie agreed to be a voice for the five of us and we entered the courtroom, my heart in my throat, banging against my rib cage.

I had been in courtrooms before, but this vague concept of jail time had never held any power over me until now. As the hearing proceeded I began to count on my fingers how long it would be until I was out of jail, if I received the maximum time, “March to April, April to May, May to June, June to July, July to August, August to September.” I would be out in September. I wondered if Casey would think to call my Mom and Dad to let them know, or if I would have to call them on the house phone. In those few moments, I thought of Gandhi, and King, and Mel White and became reconciled to the possibility that I may go to jail in a few minutes and I would be ok. The judges questioning did not help my attempt to hope we would escape without great legal injury as he continually emphasized a metaphor of punishment, “When a child refuses to learn from a punishment the first time, do you not increase the consequences?”

In the end, to our great relief, Enku and Kyle were sentenced with 10 days of jail, suspended granted they stay out of trouble for the next 2 years. Katie, Vince, and I had prior trespassing charges and were sentenced with 20 days in jail, suspended granted we stay out of trouble for the next 2 years plus 4 days (weekdays) of community service here in Clinton, Mississippi

After having processed the last 8 hours with Curt and Abby few minutes to the side, we headed back to find the group and get back the bus. As we searched, all of us unfamiliar with the area, we came to where the bus was only to see it being directed away from us by a patrol car with flashing lights. As we were leaving Clinton, the bus was pulled over three times within 5 minutes, concluding with a grand finale of the policemen iterating something to the effect of “get out of town, now.” That is all I need to hear, and I know we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

In summation, at the end of our second day in Jackson I don’t know what emotions I am feeling. They are foreign and heavy and real. I don’t know if I am afraid, but I cannot help but feel the growing momentum as a sign that this is only the beginning. As Robin said in our meeting later that night, “it’s only going to get worse”.

And so I am searching in myself for the strong moveless places and for pieces of peace. They are the reasons that I am here in the first place and I realize as circumstances intensify, that when I signed up for this ride I was saying I would give my complete commitment. I have become increasingly committed to this ride as I am grown and deeply moved in deep places of myself. I know I was ready to go to jail for six months for this cause, and this is what I’ll remember as we continue on the ride.

Today was my first day of community service. There was a lot of talk about our safety, because we didn’t know anything about the nature of the work or people we’d be with, but it was an amazing surprise. We worked with the Clinton Parks and Recreation facility management and met great people who talked with us, worked beside us, and stood up for us throughout the day. Clinton has potential for slow change in its deepest parts and it gives me the greatest hope.

Katie, Vince, and I will be remaining behind the group in Clinton, Mississippi from Monday until Wednesday this next week while we complete our community service hours. It is a struggle to know we will be doing fine and recuperating somewhat here while the rest of our group goes on to two other stops without us. I’m torn from my happiness about the beauty of our situation and opportunities while we stay and Clinton and my inability to support the rest of our bus family while they persist in the ride without us beside them.