Claudette Colvin (15 page)

C
LAUDETTE:
When Fred Gray called our house in January, we were all surprised. The boycott was almost two months old, and I hadn't heard from any of the leaders since it started, not even Rosa Parks. I was seven months pregnant. But we told him to come on out.

He arrived one evening with his secretary, Bernice. We sat around the coffee table in our living room, just as we had the year before, after I got arrested. He was still dressed in a dark suit and he still talked like a lawyer. Bernice still took dictation. The only change was my big belly. He described the case and discussed what would be expected of me if I took part. Because I was still a minor, he asked my parents if they would let me do it. Mom and Dad said yes.

Then he asked me. I was sitting on the piano stool. Bernice's fingers moved whenever I spoke. He didn't mention that there would be anyone else in the suit. I thought I was going to appear alone. As I listened, I was of two minds. In one mind I
was afraid. The way life was in the South, how could you not be afraid? You never knew who was KKK, or who would target you. Every day on the radio, I'd hear angry white callers shouting that the Communists had invaded the black churches and people had to act now.

But I was not a person who lived in fear. My mom had always said, “If God is for you, the Devil can't do you any harm,” and that's how I felt, too. We all just lived that way. And I felt that if they really needed someone, I was the right person. It was a chance for me to speak out. I was still angry. I wanted white people to know that I wasn't satisfied with segregation. Black people, too. And it didn't sound like the trial would happen until after my baby was born. You had to do what you had to do. So I said yes.

“W
E TALKED TO ALL THE FAMILY AT ONCE
,”
remembers Fred Gray, “and there was no reservation on anyone's part. I wouldn't have taken anyone with any reservation. I told them what would happen, what they would be subjected to. That there would be phone calls, there would be threats. I liked that family. They were self-sufficient. If there had been reprisals, they would have still gotten by. It took real courage to be a plaintiff in that suit. It wasn't easy. And Claudette was the youngest.”

Claudette's pastor, Rev. H. H. Johnson, makes a point at a mass meeting. Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. (left) and E. D. Nixon stand beside him

C
LAUDETTE:
After they left, my mom called our pastor, Reverend Johnson, and told him what Fred Gray had asked me to do. And my reverend came out to my home. Some of my neighbors were already afraid to talk to me. White Citizens Councils had formed to take jobs away from people who joined the boycott. I felt like no one wanted to be near me because I was so outspoken about ending segregation.

But Reverend Johnson really knew me and cared for me and stood by me. He worried about how I was going to hold up against those white people drilling me in court. He knew the terror was real. He knew what the stakes were. At my home he
took my hands very gently and said to me, “Claudette, do you really feel up to it?” And once again I heard myself say, “Yes, Reverend Johnson, I do.”

My baby was born in Montgomery on March 29, 1956. I named him Raymond, after my uncle. Velma was with me in the hospital. Raymond came out very fairskinned with blond hair and blue eyes. At the hospital, the attendants kept bringing him in and asking me the name of his father. I wouldn't tell them. They didn't believe the father was black, and they held it against me. I would cover my head up because I didn't want to hear the awful things they were saying about us. I didn't need to hear that. I loved Raymond from the moment I saw him.

I only had about six weeks after Raymond's birth to get ready for the boycott lawsuit. I wanted to get my body ready so I could fit into a good dress, and to get my mind ready, too. I rehearsed what I wanted to say. I prayed. My mother had always said, “If you can even talk to a white person without lowering your eyes you're really doing something.” Well, I was determined to do that and more. Miss Nesbitt said, “Claudette, you always wanted to be in plays, to do Shakespeare. Now here is your stage.” And she was right: I had been speaking out against injustice since ninth grade.

At night, while I would lie in bed and rehearse the things I was going to say, Raymond slept beside me in a little bassinet. It was just the two of us in the front room, him breathing or fussing or pulling at his bottle, and me thinking about what I would say at the trial. Sometimes I thought about Harriet Tubman, about her courage. I prayed I could have her kind of courage on the trial day.

Or sometimes I would imagine, Claudette, you're a Christian, and you're about to get thrown to the lions and you have one speech to give to the Senate.

That was more like it. In my imagination that courtroom seemed like the Colosseum, and it felt like I had one last speech. I was going to make the most of it.

The
Montgomery Advertiser
, February 2, 1956, front page news

Our whole strategy is based on the May 11 trial
.

—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

May 11, 1956

C
LAUDETTE
:
I woke up to the smell of coffee like any other day. Every day no matter what, Mom'd get up and make biscuits, grits, and sausage, bacon, eggs, or ham. I bottle-fed Raymond. Then Mama Sweetie came over with her daughter, Scrap, to take care of Raymond while Q.P. and I went to the trial. Mom had to work. Mama Sweetie was still a big part of my life. She had moved from Pine Level to Montgomery a few years after we had. She was about seventy now, a little more wrinkled but still petite and still kind. Just the sound of her voice in the house made me think things would be all right.

It was cool out but not rainy. I was glad I didn't have to wear a rain bonnet. I pumped milk from my breasts so that I wouldn't leak and put on my best dress, light blue with a cummerbund and a V cut. It looked good on me in the mirror. I drank my coffee slowly and thought about the day to come.

Then my cousin James Henderson pulled up to drive us to the courthouse. Before we left, we all bowed our heads and Mom said a prayer. We were around the table—me, Mom, Q.P. in his chair, Mama Sweetie, Scrap, James, and little Raymond in his bassinet. Mom prayed for me to have courage, and for Fred Gray to do his best,
and for success in defeating this horrible system. Then we all said the Lord's Prayer and we went on our way.

By the time we pulled up to the courthouse, there was already a big crowd waiting outside: men in suits and brimmed hats, and women wearing their best Sunday dresses. There were cameramen out on the sidewalk. I got out and went looking for

Fred Gray.