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Rare Ruby by
Louise Elliot
Surrounded
by the wriggling fingers of excited school children, Ruby Bridges'
face looks young and fresh - too young and fresh to belong to an icon
of the US civil rights movement. But that's because her tale of heroism
and hardship isn't all that old.
On November 14, 1960, a
6-year-old Bridges, escorted by four gun-toting US federal marshals,
walked past a screaming mob of angry white people to do the unthinkable
in New Orleans at the time: Go to school with white children.
"We think it happened
a very long time ago," the 45-year-old Bridges said yesterday
in an interview at Donwood Park Junior Public School in Scarborough.
"But if we don't take precautionary measures now, it will happen
all over again."
"It" is the civil
strife which nearly tore our nation apart when southern blacks, led
by Martin Luther King Jr., began to demand equal rights, including
equal access to a decent education. Today Bridges fights racism through
regular speaking engagements at Canadian and US Schools.
But she insist on telling
her story to children only, without reporters present, because she
believes children are the only hope for stopping racism before bigotry
has a chance to set in.
On that November day almost
40 years ago, Bridges was surrounded by bigotry. Backed by an order
from Federal District Court Judge J. Skelly Wright, she walked quietly
up the steps of William Frantz public school, past youths who were
chanting, "Two, four, six, eight! We don't want to integrate,"
past a woman threatening to "poison" her, past crosses,
placards and props designed to terrify her, including a baby-sized
coffin displaying a black doll.
Worse than the physical
threats was the isolation, Bridges says. When the school's white parents
pulled their children out in protest, she was left alone day after
day with her white, Boston born teacher, Barbara Henry. The liberal
minded Henry was the only one to alleviate that loneliness, Bridges
said.
"Having the white
teacher was absolutely new. She was whit, but she was different. If
I hadn't had her to compare the others to, maybe I be a different
person."
By her actions, Ruby helped
create the first desegregated regated school in the deep south.. After
a few months of protest, white children slowly began to return to
the school. A year later, Bridges entered Grade two without escort,
joining a class with white and black children.
Today, children aren't
as isolated by racism as she was, Bridges said, but they are still
caught up in a tornado of someone else's design. "I think they
feel like they're in the midst of it and they don't understand it."
Bridges herself couldn't
understand the anger directed at her until much later, when a young
boy told her he couldn't play with her because she was a "nigger."
"Racism is an adult disease. We should stop using our kids to
spread it."
That's why the image of
Ruby Bridges ringed by the hatred of adults - committed to canvas
in 1964 by legendary American artist Norman Rockwell - is so powerful
and so enduring and that's why Bridges begins her talk with a one-minute
film clip of herself, walking past the crowd and into the school.
Bridges speaks of the "new"
segregation of inner-city schools, both in Canada and the United States,
where poverty has created ghettoes. Ironically, her own William Frantz
school, where white once fought to keep blacks out, is now a mostly
black, mostly poor school, riddled with inner-city problems. Bridges
works there as a volunteer.
"We as adults have
to create the environment that brings these kids together," she
says, adding that during her talks to children, she wants them to
feel free to discuss a subject which is often taboo at home.
"The best ammunition
we can give kids is to tell them they are in a unique position,"
she said.
"They can do something
that we as adults haven't been seen to get past yet. They can change
the world."
Her audience offers several
rounds of applause and shows no signs of boredom after an hour and
a half, nor does Bridges. As she's surrounded by the youngsters, she
looks happy for the company.
The Toronto Star - May 25, 2000
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