Lost in all of the cross-country funerals and memorial services for Rosa Parks – in Montgomery, Ala., the site of the famous 1955 bus boycott and launch pad for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s career as a civil rights leader; in Washington, D.C. where Rosa Parks became their first woman to lie in state beneath the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol and, finally, in Detroit, her adopted hometown – was the depth of indignity caused by being forced to sit in the back of the bus.

Without a doubt, Rosa Parks was a courageous lady. But to fully understand why she did what she did, you would have had to walk in her footsteps and sit where she sat – in the back of the bus. I know because I, too, am an Alabama native and of all of my childhood memories of segregation, one of the most painful involved bypassing empty seats up front and either sitting or standing behind a white line in the rear of the bus.

The scars are deep; I couldn’t have been more than 4 when I recognized, even at that innocent age, something was amiss. I couldn’t articulate exactly what it was, but I knew it wasn’t right. African-Americans, no matter how educated or well-dressed had to, by custom and by law, scramble to the back of the bus while the most ignorant and useless White person could sit up front.

I had a part-time job in high school in the early 1960s washing dishes at the University of Alabama. One afternoon en route to work, Clarence “Boot” Hurst, a schoolmate who also worked in the dishroom, said, “Let’s sit in the front.” I agreed and that’s exactly what we did. The driver said, “You boys know you’re not supposed to sit up here.” We didn’t say a word and the driver kept going. When we got ready to get off at our stop, a White man drew a knife and told us we couldn’t exit through the front door. We hesitated and then left through the back door, content that we had proven our point. We were scared during the whole ride, but on that particular day, we were going to take our chances. That’s why I can relate to Rosa Parks’ decision on that cold December day in 1955 not to give up her seat to a White man. I am not suggesting for a moment that our one-day protest was on par with the contributions of Rosa Parks. But I am stating that, as they like to say in sports, on any given day, African-Americans found ways to challenge the system.

That challenge was formalized several years later when Rev. T.Y. Rogers, president of the local Southern Christian Leadership Conference chapter, organized a boycott of the city bus system. SCLC organized car pools that mirrored the city’s bus routes and drivers picked up passengers along the way and took them to their destination – for free. By not charging, no one could accuse us of operating a taxis service without a license. My family didn’t own a car at the time, but I borrowed my Uncle Percy’s car so that I could be part of the action. At the end of the day, Miss Dot and other women had cooked us a pot of food at the First African Baptist Church, our rallying point. We would hold mass meetings there and get reenergized for our boycott campaign.

Unable to withstand the pressure, officials were forced out of business. When service was eventually resumed by another company, seating was on a desegregated basis.

Segregated seating on city buses was just one aspect of America’s version of apartheid.
Another vivid memory of that era also revolved around transportation. Before, during and after the bus boycott, my mother did domestic work across town. She was considered good enough to cook for a prominent White family and care for their kids. Yet, when it was time to bring my mother home, she had to ride in the back seat.

The sight of my mother riding in the back seat caused me to vow at a very early age that neither I nor my three younger sisters would be subjected to that kind of humiliation. We were going to go to college – I didn’t know how at the time – and education would be our ticket out. We were determined to break the chains – and we did. Now, if you see one of us sitting in the back seat, it’s because we’re being chauffeured.

Rosa Parks is being described in various news accounts as a seamstress. As Jesse Jackson observed in Montgomery, she didn’t get arrested for sewing. Rosa Parks was arrested for taking a stand by sitting down.

And for those who had to sit in the back of those buses, she gave us a better view of the world.