A place of historical and cultural significance — that is what comes to mind when I think of the Martin Luther King Museum. So much history put together in one place is almost mind-blowing. This trip back down memory lane is sometimes met with unidentifiable emotions. These emotions may include anger or sadness, but whatever the case may be, one can say that this museum is one that displays the challenges Americans have fought through, and are still fighting today.
It was late July 2012, the reason for taking a trip to Atlanta was never clear to me, but who would turn down a free trip. It took about 10 hours to get there. I didn’t know if It was my excitement that kept me anxious to get there, or if it was just my bladder that had been in pain for the last couple of hours. Once we got there, and after I used a bathroom at a random gas station, we stopped at Martin Luther King Jr.’s house. His house was fairly close to the museum, so it would only be fitting if we also saw the house on our way. Once we got there, I immediately ran to the front door to go inside. I imagined the house to be a little more luxurious. This house slightly reminded me of my grandmother's, very southern style and historic. Although we couldn’t see inside because we didn’t schedule a tour, we still used our time wisely and explored the outside. I noticed the brown sidings and the neatly cut grass around the house. It gave me an ere feeling to imagine the things that this house has seen. I remember reading somewhere that while Martin Luther King was home, a prejudiced group of people threw a brick through his front window. It was very surreal to see that window, fixed and unbothered. The people that harmed this yellow, two-story house had malicious intent on harming the family who harbored inside. It seemed as if the time of the past and the time of the present merged together, and you could feel and almost see all of the history that this one place possessed. Soon, the past subsided and I was left with the feeling of wanting to know more.
After arriving at the museum, I found myself not as excited as I was for the house. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what to expect. So much of the past was there and at the time, I felt that I didn’t know as much as I should have to even be given the privilege to be there. Instead of being discouraged, I decided to enter this experience with an open mind in hope of learning more knowledge than I came with. The first thing that I saw when I stepped foot onto the property was this colorful mural filled with the black community, standing together, in what I would believe to be the fight against racism. It displayed the idea that we all can stand together to overcome anything. The most prominent color in the painting was red — maybe red stood for the passion they had. We continued inside the building and came across open rooms filled with hundreds of pictures of people marching and protesting. Plus, the numerous newspapers with headlines such as, “Court Bans Segregation” and “Rev. King Slain by Sniper.”
We continued through the museum, it was extremely dark with spotlights highlighting the important work that it displays. Some pieces included pictures of King along with some of his many quotes. Words could not describe the intense feeling of passion that came with seeing so many pictures of a movement that was constantly being torn apart by people that couldn’t stand to see change. The museum also had its graphic parts, displaying people being beaten and taken into custody. At the time, I did not understand what they could possibly be getting arrested for, and even today, I still don’t know the answer to that question.
One of the most impactful things in the museum to me, was the set of statues lined up to reenact a march. The best part about it was that not all the statues were the same color. You had some that were dark skinned, and other were either white or had a light complexion. While looking at the display, I noticed an older black woman standing on the other side of it. She was crying immensely while be comforted by her daughter. I went and stood next to her, hoping I could see what was wrong. The women saw me and immediately began informing me on why this piece of art is so significant. She told me, “This is what we went through child. Many died in these marches. So many lives lost. So many of the young kids today don’t appreciate the sacrifice we made so you guys could be treated equally. Don’t take it for granted little boy.” I told her wouldn’t and then ran off to catch up with my aunt. I think about that woman who was crying every day.
After leaving the museum, there was one more monument that my aunt wanted to see before we headed back to the hotel, and that was the grave site of Martin Luther King Jr. I felt almost uneasy going to see it. Maybe it was because I couldn’t tell if he was actually inside of the tomb. The grave site was extremely beautiful, it was filled with waterfalls, lights and flowers. Martin was buried right next to his wife, Coretta. Both of their tombs set in the middle of a huge fountain. See, all of this made me wonder if King knew he would receive all of this. Did he know how important he was to society? Did he know that his life would be taken from him by the people that he was trying to gain acceptance from? These questions will always remain unanswered, but what I do know is that his death will not be in vain.
This trip is significant to me because this was indeed the turning point in my life where I realized the importance of my race. Growing up, I always felt being black was almost a burden. I remember being in class with kids who constantly pointed out their heritage saying, “I have white people in my family.” As if it was a privilege to be anything other than black, and that the only way to be proud to be black was to be mixed with something else. Another reason I felt being black was a burden was because in elementary school, teachers always talked about segregation as if we were the problem. They never explained how the world was wrong about us, and how we fought with a greater purpose. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to see the museum and I recommend that all children, no matter what race or location, gets the opportunity to see this marvelous museum and hopefully realize that being black is not a burden, but a privilege.
