Civil Rights in America

Hear the story of a Woman that has been wronged by the Courts of Missoula Montana in spite of all of her open proof. To add Insult to injury the Courts threw her in the States Mental Institution labled her as Insane in an effort that no-one would ever listen to or believe her story. In spite of the Fact that she's not Crazy but very Smart, Competent and articulate. Jackiya Ford isn't so crazy afterall hear her side of the story (The Truth Comes out) Jackiya Ford --I am a child of the Most High God who fights for Civil and Human Rights. I have been falsely accused and wronged by the Courts in the State of Missoula Montana. In spite of all of the Facts and evidence thats been provided in my case the Judge, Prosecuting Attorneys as Well as the County Attorneys continue to hide the Facts of My Case. While incarcerated the County Attorneys broke into my home stole all of my weapons, computers and any paperwork evidence that could've assisted me in my case. (total opposite than the alleged crime location that they lied and said I was living in)They created website domains calling me Crazy and Mentally ill while they sent me off to the States Mental Institution in spite of the Fact that I'm 100% Competent and Sane. While incarcerated and at the States Mental Institution I've meet so many other Sane and Innocent victims that have been falsely accused throughout the Court System here in Montana. While Incarcerated the Magistrate put in a court order to take over my body to cut my baby out of me instead of allowing me to have her naturally, and my 7 year old was taken into child custody and burried alive inside of a sandbox at her school amongst her peers as she was verbally and racially insulted. The Media has portrayed me as an enemy Combatant and a Homeland terrorist and a House theft woman as well as mocking my belief in God. They sent out Psychologist to the Jail that told me They were God over my life. The media has been paid off by the local town officials to defame my name and characture in spite of the fact that I've never had so much as a traffic ticket. Although my life is currently in danger I stand strong as a Civil and Human Rights activist just as my ancestors in spite of the Dangers I face. My Case is still ongoing. See The State of Montana vs. JACKIYA FORD its public record. http://www.archive.org/details/JackiyaD.FordMySovereignWorld http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-v6PZgAEwg

I lived in a small western Pennsylvanian town where they made pottery at, I was a 10 yr. girl. I went to the store with my brother and sister who were 5 and 7 years older than me, I was lagging behind, we came to a bridge. The bridge was about 75 feet higher than the water level, the water level was about 6 inches with pottery glass from cups and plates broken up. A group of older teenage black boys were reveling about we got civil rights, they were walking the opposite direction but towards us. They saw my brother and sister and picked them up and threw them over the bridge, my brother and sister were screaming and holding onto the sides and they were prying their fingers and then they grabbed with their other hands to keep from falling into the icy cold glass below, they were screaming, I was screaming help, help and they ran after me, I ran into a woman's home and they then ran the other way. My brother and sister were still crying for help when the woman walked me back to them. We did not know what civil rights were all about, we always played with black and white kids alike, we were all poor. It left a scar on my mind to this day that I will never forget. The kids started changing after that and started treating us like we were different from them, we were all just kids black and white alike.

‘The Police Loaded All 13 of Us in the Back of a Garbage Truck’ I was born in 1946 and grew up in Jonesboro, Louisiana. I attended school in Chatham and Jonesboro, Louisiana. Jonesboro was a segregated town and had segregated facilities for the black and white races. Growing up in Jonesboro, I experienced and endured many prejudice acts from my Caucasian brothers. After graduating from Jackson High School in 1964, I worked at various jobs in town. It was not uncommon to be subjected to racial slurs the workplace. While working at a furniture store, forgot and left the key in the ignition of the delivery truck. When my white co-worker asked me for the keys, I told him that I had left the keys in the ignition. He said, “That’s just like a nigger.” On another job while working at a drugstore, one of my duties was to medicines to the hospital one block away. I was always told the backdoor when I made my deliveries, while my white co-worker used the front door. In May of 1965, I was encouraged to join CORE (Congress Of Racial Equality). While a member of CORE, we were taught to be non-violent as we participating the integration of white establishments. Our first task was to eat lunch in the main dining room at M&D Restaurant, where only whites were allowed to eat (Blacks were permitted to eat in a small room in the back). There were 13 of of us in the CORE group as we approached the front the restaurant. We were prevent from entering by several whites blocking the doorway. We decided to backoff and go elsewhere. Our group leader decided that we se should integrate the white swimming pool. After entering the swimming pool facility, we were arrested by the police. The police loaded all 13 of us in the back of a garbage truck and transported us to the city jail. We were all placed in a 13-by-14-foot padded cell. The cell had no restroom, and we had to use a drain hole in the center of the floor to relieve ourselves. Needless to say, with 13 people in a cell that small, it was hot, crowed and unsanitary. We remained in the padded cell for 36 hours. After that, the was divided in to four and our group leader was place in a cell alone. We were detain for 72 hours and released. We were told that we had been arrested for trespassing, however no formal charges were made.

what happened to our civial rights they have been taken away during a time of war why is that andrew

My grandparents owned Union Street Grocery in Natchez, Mississippi. The store was located on a corner that marked a "division" in the neighborhood. On one side was an area of working-class black families, on the other was an area of Victorian homes owned by upper middle-class whites. All were welcomed in their store. I attended Carpenter I Elementary School, and walked to their store each afternoon, where I stayed until my parents picked me up after work. I played with the children at the Children's Home accross the street, and with the black children in the neighborhood. The word "nigger" was not foreign to me, but all of the kids got along, as did the customers in my grandparent's store. My grandfather delivered groceries to ALL homes, regardless of race. There was a home in the black neighborhood where the mother would disappear for days at a time, and the children, when hungry, would come to the store. My grandmother would recognize their situation, and once confirming that their mother was away, take groceries to the house, cook several meals ,and store them in the refridgerator. My grandparents knew they would never receive payment for the groceries, but that was not their concern. Children were hungry, and someone needed to look out for them. Many of the black families carried "store accounts" - no specific repayment terms and no interest charged. I know that many times when things were extremely tight, those account balances simply disappeared - "John, your account is all paid up." Again, families were in need, and my grandparents felt it more important to take care of the families than make a dollar. During the protest in Natchez during the early- to mid- 60s, there was some rioting. Businesses had windows broken out, and there was some looting. Among those victims were my grandparents, whose store windows were broken out by saw horses being thrown through the windows. Some people in the neighborhood looted groceries from the store, and vandalized the inside of the store. I remember my grandmother seeing the damage and, as she cried, asking why did their neigbors do this to them. She recalled how they treated everyone fairly and took care of those who needed help. They were devastated. Those are my main memories of the civil rights movement.

I was born as a white citizen in Vicksburg in 1929 and grew up in the 30's and 40's in a totally segregated society. It never occured to us as white children that the mores and customs of those times were evil. As I began to mature in my teens I became troubled by what I sensed was terribly and inherently wrong concerning thse customs and mores of our segregated way of life. By the time I had graduated from high school I was convinced that this abuse of black people was wrong. I left Mississii in l947 and wept bitterly as I watched the civil rights movement that followed and the brutality of treatment, inluding murders of African Americans, as they struggled to overthrow that repressive and evil existence perpertrated upon them. A new day was coming, and while there are still white and black racists in the United States, as well as Mississippi, I am thankful to God Almighty that that new day is slowly evolving.Great changes have occurred, thanks to the brave leaders, black and white, who struggled and died for civil rights for African Americans and the gradual acceptance and embrace of these changes in the attitudes of white Amerians. After living all over North Amerian and having travelled all over the world, at the age of eighty I am returning to Mississippi to live out my last days on ths earth. I salute those brave an strong people who have stood up and said "This is evil. This is unjust." In my remaining years I hope I can contriute to the ongoing struggle to eliminte the last vetiges of racial prejudice in my home state and the United States. Thomas L. Ramsey

I remember the night of March 25th 1965. I was 6 years old. The youngest of 5 children and a wonderful caring mother who loved all people. I remember being in bed about midnight and hearing the phone ring. Immediately there were people knocking on our front door as soon as the lights went on in our home. I got out of bed and my brothers and sister were on the couch crying and my dad was screaming "Mommy's dead, Mommy's dead". My mother was Viola Gregg Liuzzo. She went to Selma Alabama a week earlier in response to Dr King's request after bloody Sunday. She had called home after the march was over and was so happy it was a success. My dad told her she was not out of danger and to please be careful. She was working with a young black man Leroy Moten who was just 19 at the time. They were working on the transportation committee carrying marchers back to Selma from Montgomery. She stopped at a light in Selma and next to her car was 4 KKK members. Collie Leroy Wilkens, Orville Eaton, Eugene Thomas and paid FBI informer and Klansman Gary Thomas Rowe. They chased my mom for 20 miles at high speed, then pulled along side of her car and shot her twice in the head. My life changed forever that day. Not a day goes by that my heart does not ache to see my mom. I miss her so much. My family is so proud of her. We have worked for 45 years to clear her name and reputation after J. Edgar Hoover began a deliberate smear campaign of lies to detract from the FBI's involvement in her murder. Thank you mom for raising us as you did. I always say that I learned more from her in 6 short years than many kids learn in a lifetime. Sally Liuzzo Prado

I am an Anglo-Afrikaan I was born in Cape Town South Africa on April 24th 1978. I lived over there until I was age 12 then We moved to the USA and We love it here. My Favorite and well thought of memory is Bobby Delaughter helping to solve who murdered Medger Evers and Coretta Scott King. I am white but I am proud of My heritage of being an African. Even though I wasn't born in the 50's-60's I kept up with My history and love it. Even though there was a lot of hangings and lynchings and that was so horrific, the KKK will pay for it one day of what they done to Our Ancestors. I wanted to share My journey.

Please take a trip to Greensboro and visit the new Civil Rights Museum. I made a contribution of some Poll Tax reciepts from my grandparents that are on display.

My uncle had been a pastor in NewAlbany Indiana. But often times as AME-Zion ministers are required to do, had to relocate to serve as a pastor of a church in Alabama. I had just passed to the 8th grade (early 60s) and was "school-free" for the summer. With him behind the wheel, me, my aunt and cousins in tow set out for Tuscaloosa. Now Louisville was no different in that water-fountains and restrooms were "White/Black" only back then...but as a kid I soon learned of just how different "Jim Crowism" was in Dixie. We stopped at a roadside service station to purchase fuel, and use the facilities. As I mentioned earlier, I was familiar with segregated restrooms, but never as blatant as having designated "White Men/Women" and "Colored" facilities. That experience made such an indelible impression on me at such a young age, I 've never forgotten how being a 2nd-class citizen felt. Upon returning to school that fall, I was compelled to join others in sit-ins along 4th Street to protest objections to seat or serve Blacks in retail stores and restaurants. Six years later, again we took to the streets to protest housing discrimination in south Louisville.