BWAP 2025: Called to Justice ~ Emily Johnson

I appreciate artwork. I love to delve into the meaning of a yellow stroke of acrylic paint showing joy against an eclipse or how someone’s eyes convene a sense of longing only those with heartache will understand. One afternoon of our trip, we had the chance to engage with history through art, which was a powerful experience for me.

We walked through Kelly Ingram Park with a guide named Barry McNealy. He told us how each of the sculptures represented stories before and after the bombing at 16th Street Baptist Church. How the bomb killed four little Black girls who were getting ready for church; how two Black boys were murdered downtown that same day; how people, particularly the community’s youth, came to protest the events peacefully and met violence of the city’s police and firemen; how ministers stood alongside the people, pleading for mercy and calling for justice.

One of these sculptures stood out to me in particular. Three large attack dogs loomed over you as you walked through two walls, baring their canines. You could almost feel the heat of their breath on your skin, the deafening barks in your ears, and the teeth, like daggers, sinking close to your bone.

I paused at this moment, wondering how it felt to be there that day; gathering with your friends at your church, ready to demand justice with your homemade sign, and being met with gnashing teeth. I wondered how it felt for a firehose – meant to save you from flames – to be turned against you, striking your skin with so much force that it left burns and scars. What bravery they had to stare death in the face, to believe that God was with them!

Like all humans, I have moments where I am reminded of death. It’s a chilling thought, but someday that day will come. As someone who just celebrated her 22nd birthday, I hope that day is far away. But what if that day was today? What if I was one of those in the streets next to 16th Street Baptist Church? I like to think I would have stayed in the battle; yet, I’m not sure. As a white person, I have the privilege to stay silent; to run away and be safe in my home; to close my eyes and pretend that nothing is happening.

But as a Christian, I believe I’m called to break the silence. I’m called to stand with my Black and brown siblings – to put my body in front of the firehose, in front of the dog. And – maybe hardest of all – I am called to have faith that God was there that day; not holding the shoulder of the fireman, but the shoulder of the Black girl with the homemade sign.

As we look ahead to an uncertain future under the new presidential administration, I wish I knew for sure that everything was going to be okay. I wish I knew for sure that we will not see another day when churches are bombed and Black kids face down hoses and dogs. But I don’t. All I know is that God is calling me to something more than silence.

Jesus told his followers that to follow him, they would need to take up their cross (Matthew 16:24-26). We do not always know where we will be asked to carry it, but when I think about Kelly Ingram Park, I remember that God will be with us; no matter where, no matter what.

Emily “E.J.” Johnson (she/they) is a senior studying history and environmental studies.

Photo: BWAP team members touring Kelly Ingram Park.