Auburn Avenue and the Privilege of Remembering
A few months ago, I walked through the Atlanta neighborhood where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. grew up. A trip to Atlanta afforded a day to walk down Auburn Avenue, passing his childhood home from the sidewalk, entering Ebenezer Baptist church, pondering pictures, objects and news articles along a “Freedom Road” exhibition which is now a National Park.
Being there in person felt remarkably different than appreciating quotes on social media, watching documentaries, or even reading books. Like all embodied experiences, there was a certain felt something which can hardly be communicated in typed words, but that I now carry with me as I celebrate the national holiday today.
Perhaps most moving was a room filled with Dr. King’s recorded voice — in the church he co-pastored with his father — sitting in the very pews where parishioners would have first heard him, surely fanning themselves as they sounded their Amens in the Atlanta heat. It wasn’t a particular point his voice was proclaiming that affected me, but more that we could no longer hear him today; that his voice of non-violence was so violently silenced, freezing in time his interpretation of the way forward, leaving us to figure out the next move.
Continue reading “Where MLK Walked”