Some of the guards there would tell us, "Y'all get up there at Parchman, they're gonna straighten you all out. And there ain't no Robert Kennedy or John Kennedy gonna do anything about it." And people began to think that.
But me and lots of the other folks didn't buy it. When we get there, we're still going to do things our way. But the dehumanizing process started as soon as we got there. We were told to strip naked and then walked down this long corridor. For some of us who were born and bred in the South and used to go skinny-dipping, it was no big deal. But I'll never forget Jim Farmer, a very dignified man. And here he is walking down this long corridor naked. That is dehumanizing. And that was the whole purpose.
[ ... ]
The ride between Jackson and Parchman took about four hours, and was more frightening than any previous part of the jail experience. There were twenty-three girls, white and black, crowded into an army-transport type truck, which was completely lacking in springs. Many of us had black-and-blue marks when we arrived, because the drivers delighted in stopping and staring suddenly, throwing us against each other and the sharp corners of the seats.
But the most terrifying part of the ride was the three times when the drive suddenly jolted off to the side of the highway and stopped. We imagined every horror, including an ambush by the KKK. I suppose they were just waiting for our escort of state police and FBI to catch up, or something equally innocent, but until we were moving again, none of us breathed an easy breath.
~ more... ~
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