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My Joyful Resistance
- Emma Lockridge
- May 3
- 3 min read
An apartheid system oppressed Black people in Alabama when I was born there in 1953. The Jim Crow laws were legally struck down in 1954, but the bigoted hearts of millions of people in the South and beyond did not change. The ongoing racism has put me on a path of resistance my entire life.
My first understanding of resistance occurred when my parents decided we should vacation in Mexico in 1966 after we had moved up North. “I’m going to Mexico,” I gleefully shouted up and down the street to all my friends. It was the zenith of the Civil Rights movement, but that didn’t stop my parents from purchasing a new Cadillac to make a road trip from Detroit, MI, to Monterrey, Mexico. Even though we used a Green Book, it didn’t soften the terror of driving through Sundown towns. We were refused a room at a hotel with a glistening swimming pool and were forced to accept accommodations at a tired-looking motel.
After arriving and vacationing in a very welcoming Mexico, I noticed at the age of 13 that no one seemed to care about the color of my skin. Plus, our hotel had a lovely swimming pool. It was the white people back home who tried to define me negatively due to my amplified melanin. I refused to give them that power after my watershed Mexico adventure. Valuing my self-worth was my first act of resistance.
My second act of resistance occurred in high school when the girls demanded the right to wear pants instead of skirts and dresses to school in subzero temperatures. We organized a walkout with many teachers joining us. The school administration relented and lifted the ban on girls in pants. It was a satisfying victory that eventually covered every school in the district. We resisted and won in 1968.
That high school defiance paved the way for me, as an adult, to become an effective environmental justice organizer in Detroit for nearly a decade. My childhood home was located in the most polluted ZIP code in Michigan due to redlining. The polluter closest to us was an oil refinery that released toxic air. I organized my neighbors to apply pressure on the refinery to purchase our homes. After eight arduous years of protest rallies, government meetings, and community hearings, the refinery agreed to purchase our homes. We resisted and won in 2021.
In 2025, we find ourselves in a country with a leadership that seeks to reverse many hard-fought victories for justice. What am I doing about it? Dancing! You read correctly. I am dancing.
Black people did not break this country. It is time for others to fix it.
I started line dancing last summer with a group of upbeat, urban Baby Boomers. I had no idea it would become a form of joyful resistance to get through these difficult times.
Starting in the Mississippi Delta, Black people have sung, danced, and created our way out of dire situations that have been thrust upon us. Today is no different. Boots on the ground is my resistance.
Emma Lockridge is a retired journalist and photojournalist. Her career included reporting and writing positions in several states, including New York, where she was employed at NBC Radio Network. She enjoys writing, photography, exploring the world, dancing and being a grandmother to an adorable toddler.
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