Walking in Memphis

For more background on Jackie Smith and her protest, check out an expanded version of this article here.

Yesterday (June 9, 2015), I had the honor of meeting Ms. Jacqueline Smith. I was staying in Memphis for the night, three blocks away from the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed. After the motel went out of business, it was purchased and turned into the National Civil Rights Museum. The initial investment from the state of Tennessee to turn it into a tourist destination was $8.8 million, while in the past decade a further $25 million was pumped in to build a new wing attached to the motel and various beautification projects, all while the neighborhood of South Main faced continual divestment and - more recently - heavy gentrification that priced out many original residents.

As of yesterday, Ms. Smith had been protesting outside of the Lorraine Motel for 27 years and 138 days. She first lived in the Lorraine Motel as a teenager and, when the motel was turned into a museum, she was forcibly evicted by Shelby County sheriffs. Since then, she has been staying across the street from the Lorraine Motel, sitting on a bench and telling Dr. King’s radical vision to anyone who’s willing to stop and listen. In a 1988 article on the USA Today, Ms. Smith reminded folks that the transformation of the Lorraine Motel into a state-owned money-making property did not benefit many of South Main’s African-American residents, nor did Coretta Scott King (Dr. King’s widow) sanction this project. ‘Dr. King would have wanted me to stay here. He said he didn’t want any memorial, that he wanted to help the poor. That’s what he died doing.’ Ms. Smith said back then.

I first learned of Ms. Smith’s ongoing protest in a class from Dr. Jamie Winders during an introductory human geography course. I was a teaching assistant for that course during my very first semester in graduate school, and it was challenging to both teach myself and convey to the students that there are contesting visions of how to best commemorate historical legacies and that building a shiny monument might not be an idea that everyone - especially local residents - might agree with. Now that I’m on my way out of graduate school to embark on my own research project, visiting Ms. Smith seems like a fitting start.

Perhaps coincidentally, the National Civil Rights Museum is closed on Tuesdays, so I didn’t have the chance to pay $15 for a tour even if I wanted to. That did not stop many people from hopping off their cars, snapping a photo in front of the balcony where Dr. King was shot, and then driving away immediately. During the hour or so that I spent there, I counted more than 20 people stopping by - none of whom paid any attention to Ms. Smith. It was just before noon on a scorching day, but Ms. Smith remained under the umbrella eager to talk to anyone who’s willing to stop by.

I told Ms. Smith that I’m from Seattle and that my professor at school had told her students about her protest. That folks from outside Memphis knew about her protest made Ms. Smith very happy. Her table was covered with materials that document the state’s ongoing project of gentrification in South Main. Of the $25 million dollars that went into building a new wing and refurbishing the museum, none went to projects that work with local residents. The neighborhood first declined due to continual divestment. The resulting depression of property prices then allowed developers to swoop in and producing a neighborhood renaissance , just not with many of the original residents. Ms. Smith pointed to new condos that were built in the past decade and told me about their developers. Very few of them were invested in maintaining affordable housing for original residents. Of the vacant lots in the neighborhood , Ms. Smith said that she wouldn’t be surprised that they’re all bought up in a few years.

I told Ms. Smith about my experience of teaching her protests to undergraduate students, and I asked her what she would tell the students who didn’t see building a museum to commemorate Dr. King’s legacy as problematic. ‘Everybody quotes Dr. King’s speeches. They’re all on Youtube now.’ she said. ‘But few people remember that Dr. King’s most pressing goal was to help lift people out of poverty in their own neighborhoods.’ The primary issue, Ms. Smith said, is about cultural appropriation. Besides the National Civil Rights Museum, she pointed to the nearby Blues Hall of Fame as an example. ‘Some random people bought up a two-story building, printed out photos of blues musicians, and then started selling books and prints for profit.’ she said. ‘Where did those money go? Not to local residents or blues musicians. Why do they get to profit from our image?’

Ms. Smith has a battered copy of A Testament of Hope, a compilation of Dr. King’s speeches and remarks. In response to my question, she pointed to a passage from the 1959 speech before the Youth March for Integrated Schools that we read out together. It reads,

As June approaches, with its graduation ceremonies and speeches, a thought suggests itself. You will hear much about careers, security, and prosperity. I will leave the discussion of such matters to your deans, your principals, and your valedictorians. But I do have a graduation thought to pass along to you. Whatever career you may choose for yourself - doctor, lawyer, teacher - let me propose an avocation to be pursued along with it. Become a dedicated fighter for civil rights. Make it a central part of your life. It will make you a better doctor, a better lawyer, a better teacher. It will enrich your spirit as nothing else possibly can.

The next time students ask us this question, Ms. Smith said, read them this passage and ask them if building a fancy museum in and of itself qualifies as fighting for civil rights, or is it primarily about prosperity for a certain small group of people.

During the hour or so I spent with Ms. Smith, none of the tourists stopped by her bench. Two Memphis residents, however, drove by and greeted her warmly. They brought water and other things, and it’s clear that there’s still local support for Ms. Smith endeavor. Before I left, I asked her if there’s anything I (and other people) can do to help her protest. She asked me for two things. The first is simply to spread the word. Whether people agree with her or not, she does not want people to know of the Lorraine Motel as a museum and nothing else. The second, she asked me if I could go to a cafe around the corner (now littered with a yoga studio, several gastropubs, a boutique soda store, etc.) and bring back a cup of ice. ‘I don’t leave this bench because I don’t want to miss anyone who wants to hear what I have to say, so I have to rely on folks like you to get me through the day,’ she said. If no one stops by for the day, then she doesn’t get any replenishments.

I went to the cafe but I had to order something to get a cup of ice to-go. I got a small cup of iced tea ($2.46, the cheapest item available), and brought them back to her bench. She took the ice but refused the tea. ‘Only water for me,’ she said as she filled cup the cup of ice from a bottled water that local residents had brought by for her. During the entire time I was with her, she kept rearranging her bench area to get me more shade under the hot sun, even though I was only there for an hour, unlike her who sits there day after day.

Ms. Smith graciously allowed me to take a photo of her before I left. She said that she’s honored to have people take the time to speak with her, when really it should be the opposite. I told her that I wanted to tell my friends and my professor about my conversations with her, and she’s very happy to hear that. She reminded me to thank my professor on her behalf for telling her students about her ‘ordinary actions’. By every one of us spreading the word, Ms. Smith hopes that folks one day will remember the Lorraine Motel as not just a museum, but a place - like many other places - where ongoing struggles against gentrification and inequalities are happening.