BLACK LIVES MATTER: Bethel Plymouth African Methodist Episcopal Church Rev. Barbara Simmons

“I’m a person who came up during the 60s in the South. You can imagine the experiences I’ve had. Next month, I’ll have lived in Massachusetts for 51 years. I did social work in the City of Boston for 40 years. I have some beautiful stories and some not so beautiful stories.

I just have so much to say but I want to start out by saying that our church, Bethel Plymouth African Methodist Episcopal Church, at 6 Sever St., is in its 153rd year as of October, and I’m always amazed at the number of people who don’t know that church has been there so long. The reason I say that is that church started as a result of not having a Black church anywhere in the area. It all adds together in terms of the history of African people in Plymouth.

I originally came from Pensacola, Florida. I moved 51 years ago next month. I moved here to get a job really because there were no jobs in Florida. I was in my early 20s. When I initially came, I worked various jobs until I started college in 1972 at UMASS-Boston, where I studied sociology and urban social services. And then I left there and went to Simmons School of Social Work where I earned my MSW master’s degree. Then I accepted the call to ministry in 1995, which required I complete a master’s in divinity. I have a master’s in divinity from Andover-Newton School of Divinity and a doctorate in ministry from Andover Newton Seminary. It was in Newton center; now it’s part of Yale University.”

What does Black Lives Matter mean to me?

“I’m glad to see the movement. I came along during the 60s and was very in tune with the civil rights movement. There were whites involved in the movement, more than people think.

What I like about BLM is that they’re more young white people that really get it. They’re not just doing it to do it. And we need help. With George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. That’s just wrong. What’s happening now – it’s a direct slap to humanity. Period. And you can’t hurt me without being hurt yourself. Young people are the key. They can engage parents and grandparents. These young people are setting a foundation for the future, for the world. It gives me more hope. That’s what the movement means to me. It lets me know the fight will go on. People aren’t just pointing to us and saying: ‘You must solve it.’

“I admired and loved John Lewis did and he was proud of the BLM movement. I was so proud that he was able to see this movement before he died. He gave me hope that it will continue. It won’t be a temporary fix. That it will go on. That’s what it means to me.

“That’s important.

“I not only think about where I am today and where I was yesterday, I think about what will happen to my three grandsons? One is 12, one is 5 and one is 3. What’s going to happen to them? They’re Black males. They’re bright little boys and I’m hopeful for their future. I know what’s happening today will impact them. The Supreme Court decisions will impact them. Those are things that are vitally important to me.

“I heard something yesterday. And it was Rev. Al Sharpton, someone I admire so much. He spoke about the fact there are some who participate in the movement who aren’t sincere, who have an agenda of their own. I heard about people approaching people in a restaurant in D.C. and harassing them. That’s not going to help the movement. That’s not going to help change their hearts and minds when you interfere with them having a meal with their families.

I believe people who are part of that want to see some change. But change has to happen deep down and people have to want it.

“Many times, police are not conducting themselves in the Black community the way they should. We have to think twice about calling the police when we’re in trouble. We have to consider sometimes: Do we want to call the police? Sometimes, calling the police adds more trouble.

“And, for those police trying to do the right thing – they see their fellow brothers and sister not doing the right thing and they don’t say anything. That’s the problem – that blue code is the problem. There’s a reform bill that would implement a policy whereby police would have a duty to stop someone before they kill someone like George Floyd, a duty to say something. Until police officers speak up for what is right they’re going to be in the cart with the bad apples. The bill may help.

“Some things are just plain wrong. It has to be moral issue. We’re so far from where we need to be. The things some politicians and their supports are glorifying are morally bankrupt. They’re not dealing with what’s happening. The question is: Where are we morally? What’s right and what’s wrong? I remember learning that early on in my life. What’s right and what’s wrong. There are some things that are just right. Some things are easy to define. You lock children in cages, and that’s just wrong. I don’t care what you say. You can’t justify that for me. I’ve always been a child advocate. If you do something to a child, I don’t care what color you are. If you lock that child up, I’m going to speak up on that. This is not just their issue; it’s our issue as human beings. We all have a role in that.”

To be a Black and to be female

“I’ve dealt with sexism from males and females, from Black and white. Clearly, and it’s still demonstrated today, how we are discriminated against. Some research has determined the Black female is the most hated person on Earth. Just the things that have come out with Kamala Harris, how she has been degraded support that. I’ve dealt with institutional racism more here in Boston than in Pensacola.

“You see, I wasn’t seeking a job in Pensacola. I was younger. As I got my education, I was discriminated against and I took action. There was one situation where I was working in social services in Boston. I worked at an organization where they had a number of programs. Any time a program was defunded, they would find another place for you in the organization if you were white. When my program got defunded, however, there was no place for me. If you were Black they didn’t extend that courtesy. I would speak up and speak out. I fought it and I did win. We settled out of court with a small settlement. It wasn’t about the money. I wanted to let this person know that I knew what he was doing and I wasn’t going to take it. He wasn’t going to get away with it.

“It was very insidious. People weren’t open. And that was supposedly a liberal organization that claimed they liked everybody. But they didn’t.

“I was born in Alabama and raised in Pensacola. When I moved here 51 years ago, that was the first time I was called a n*****. I was walking down the street toward Ashmont Station and some kids threw rocks at me and called me that.

“That was early in my move to Boston; I moved here in 1969. I had been here maybe three or four years. I was doing an internship at the time, handing out pamphlets warning people about lead paint poisoning. I was going through the community.

“That set the framework. I still love Boston. It’s a good place. I wanted to come here because of educational opportunities. I did earn four degrees. I’ve been able to earn a decent living and buy a home. I wouldn’t have been able to do those things in Florida.

“My town in Pensacola was quietly segregationist and racist. I walked passed two [white] schools I couldn’t attend on my way to school – an elementary school two blocks from my house and a middle school five blocks from my house. We knew our place. We had just great schools and teachers. We didn’t have the resources the white schools had. But we had great teachers who cared and disciplined us. It was a wonderful relationship. I still have high school reunions. By the time I got to be a junior, I believe that’s when the doors opened to go to the white schools. None of us wanted to go. We had great football teams and great bands. When it first happened, only one person chose to leave. As my brothers and sisters grew up, it became mandatory to go. They had a rough time with desegregation. It impacted them.

“Being the oldest of eight, that makes a difference too. There’s life experience, and also I said I owe a lot to the Black teachers who saw the good in me and saw my skills. That’s why I admire teachers. A good teacher makes a difference because they can pull out things and see the kids that have ability. My mind was broadened. I’m happiest when I have a book in my hand.”

Racism and politics

“I’m always amazed at people who really don’t want to think for themselves. Makes me think about Jim Jones, how he took these people to Guyana and had them drink this Kool-Aid and they died. People who aren’t able to think – they would rather buy something that somebody else has put out than work it out for themselves. And it’s not just the uneducated. That’s the scary part. They buy what someone is saying without thinking about it and sometimes parrot it up verbatim, without doing any research. I picked up from my mother who taught us to make decisions on our own – get the information, make the decision on your own. You have a mind; use your mind. My mother was not an educated woman, but she had a lot of common sense.

“I picked up my boldness from my grandmother on my mother’s side. Her name was Anna McReynolds. Both sides of my family are from Alabama. I think of her when I speak up for other people. I come from a line of people who were domestic workers. I tried that myself. That was not working for me. My paternal great-grandmother was the first one born free in Alabama. And she lived to be 93. Her name was Mamie Alridge (who married a Robinson).

“A friend showed me a cartoon years ago that showed someone with a plant dug up by the roots. It said that unless racism is dug up from the root, it will never be resolved. It’s now dug up from the root. I believe that having a Black president brought out some people’s anger and resentment. It’s being dug up. I can’t even think about it. I worry about the Supreme Court. That’s what keeps me up at night.

“Racism has to be pulled up from the root so we can deal with it and get some healing from it.”