ON THE ROAD PART XIV: SELMA

It seems weird to look at Selma simply from a visual standpoint. Impossible really. For my companion it was easier, he didn't do any schooling in the US, and in Europe we don't really devote too much time on American history (sorry but we have too much of our own to get through). So for him it was a lovely little town, bricks, old signs, quiet but kind of charming. For me it was a bit different. Maybe it's because the town is littered with plaques commemorating the ones who lost their lives in the struggle for equality (unfortunately a struggle that is all to real to this day), yet the plaques are on streets named after KKK members, as is the historic bridge. Ummmmmmm what the fuck? It's like Selma (and the US really) wants to brush its violent and racists history under the rug, pretending that today it's all fine, and that life is the same for everyone because they at least acknowledge the horrible things that happened. However, feeling ashamed and appalled by even their distant memory is an entirely different thing. So yes, Selma was beautiful and I'm glad we stopped, but to me it really did just highlight the hypocrisy and the lack of progress.