Ruby Bridges

It is the most amazing story.

This week, at the Haley Farm gathering of the Children’s Defense Fund(CDF), I was privileged to meet Ruby Bridges, the now-grown woman who, at age 6, integrated an all-white school in New Orleans, Louisiana.

She was introduced at the end of the morning Bible study. Marian Wright Edelman, the founder of the CDF, came to the podium and introduced her. It was an electric moment; the whole crowd was deafeningly silent for a few seconds, and then burst into tearful, thunderous applause.

Ruby Bridges.
It was November 14, 1960. A federal court had ordered the New Orleans school system to desegregate, and Ruby Nell Bridges, age 6, became the first African American child to attend William Frantz Elementary School.

The morning of November 14th, Ruby’s mother got her ready for school and told her, “You’re going to a new school today. I want you to behave.”

Of course, Ruby would have thought of doing nothing else! She was excited! She was going into the first grade. She would make lots of friends, she thought, and she was always, or as much as possible at least, a good girl.

When she and her mother got outside their house, she remembers seeing what she thought were police officers coming up to meet them. They weren’t city officers; they were actually federal marshals assigned to protect Ruby. As mother and daughter walked to the car, she remembers the men telling her and her mother how they should get out of the car when they got to the school, and how they were to walk once they got out of the car.

Little Ruby thought this was a bit much of a fuss for just going to a new school, but she was of course going to do everything the men said. They didn’t tell her that people would be nasty, Ruby recalls, and she says she was kind of glad they didn’t, because she really didn’t understand what was going on, but the thought of people being mean would have been scary to her.

As they approached the school, Ruby saw a huge crowd of people outside her window. They were throwing things, she remembers, and shouting, but that really didn’t bother her because “people do that sort of thing in New Orleans at Mardi Gras.” It wasn’t until she got out of the car that she realized something was very, very wrong.

“I didn’t realize until I got into the school that something else was going on,” she says. “People were mad, and angry parents were rushing into the school and taking their children out.”

Little Ruby watched what was going on, not understanding. It was the first day of her being in a new school, and she had to go to the principal’s office to get enrolled, but because of the great flux of parents and students out of the school, she and her mother had to sit in the principal’s office that first day all day long.

“When the people would see us, they would shout at us and point,” she said, remembering. They were sitting behind glass doors and were visible to everyone, as everyone was visible to them. She asked her mother why the people were so angry, but her mother just told her to be still and wait for the principal to see them.

The principal finally enrolled Ruby at the end of the day, and the next day, Ruby was again escorted to the school by the federal marshals. “They took me to my classroom, and there I saw a lot of desks and chairs … but no students. ” Ruby says she thought she was early that day.

For one whole year, Ruby Bridges attended William Frantz Elementary School by herself. Every day (she didn’t miss a day), her teacher would teach her. The teacher would greet her at the door of her classroom and then, she and the teacher would do lessons for the entire day. She would eat her lunch by herself. At recess, she had total access to the playground. She would eat her lunch, go play, and go back into the school for the rest of her lessons.

Ruby was always taught to say her prayers. She says that her mother told her that if she was ever not with her daughter, and Ruby was afraid, that she should say her prayers. Ruby says that if she had a nightmare, and would tell her mother, her mother would ask, “Did you say your prayers?” and if Ruby said no, her mother would say, “Well, that’s why you had the nightmare. Go back into your room, get on your knees, and pray!” Her mother also reminded her that whenever she was not with her, Ruby should pray.

Ruby remembered her mother’s words when, on a day during this long, scary school year, she was by herself, with federal marshals, walking through the angry crowd. They were jeering at her, calling her names, and throwing things at her. Little Ruby was terrified, but as she walked, she remembered her mother’s words, and stopped – in the midst of the crowd – and prayed. “I prayed for the people,” she says. “I prayed for the people who were being mean to me.”

A year later, all the students came back to the school, but during that first year, Ruby’s family paid a price. Her father lost his job because his employer was mad that his daughter had integrated the schools. His grandparents, who had been sharecroppers in Mississippi and had lived 25 years on one farm, were forced to leave Mississippi.

Ruby says that during her first year at William Frantz, different people from the neighborhood would come over and help her dress. Others would walk behind the car taking her to the school. Even though she was alone in the school for a whole year, she says she knew she was never really alone.

Ruby Bridges is one of my she-roes. Is it any wonder that over 700 people assembled this week broke into tears when we saw her standing before us? Now the mother of four grown children, she works for the causes of children all over the country, and has started a foundation. How incredible it is that a little girl, six years old, survived that horrible year and is now working for children everywhere.

Thank you, Ruby.