![]() They also established Freedom Schools, which offered free summer classes to black children in the South. During that violent and blistering summer, Watkins and the other activists aimed to increase the black voter population in the state. Watkins went on to truly become a Freedom Rider, participating in 1964’s Freedom Summer, also known as the Mississippi Summer Project. “Without thinking my mom said, ‘If you promise me you’ll take care of him, I’ll allow him to go with you.'” Watkins said. Once they returned home, Bevel asked Watkins’ mother if her son could join his efforts in the movement. She was convinced Bevel was “a God-sent man.” Watkins says his mother was still crying on the way home from the church. It was just like when (Martin Luther King Jr. And not just me, everybody in the church. But when that man got up there and he began preaching - I’m a tell ya, and I don’t owe ya no lie - the Spirit was in me. I’m not a big Christian even now, and I was less of a Christian back then. “He had the whole church in tears,” Watkins said. A religious man himself, Bevel eventually gained complete trust from Watkins’ mother after she witnessed him deliver a powerful sermon one day at church. Although Watkins was clear that he had no desire to join the movement, Bevel saw something in Watkins. Watkins kept his promise to his mother - but not for long.Īfter hearing about Watkins’ incarceration at Parchman, James Bevel - a significant figure and leader in the civil rights movement - came to Watkins’ house in Jackson. Powerful sermon paves the way to “a hell of an experience” But we get home, and she tells me to go in the house and drop ’em… I dropped my clothes, and actually, she beat the hell out of me… for about an hour… seriously.” “My mom had a pretty good conversation with me going home. ![]() “Headed home, I’m thinking everything is OK,” Watkins said. ![]() Outwardly religious and firm in her beliefs and expectations, Watkins’ mother demanded that he avoid any activity that could classify him as a Freedom Rider. Included on the form was a list of what would happen if he did. Before he was released from custody, Watkins had to sign a stack of papers agreeing to not get involved in the movement anymore. Instead, she was met with an unexpected opportunity to embrace her son the moment of his release. His mother was contacted and told to go to the Jackson jail where she thought she would be identifying her son’s remains. The convicts would take his food and only leave some syrup and and biscuit for him to eat along with a piece of fat from the meat they snatched for themselves.įive days later, Watkins was transported back to Jackson. He was tormented, molested and physically abused, Watkins painfully recalls. ![]() Transported to Parchman Farm and placed on death row, Watkins shared a cell with two inmates charged with murder. Hezekiah Watkins, Mississippi’s youngest Freedom Rider, is photographed outside of the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum in Jackson, Miss., Friday, May 24, 2019. They had mistaken him for an “outside agitator” from the Midwest, traveling South to cause disruption. The latter piece of information was enough for police officers to proceed with arresting Watkins. “And my birthplace was Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” ![]() Police approached the 13-year-old Watkins and asked him for two pieces of information: name and birthplace. “My friend pushed me inside of the bus station,” Watkins says. He even wanted to get so close to the scene of the sit-in that he could reach out and touch one of the riders, something he was convinced would earn him some clout. He just wanted the chance to witness some of the things he had been warned of. Watkins didn’t have the initial urge to participate as a Freedom Rider. And they were turning around and doing it all over again.” “All of these things took a toll, and I thought, ‘Eh, I’m not going to get involved.’ But I was so interested in the Freedom Riders - not the riders themselves, but what was happening to them. ![]()
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