by Stacey Torres

Created on: January 17, 2010

I was appalled and bemused as to the apathetic mood regarding the commemoration of Martin Luther King’s birthday had become. Some local schools referred to it as a “snow day” or “holiday” (to be used if you need to make up time), or by not acknowledging it at all. I know everyone does not acknowledge, reflect nor respect the day; which is their right. But when did I become so complacent and adopt the ‘just another day’ attitude? Somewhere along the way, I also took it for granted along with so many things in our daily lives.

When did I forget the horrors my forefathers endured in order for us to be able to enjoy the simple things of life, like voting for the candidate of your choice or eating wherever we wanted? I remember the courageous actions of four African American college freshmen (the Greensboro Four) who walked into F.W. Woolworth’s in Greensboro, NC, sat at the 'Whites Only' lunch counter, and ordered food. They were refused service, but stayed until closing. The next day they returned, and were again refused, as they were the next day, and the next. However, growing numbers of sympathizers, both black and white joined in their protest and sat-in with them. By the fifth day, there were over 300 protesters jammed in and around that lunch counter. Not surprisingly, the City of Greensboro took action with more stringent segregation laws, and over 40 students were arrested and charged with trespassing. Fueling protests across the country, both blacks and whites launched massive boycotts of segregated lunch counters and stores and businesses. As expected, profits fell sharply and some businesses either gave in or closed. Finally, six months later, the same four freshmen returned to Woolworth’s and were served lunch.

These protests reached the upper east coast, and hundreds of supportive marchers began to picket Woolworth’s on 125th Street in Harlem. I was confused when my grandmother would not let me get a soda or hotdog at the Woolworth’s on Jamaica Ave. We always had before? What did those people ‘down there’ have to do with us up here?’ I was seven years old, and her explanations were even more perplexing to me. What were civil rights? Who was this Dr. King? Why was this our concern?

The civil rights movement got heated, and spread far beyond the Deep South. ‘Up Here’ became a playing field for me sooner than later.

In 1963, plans were made to begin construction

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