Yesterday, I decided to take advantage of the free admission to Birmingham Civil Rights Institute on Sundays and pay my respects to Black History Month. As I walked through the exhibits, I couldn’t help but focus in on the names of the individuals who stood up for what they believed in. But something else struck me, most of the people who were being remembered were either my age or younger. College students staged sit-in demonstrations, rode buses as a sign of their rights to freedom, and some even gave their lives for the cause.
When I got to the last exhibit hall, there sat a computer with the caption “What’s your story?” And while I could tell a million (and one) stories about my college days, I thought what will I do that people will remember me for? At 25, it was really challenging for me to come up with anything that would even compare to those stories that filled the museum’s walls. I want to leave a legacy behind, one that people not only look back and smile, but one that those listening or reading about my story, are urged to action. With a rekindled passion, I exited the museum, not just standing on the shoulders of those who came before me, but standing on my own two feet with their stories as the backdrop to start my own story.
