Honoring Mothers of the Wilmington Ten

              

The Mothers of Wilmington Ten

  

The Wilmington Journal had had just been bombed. My mother had been sitting at the kitchen table with a young civil rights leader named Ben Chavis. Suddenly the plates on the table rattled from the concussion of a loud blast around the corner from the house. With my mother leading the way, they rushed out of the door toward the sound of the explosion. As they approached ground zero, they found a shocked Tom Jervay Sr., standing in front of the building he owned. The iconic structure which stood in heart of black Wilmington, had just been blown to smithereens. It had been home to the cities’ black newspaper, The Wilmington Journal.

The 1973 bombing had come in the wake of racial hostilities that had begun in 1968 with the closing of the city's only black high school. Mr. Jervay had been the voice of the black community throughout the turmoil. No doubt, the bombing was a not-so-subtle attempt to muffle the resounding sound of Jervay’s constant drumbeat for justice. 

As if this courageous man needed reassurance, my mother looked up at him, as he stared blankly at his blackened building - she said, “We are not going to let them scare us. Bombing our community’s newspaper will not silence us.” 

That was my mother. Like Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth, like Rosa Parks and Coretta Scott King. Dolores F. Moore will always be remembered as one of those brave and courageous African American Women, who made a difference in the world around them, who “refused to remain silent in the face of injustice.” 

To me Dolores F, Moore was the greatest civil rights leader of all time. “Triumphant Warrior” is my attempt to honor her legacy. She once said in a documentary on the Wilmington 10. 

“Wayne would never speak up about what was happening to him, She then said “I had no choice but to step forward.” 

She is the pillar on which I lean, and the prism through which I have always viewed the future . When I was lost she helped me find my way back home. When I was weak she lifted me up; when the jaws of injustice and persecution swallowed me up, she boldly and courageously stepped forward to free me. She taught me to never give up, to never forget to hold my head up high, to be bold in the face of injustice, to love even my enemies, that it is always better to give than to receive. I cannot fill her shoes, but I promised her during her transition that I’d try to walk courageously in her footsteps. With “Triumphant Warrior” I have at least stepped forward.