Remembering Annie Lee Cooper

As an African American woman born in Selma, Alabama in 1910, my life was not an easy one. From a young age, I was acutely aware of the limitations and harsh realities of being Black in the South. Yet, my parents instilled in me a sense of resilience and a desire to fight for injustice, which would remain with me for my entire life.

My childhood was hard but happy. My family lived on a farm, and we struggled to make ends meet. My parents were hardworking, and my father often took different jobs to provide for us. Although we had very little, my family was close-knit and supportive of one another.

As I grew older, I became more and more aware of the challenges facing African Americans in Selma. Segregation was the norm, and Black people had very few rights or opportunities. The right to vote was perhaps the most fundamental of these rights, and it was one that was systematically denied to people of color.

Despite the obstacles that were placed in my way, I never lost the desire to make a difference. In 1942, I became the first African American woman to work at a hospital in Selma. I later found work as a nursing assistant at the Dallas County Health Department, where I focused on health education in impoverished areas.

But, like so many other African Americans in Selma, I was denied the right to vote. At the time, Black people were subject to unfair voting laws, including poll taxes, literacy tests, and violence toward Black voters that was often sanctioned by law enforcement.

I was determined to fight for change, and in the early 1960s, I became involved in the civil rights movement. Inspired by Martin Luther King Jr. and the Montgomery Bus Boycott, I began attending meetings and rallies in Selma. Through my activism, I met other passionate people, both Black and white, who were just as committed to making a difference as I was.

In 1963, I participated in a march led by Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma. It was a peaceful march, but we were met with violence from white authorities. The experience made me more resolved to fight for my right to vote, and I began to participate in more protests and demonstrations.

The most significant moment of my activism came on March 7, 1965, when I joined the Selma to Montgomery march. This was a march organized to demand voting rights for African Americans in the South. Our peaceful march was met with brutal violence when we were stopped on the Edmund Pettus Bridge by law enforcement officers and locals who had hostile intentions.

The scene that day was horrific. We were met with tear gas, electric cattle prods, and vicious beatings. The entire world watched in horror as peaceful protesters like me were violently attacked. My body ached from the beating, and I was tear-gassed, yet I did not give up. Even as I lay there, injured and in pain, I knew that I was fighting for something far more significant than myself.

After the attack on the marchers, I tried to register to vote again, but was denied by the racist county registrar. This led to a confrontation with Sheriff Jim Clark that was captured on camera. In the footage, I can be seen passionately arguing for my right to vote, even taking a swing at Clark before being arrested and jailed.

The footage of my arrest was broadcast nationally, and my story soon became a symbol of the African American struggle. Our collective efforts eventually led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which enfranchised millions of African Americans in the South.

After the Voting Rights Act was passed, I continued to be involved in the Selma community. I remained committed to social justice and worked actively to empower disenfranchised African Americans. Although life was still not always easy, I had a newfound sense of hope for the future.

Today, I am remembered as a fearless, strong-willed woman who stood up for what was right. Throughout my life, I remained committed to social justice and made a significant contribution to the fight for civil rights. Even on my worst days, I never gave up hope that things could change for the better. I died in 2010 at the age of 100, proud to have fought for a more just and equitable society for all.