Freedom on My Mind

"Freedom on My Mind" is an amazing documentary of a period of American history that makes the viewer cringe that it happened. Mississippi in 1960 was fully segregated with political leaders, like like Gov. Ross Barnett, providing an unblushing rationale.

The film really has two parts. The first, shorter part, focuses on Bob Moses and the voter registration drive. The second, larger section, examines the formation of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party and its efforts, led by Fannie Lou Hamer, to replace the Mississippi Dixiecrats at the Democratic National Convention in 1964.

The documentary balances well historical film footage with 1990s commentary by participants in the Freedom Summer of 1964, including Bob Moses, Marshall Ganz, Heather Booth, and others. Endesha Ida Mae Holland, who was raped by a white man at age 11, went from the Mississippi Delta to volunteering with the registration drive as a teenager, to getting a PhD in American Studies. Her commentary and that of Bob Moses is the most striking.

Also very insightful is the description of relationship between African American and white volunteers in the registration movement.

This a humbling documentary to watch.

Activists look back on the Mississippi voter registration drive from 1961- 64. It's a documentary. It's the story of a revolution. For 2020, there is new resonance. The world has changed but much has not. While some in the black and white footage are saying words that civil society does not today, so much of this looks very similar to what's happening right now. The world has come a long way but in some ways, there is so much further to go.

An absolutely brilliant look back at the 1963 Mississippi black voter registration drive, with excellent footage from the time and interviews with key figures three decades later, in 1994. Even if you're aware of this period of history, this is a very worthwhile documentary, and whether we admit or not, still relevant today. It made me emotional to see the combination of the viciousness of most of the white Mississippians (who ironically say the country is for whites because they're civilized and other races savage), the lack of recourse since it pervaded society (including the police and state politicians all the way up to the Governor), the absolute unfairness of it all, and yet, the heroic bravery of black and white Americans who risked their lives to force progress. This should be shown be shown in U.S. history courses in high schools everywhere.

I liked how the film doesn't glorify or unfairly weight the involvement of mostly northern college students from liberal arts schools, who while courageous and inspiring, by their own admission could have flown home anytime, unlike the African-Americans they were helping. The leadership and eloquence of Bob Moses is truly inspiring, as is the thoughtful commentary of those who joined the movement. The arc of Endesha Ida Mae Holland, raped by her white employer on her 11th birthday (which she says was commonplace), and speaking of harsh truths in her life through a smile, is delightful. Curtis Hayes speaks with soulful intensity, Marshall Ganz from Bakersfield, California is insightful, and Fannie Lou Hamer's televised testimony is stirring, standing out among many others. In contrast, the documentary also gives us a glimpse into some of the soul-crushing politics within the Democratic Party, which, even if evolving at the time, was still trying to save itself from southern white voters switching parties.

Mississippi was a particularly onerous example of backwardness, with a cruel apartheid system, violence perpetuated for the slightest of offenses (e.g. lynchings for "eye rape", a black man looking at a white woman in what was deemed an offensive way), and black people denied the right for 90+ years after the 15th amendment had been passed. The documentary is focused here, and appropriately so, but it should be realized that the problem was by no means localized to the recalcitrant south. Racism and the belief in white superiority was widespread, revisionist history was still being taught, and white supremacists like J. Edgar Hoover were in positions of great power. It's also easy to think of this problem as now "solved," and the needle has certainly moved considerably in Mississippi and the rest of America since the early 1960's, but as Cleve Sellars in the documentary points out, "things are not the best that they could be," which is still true today. As the documentary shows, it takes active involvement though, because those in positions of privilege or power aren't simply going to relinquish it on their own. Powerful stuff.

I am a white Southerner. I have always considered myself Southern. I was born in a small Southern town in North Florida called Live Oak. I grew up in a small Southern town in Central Florida called Ocoee where the history of that town has a lot in common with what is stated in this documentary on the suppression of non-white voting dating to the 1920 massacre. Today that small Southern town, which before the 1920s was diverse in race, after the massacre that happened there, Ocoee remained all-white for 40 years.

When I hear about the horrible things that happened in this documentary, I know it's true. Even when I grew up in Ocoee in the 1980s, and I saw my elementary school only having two black teachers (both female, one Kindergarten the other 3rd grade, both I had as teachers) and one single black student (also female) and the racism by staff and students they endured was awful. And those of us who were white and stood up against it were treated no different than they were. They called us "N-- lovers" or just saw us as being black too and hiding in white skin. By Junior High (Middle School) our school was mainly white until a dilapidating mainly black school the next town over was combined into our school. And in 6th grade we had a "race riot". White children fighting and beating up black students and black students defending themselves and those of us in the middle beat up by the whites who believed we were no different than the blacks and the blacks fighting us because they didn't know we weren't racist against them, that was in 1988/1989. High School was more calmer in retrospect because Ocoee didn't have a High School at the time and we all mainly went to the High School in Winter Garden, FL which was highly diverse but while there there were incidences, it wasn't as bad as going to school in Ocoee.

I hear from some family members, or from others throughout my life that white people have it bad because non-white people have a voice now and they are taking away all their rights. None of their rights are being taken away except those that take away the rights of other people.

Documentaries like this remind me of a few things: non-whites, and especially black people, and especially in the Southern United States, are still to this day struggling against oppression. They just want equality. To be treated no better and no different than anyone else. It also reminds me of my childhood, which wasn't that long ago. I'm only 39. Which means it still goes on today. Ocoee has grown, it's gone from 7,000 people, mainly white to almost 50,000 people still mainly white but with a growing black community. The town I live in now, my hometown, I don't know...I still hear white people using racial epithets as if it's normal to do so. Ironically, the town itself is mainly non-white yet whites still control almost everything. There was an incident not too long ago at a hotel dwelling with racism against black people. Also, nothing will change until white people--and me being white I think I can say this--start recognizing they are not superior to other people not their skin color. No one is trying to take away your rights. They just want the same rights as you, and for the most part: they don't.

Documentaries like this are important. Sadly, they don't get watched by those who actually need to watch it.

I'm not going to pull any punches here: this documentary, made when I was in my early 30s, about the Mississippi voter rights demonstrations has always been difficult for me to watch. (And I'm white and grew up in the South, so I can only imagine the difficulty it presents to the BIPOC communities.) The sheer brutality of the raw violence and the unrelenting psychological terrorism wrought by segregation and racism in the late '50s and early '60s never ceases to bring tears to my eyes, as it has for at least 50 years since I was a small child. But the most disturbing aspect of the film is how much systemic inequality remains, with many similar arguments still being spouted by the ignorant and frightened. Voting rights are *still* under attack in what were the "Dixiecrat" dominated states, like Georgia and Texas, now GOP dominated. The "Black Lives Matter" movement and its most fierce detractors (All Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, etc.) directly echo the Civil Rights Movement of the '60s and it's staunch opponents. As with "hate crimes legislation," the notion that respecting and protecting certain groups of people who have been historically and typically targeted or are especially vulnerable to oppression is in some way granting them "special rights" over and above the majority of people is highly insulting and positively ludicrous. It's 2021, 55-60 years later, yet we're arguing with those same people and trying to fight the same battles. That's why the story, the footage, and the 1st-hand testimony of the people involved are still able to move me to tears. 9/10.