Essie and the March on Selma: A Bloody Sunday Survival Story

By Wendy Tan Shiau Wei and Anitra Butler-Ngugi

Twelve-year-old Essie believes that Black people should be allowed to vote, and she's willing to march for that right. On Sunday, March 7, 1965, she puts on her best dress to join protesters as they plan to visit the governor in Montgomery, Alabama. But as the 600 marchers approach the Edmund Pettis bridge in Selma, they are stopped by state troopers. Can Essie survive blows, tear gas, and being sprayed with a water hose to continue her fight for voting rights? Readers can learn the real story of Selma’s Bloody Sunday from the nonfiction back matter in this Girls Survive story. A glossary, discussion questions, and writing prompts are also provided.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Capstone Young Readers
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669014669

Wendy Tan Shiau Wei

Wendy Tan is a Chinese-Malaysian illustrator based in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Over the past few years, she has contributed to numerous animation productions and advertisements. Now Wendy’s passion for storytelling has led her down a new path: children’s book illustration. When she’s not drawing, Wendy likes to spend time playing with her mixed-breed rescue dog, Lucky.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Selma, Alabama

March 7, 1965

Sunday, 6:00 a.m.

My twin bell alarm clock rang with a loud clanking noise. It was still dark outside, and the birds were singing their morning songs. The smell of bacon and the sounds of my grandmother Big Momma’s singing filled every of room of the house.

I usually slept until eight o’clock on Sundays. This day, however, was a special day, and I was up extra early.

The members of Brown Chapel AME Church were marching to Montgomery, Alabama, the state capital. We were going to pay a visit to Governor George Wallace.

Members of Brown Chapel wanted Governor Wallace to know that Black people in Alabama should have the right to vote. I was too young to vote, but I wanted to help my family and the citizens of Alabama.

Big Momma said that people who were able to vote could make decisions for themselves and their community. Voting also allowed people to choose who would represent them in the government. Without the right to vote, we were powerless.

Montgomery, Alabama, was almost fifty miles from Selma, where I lived. I had never even been to Montgomery before. My whole life had been spent in Selma with just Big Momma and our pet Maltese named Angel. My mother died when I was born, and my father worked as a porter with the railroad. He was hardly home.

I had begged Big Momma for almost a week before she agreed to let me march to Montgomery. The walk to Montgomery would take at least three days. All the marchers were to meet at Brown Chapel. The plan was to walk toward US Highway 80 and then head east toward Montgomery County. We would march during the day and rest at night.

I decided to put on my best Sunday dress. Big Momma had made it for me on my twelfth birthday. She found the finest royal blue cotton fabric for the dress and the finest shiny buttons that looked like eight little diamonds going down the front. She told me to wear it only on special occasions.

Before stepping into the dress like a fashion model, I put on a petticoat. It made the bottom of the dress full and puffy.

Big Momma had made two matching bows for my hair. I liked to wear my hair in two braids, one braid on the left side of my head and one braid on the right. I tied each of the bows to the end of my braids like a Christmas ribbon. Then I put some of Big Momma’s sweet-smelling perfume on and a little shiny lip gloss.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw a pecan-tan-skinned girl smiling. The governor is going to be quite impressed when he sees me, I thought.

From the drawer, I grabbed a pair of white socks before hopping down the stairs toward the kitchen to get breakfast. Big Momma was placing breakfast on the dining room table instead of the kitchen table where we normally ate. Angel followed her around the table, waiting for a morsel to fall.

The table was lined with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, grits, biscuits, wheat toast, sliced apples and pears, and a pitcher of orange juice.

Big Momma sets dishes of food on the dining table, while the dog, Angel, is standing near her feet. In the background Essie is coming down, the stairs, holding a pair of socks.

"Deacon Jones, Sister Jones, and Donna are coming over for breakfast," said Big Momma.

The Joneses were members of Brown Chapel AME like us. Deacon Jones worked with the Brown Chapel Youth Program. He looked after Big Momma and me since my father was always away.

His wife, Sister Jones, was the leader of the Rejoice Youth