Some of you may have seen the news recently of the death of Claudette Colvin at the age of 86. In March of 1955, nine months before the world would come to know Rosa Parks, 15-year-old Claudette Colvin was riding a bus in Montgomery, Alabama, seated in what was then called the “colored” section. When the bus grew crowded, the driver ordered her to give up her seat to a white passenger. Claudette, who had recently learned about the 14th Amendment in school, refused.
Later she recalled, “I felt like Sojourner Truth was pushing down on one shoulder and Harriet Tubman was pushing down on the other—saying, ‘Sit down, girl.’ I was glued to my seat.” For her courage, Claudette was dragged off the bus by police while shouting, “It’s my constitutional right!” She was convicted on multiple charges related to Montgomery’s segregation laws.
Though Claudette went on with her life and eventually moved to the Bronx, that conviction entered when she was just 15 years old remained on her record for decades. Technically placed on probation “pending good behavior,” she never received notice that it had ended. For years, her family lived with the fear that she could be arrested for any reason if she ever returned to Alabama.
That situation was finally addressed in 2021, when her attorney went to court to seek the expungement of her juvenile record. After months of effort, a judge signed the order erasing her conviction.
When she heard the news, Claudette said, “I guess you can say that now I am no longer a juvenile delinquent. I am an old woman now. Having my records expunged will mean something to my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”
Claudette Colvin’s story reminds us that justice is not only about courageous moments, it is also about what happens afterward. Harm can linger for decades. Systems can fail people quietly, long after public attention has moved on. And healing often requires someone to return, years later, and say: this was wrong, and it deserves to be made right.
That truth resonates deeply with the work we do at WJCS. Every day, our employees stand with people whose lives have been shaped by trauma and systems that did not serve them as they should have. We help carry what history has handed them and create space for dignity, repair, and hope.
As we honor Black History Month, may we continue to learn from the past, recognize the contributions of our colleagues today, and recommit ourselves to the long, patient work of justice and care.
