Excerpt from Chasing Me to My Grave by Winfred Rembert, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Even though it was peaceful, the demonstration was scary. Angry-faced White folks were standing around with their weapons. It was like they were just waiting to jump us. They had guns and axe handles, and we had nothing to fight back with, not even a stick. I had never participated in anything like that, and I wasn't really demonstrating like I was supposed to. I wasn't up front, ready to take a beating. I was holding back, somewhere in the middle of the crowd. I was more watching than anything. I didn't want to take a chance on getting bit by a dog or hit with a billy club. But while I was there, and afterward, I thought about it and decided that if I was going to go, I might as well get out front. So, the next time I went, I didn't hold back. I jumped off the bus and started yelling, "Come on, y'all. Let's do this!"

A big crowd was gathering. People came in together, from every which way. This time, the strategy was that when they ask us to move on, we won't, because we want to get our point across. We want to integrate. We started marching down the street, singing and demonstrating. It was a slow march, just nice and slow, so we know we're going to get into a confrontation. I'm talking about when they come and ask you to move on, and you don't move on. You might slightly move on, but you don't move to the pace that they want you to move.

The first thing they bring out is their dogs, holding them back some, but they are threatening you. I really didn't want to get bit by those dogs. Then here come the fire department with the hoses. A lot of people get hurt when they turn the fire hoses on you, and I'm pretty sure people got hurt that day, but all that was a little farther down the street. I was up at the other end where the dogs were.

What happened next is that some civilian White folk showed up with shotguns. No uniforms. Some used their guns as billy clubs and were hitting people. Then a gunshot went off and everybody started running and scattering. It was mayhem. I started running too. I knew a little bit about Americus, so I knew where to run. I didn't wait for anybody to run with. I ran down an alley that was just big enough to drive a car down. It was a small alley off Cotton Avenue, just north of West Forsyth Street, right in the center of Americus. There were a few cars parked here and there. I ran down that alley, and when I stopped to catch a breath, I looked back and saw these two White men coming with shotguns. They didn't have those shotguns just to shoot squirrels, I'm telling you. They weren't playing. It happened there was a car sitting there, and I saw the keys sitting in it. Folks left the keys in the car back in the day. I jumped in and took off.

I took that car and drove it to Cuthbert. While I'm driving, I'm thinking to myself, What am I going to do? I didn't know whether to ditch the car in Cuthbert or to keep driving it, or where to go or who to tell. I was worried about staying alive. That's what I was thinking about most. I took those folks' car and I thought I was going to get killed when the police caught me. One thing you just don't do in Georgia is steal. You can kill somebody and you won't get as much time in jail as you would if you took something from White folks. White folks in Georgia don't like for you to take things from them.

You know how you might think one thing and you do another? I was thinking about getting rid of the car, but then the more I rode around in it, I'm saying to myself, Let me keep it for a while. I asked Duck whether he'd like to take a ride in the car. I was riding around in it just for the hell of it. It was something to do. The next thing I knew, the police were riding behind me. If I got it right, my friend Jimmy Greene was in the car with me. I said, "Jimmy, you want to get out? Because I'm going to keep going. I'm taking them for a chase." Even though I knew I was going to jail, I didn't want to give up. I wanted the police to have to earn their money. After all the abuse I'd seen them put Black folks through my whole life, I didn't want to make it easy for them. That's another reason why I think they hated me so. I gave them problems. They're used to telling a Black man to stop or come back, and he'll do that. They actually thought I would stop. I didn't.

Excerpted from Chasing Me to My Grave: An Artist's Memoir of the Jim Crow South. Used with the permission of the publisher, Bloomsbury Publishing. Text copyright © 2021 by Winfred Rembert and Erin I. Kelly. Artwork copyright © 2021 by Winfred Rembert/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.