I almost couldn't believe I was blessed to have this intimate moment with the creative mind behind The Mothers of Gynecology Park in Montgomery. The Browder family is Black Alabama excellence and meeting Michelle Browder, Executive Director of The More Up Campus was an honor. The questions rolled from my brain and out of mouth like a red carpet. By the end of my day, by wallet had rolled too. I purchased some jewelry for myself and some gear for my Team at work, so that they could feel just a smidgeon of what I felt in that place!
"Browder's latest creation, the 'Mothers of Gynecology' monument honors the sacrifice of Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey, the enslaved experimental subjects of the so-called 'father of gynecology,' J. Marion Sims." It is a tool to teach and reimagine the true story by facing past injustices and celebrating the courage of overlooked heroes.
When I first pulled up, there were a few cars around, but no people. The elder and young man in the parking lot were together in the final car besides mine. I was stopping over to see the park on a road trip and I was putting my shoes back on. The elder woman had walked up to my side window and waved. It almost startled me, except she resembled my aunties, so I smiled instead. She asked if I had talked to Michelle. I have only seen Michelle on my computer and television screen. I have only internet stalked her art and have been blown away by the roll out of this park over the past 6 months! I calmly said, "No, but it would be a pleasure to talk with her. Do you know if she is near?" She assured me that if I saw a certain car, that was her. I appreciated that woman. Her familiar face made me ease into this unfamiliar town.
It was gloomy, misty, and after about 10 minutes of sitting in the parking lot, I decided to step outside. I stretched and walked half a block to the road, to see the path clearly to the park. As soon as I got in visible range of the outside gate, I was floored. I may have stifled a praise-dance or Sunday shout coming through my heels. Before taking in the massive statues from a distance, I appreciated every gate panel surrounding the park.
The gate alone, which I consider the wrapping, was painstaking artistry. This is a gift. I was itching to get inside and look at the other pieces in detail.
I could feel the energy of these statues radiating towards me from my place on the sidewalk. My walk around was intentionally slow, as though I were the smoldering sage. The gate was locked, and at this point I would be complete if I had to drive home right now and visit on a different trip.
I saw a red trolly pull up and I was confused for a moment, since it wasn't the car I was looking for. I recognized the logo from The More Up Campus website, and realized that this company would be able to answer a couple questions for me. Less than 30 seconds passed when I saw red glasses and realized that the driver was also Michelle Browder, the park creator! I later learned that she owns the tour company that runs these beautiful trolleys around Montgomery, and educates people on Black history.
In that moment, I was fangirling. As she was unloading the passengers from the vehicle, I asked about ticket prices. The park admission tickets are sold on the website, but I had cash. I ran to the car so quickly that the borrowed camera hanging from my neck was hitting my ribs. I was going to pay any way I needed to experience this park, and I didn't want to miss one sentence of how Michelle presented her work.
Her tour was meaningful and genuine; you must see it yourself. The artistry is absolutely striking, the construction of the concept was executed like nothing I had ever seen, and the materials told their own story. The people whose tour I crashed were two Black women and a White man. I recognized one woman, who was a well known maternal and child health program director in Kentucky. I briefly caught up with her and said hello to the others. I didn't talk long with anyone right then. I was enthralled and wanted to be consumed in these statues.
From the outdoor installations, to the indoor gallery and meditation areas, Michelle showed us where to begin understanding and processing each piece of the Mothers of Genecology experience.
The others left soon after the tour, and I continued the conversation. She told me she had an errand to run downtown and asked if I want to complete the tour that I didn't officially begin. That is code for, "You riding or nah?" I said yes, immediately! This day could not get any better for a birth equity nerd. We took the trolley downtown, which was no farther than 2 miles on the windiest path. In no time, we had cruised on rolling hills onto a wide, but old looking street. The facades were historical. We stepped out of the vehicle and Michelle said, "Read that." I flashed back to 4th grade read-aloud time. Oh, I'm a good reader! I read this placard in front of a white building.
This was the hospital. This was the site where J. Marion Sims mutilated those girls. Michelle told me a bit of what was really happening at that time, and on that property. My imagination wanted to know what was happening on that street in the days where Anarcha, Betsey, and Lucy had to walk to and from this hospital. I flashed back to an experience of harm that I have embodied and suppressed, because I am sometimes scared to access. The fear was palpable, not the fear that immediately motivates one to fight or flight, but the anxious "freeze" mechanism that intensifies to a fever pitch. I could only be led to these psycho-emotional restorative-justice moments by people with divine purpose, who can doula me through the experience. Now I am here, the place that I only talk about in birth equity trainings and research. I cannot un-see nor un-feel the depth of pain wrapped up in this land. I am now responsible to wade through violent sexual memories that will inevitably lead to an epiphany. If I chicken out and stop before the internal work is done, my unprocessed thoughts can become quicksand. With an expectation of healing and a spirit of peace, I looked out into that street from the windowfront.
I bowed my head and asked myself if I would have been as strong as them. In a moment of silence, behind my eyes rushed memories I've never lived and scenes I could only recall in my imagination. The historic facades of these buildings and the absence of traffic really took it there for me. What happened behind Lucy's eyes, looking into that street ? What lay behind Betsey's eyes in her pregnancy experience? What was behind Anarcaha's eyes, looking into the ceiling, or at Sims, into her own eyelids, or into our future?
I needed several cleansing breaths. We did that together. On the ride back to the Park, she gracefully answered all of my questions about her path to metalwork and multimedia art. After a while, I had to be nice and agree to leave! (HAHA) I did not want to slow her down after she had poured so much into me. I gathered my gifts from her shop and left grinning. ear to ear.
I hollered a good bye at her, and to myself, "Incredible. Oh my god."
Consider visiting The More Up Campus in Montgomery, Alabama, or donate to the ongoing capital campaign for the continued strategic development of the campus and its programming.
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