An Open Letter to James Lawson about Resistance

Dr. James Lawson,

I remember the first time I met you. Professor Janet Wolf, who often spoke of you with so much respect, encouraged me to take a summer class that was part of the “Word and World” conference in Memphis. Though I am from Tennessee, this was my first visit to the city. At 22, fresh from an internship in Ozark, Alabama, I took the class to expedite my graduation. Before the internship, I had been terminated from a welding job with a subcontractor of Nissan. My life at that time was a frustrating cycle: I needed a car to get to work, and I needed work to pay the note on that car. The job offered minimal vacation days and barely any healthcare benefits, and upward mobility was often determined by the color of your skin. I returned to school to escape the relentless grind of manual labor and reclaim my humanity.

The class in Memphis was meant to be just another step towards my degree. I drove two and a half hours from Nashville to the University of Memphis, where Professor Wolf introduced us to your teachings. She often described you as her mentor, someone who influenced her strategic mind for justice. You inspired her to push the church beyond mere proselytization, urging pastors to liberate people and render them valuable in this life, not just the next. This approach to theology resonated deeply with me. As a preacher’s kid and someone involved in ministry (at that time), I struggled with the notion that our current lives were merely dress rehearsals for the afterlife, especially when it seemed that those with lighter skin got to enjoy their good lives now while my community was on the waitlist.

In Memphis, I heard your story about being a pacifist and your time in prison for refusing to join the military. Your stance on war and your commitment to nonviolent resistance were revelations to me. You spoke of the “resistance movement,” never referring to it as the Civil Rights movement because, in your view, there was nothing civil about the injustices faced by Black and Brown people. Your emphasis on resisting injustice rather than merely seeking civility struck a chord with me. It helped me understand why the struggles I and my father faced were not just unfortunate realities but injustices to be fought against.

Watching my father, a pastor, lose his job to downsizing and then take a lower-paying job with a subcontractor of his former employer was a source of deep frustration for me. For a year, he drove to St. Louis every weekend for work, only to return home on weekends to prepare sermons for a congregation an hour away. He did this out of a sense of duty, but no one questioned why he had to endure the hardship. Fast forward from 2001 to 2006, and I often wondered if this was just how the world worked — families trapped in cycles of struggle despite their best efforts.

As I reflect on the 95 years of your life on earth, I am emotionally overwhelmed with gratitude and grief for the profound impact you’ve had on my life and so many others. Your life and unwavering commitment to justice was apart of what inspired me to become a community organizer.  I feel compelled to share how you have shaped my journey.

Your teachings gave me a new perspective. They helped me see that the injustices my father and I experienced were not right and should not be accepted as the norm. Your life’s work inspired me to resist, to organize, and to fight for justice in my community. For this, I am eternally grateful. Thank you, Dr. Lawson, for your 95 years of wisdom, courage and commitment. You will remain with me, along with Gus Newport, John Lewis, C.T. Vivian and so many more of my Resistance Movement ancestors. I hope to carry forward the torch of your legacy through whatever capacity I am able to do so. 

Rest well and Be well,

Eric E. Brown, Jr.

Featured image: Photo by Unseen Histories on Unsplash