Since she still needed to commute back and forth between Memphis and Woodstock in order to get to her teaching job, she continued riding in the ladies’ car for months. On May 4, 1884, Ida was reading a newspaper in the ladies’ coach when a conductor once more ordered her to move to the “colored” train car. This time she decided to get off the train and immediately visit a lawyer to file a lawsuit against the Chesapeake, Ohio and Southwestern Railroad. The laws of the time stated that segregated accommodations would be permitted as long as they were separate and equal. Since the colored car doubled as a smoking car where white men were free to smoke and disrespect Black women, she challenged on the grounds that the accommodations were unequal. In addition, she found it particularly insulting that a Black woman who was taking care of white children could ride in the ladies’ car, but she as an educated, professional, adult woman could not.
Ida later wrote about the incident’s larger context in The Reason Why the Colored American Is Not in the World’s Columbian Exposition: The Afro-American’s Contribution to Columbian Literature, a text that also included writings from Frederick Douglass, journalist and religious leader Irvine Garland Penn, and her future husband, Ferdinand L. Barnett: “White men pass through these ‘colored cars’ and ride in them whenever they feel inclined to do so, but no colored woman however refined, well-educated or well-dressed may ride in the ladies, or first-class coach, in any of these states unless she is a nurse-maid traveling with a white child.”
She knew she wasn’t alone in facing the wrath of white people who believed her to be a second-class citizen, so she decided to fight back once more. This time there was no biting, but Ida’s effect was certainly felt. At twenty-two years old, Ida B. Wells decided to take on the whole company: the powerful Chesapeake, Ohio and Southwestern Railroad would have to contend with her. She hired the only Black lawyer in Memphis and sued based on the fact that the rail cars were separate and unequal.
An act to establish the Chesapeake, Ohio and Southwestern Railroad Company within the Commonwealth of Kentucky (1878). Wells sued the company after being removed from the whites-only “ladies’ car.” It was a success—until the Supreme Court reversed the decision.
Ida didn’t realize it at the time, but the case was much bigger than her. A ruling in her favor would have set a precedent of Black people challenging Jim Crow laws. Young and naïve, she was shocked and hurt to learn that her attorney had been bought off by the railroad.
Still, Ida refused to give up. Though her first attorney sold her out, she decided to press forward with the case. She had no choice but to hire a white attorney and settled on James M. Greer. He did such a great job that on Christmas Eve 1884, the circuit court ruled that the “plaintiff [Wells] was wrongfully ejected from the defendant’s [the railroad’s] car” and that she be awarded five hundred dollars in damages, an amount that was equivalent to almost a year of her teacher’s salary.
The next morning, on Christmas Day, Ida received one of the greatest gifts she could imagine: an article in the Memphis Daily Avalanche about her victory. Even though she probably smarted at the racially insulting reference to her, Ida felt a sense of satisfaction as she saw the headline:
A DARKY DAMSEL OBTAINS A VERDICT FOR DAMAGES AGAINST THE CHESAPEAKE & OHIO RAILROAD—VERDICT FOR $500
At the age of twenty-two she had taken on a powerful railroad and won. This was the first step in what would become her lifelong crusade for justice.
Unfortunately, her joy did not last long. She never could have imagined that Black people would struggle for another eighty years before Jim Crow laws were officially struck down.
Her elation was quickly squashed when a railroad attorney visited her a few days later with news that the company wanted her to back down. They threatened to appeal the case to the Tennessee Supreme Court, which insulted Ida. She refused to relent, believing that the law would be on her side.
Unfortunately, two years later on April 5, 1887, her case was overturned by the state Supreme Court. Not only did Ida never see the five hundred dollars that had been originally awarded, but she was ordered to pay two hundred dollars in court fees.
This was a stunning blow, both emotionally and financially, as she only earned around sixty dollars a month. The justices had ignored the evidence and had made their decision according to “personal prejudices” against Black people. She felt totally defeated, and the blow led to her disillusionment with the legal system. For Black people in America, there was nowhere to get justice.
On April 11, six days later, Ida wrote in her diary:
The Supreme Court reversed the decision of the lower court in my behalf, last week. Went to see Judge Greer this afternoon & he tells me four of them cast their personal prejudices in the scale of justice & decided in face of all the evidence to the contrary that the smoking car was a first class coach for colored people as provided for by that statue that calls for separate coaches but first class, for the races. I felt so disappointed, because I had hoped such great things from my suit for my people generally. I have firmly believed all along that the law was on our side and would, when we appealed to it, give us justice. I feel shorn of that belief and utterly discouraged, and just now if it were possible would gather my race in my arms and fly far away with them. O God is there no redress, no peace, no justice in this land for us? Thou hast always fought the battles of the weak & oppressed. Come to my aid at this moment & teach me what to do, for I am sorely, bitterly disappointed. Show us the way, even as Thou led the children of Israel out of bondage into the promised land.
This experience was a turning point in Wells’s life. The decision diminished her faith in the system. She was proud that she had the audacity to stand up for herself and vowed that she would never stop seeking justice.
THE FIGHT CONTINUES
The push for equality continued for decades after Ida’s fights. The 1960s saw an outpouring of anti-segregation demonstrations and political organizing. Among the most widely known figures from this time are the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., whose landmark “I Have a Dream” speech was just one small part of a long, storied legacy of championing the rights of Black people and all those who face injustice in America. Rosa Parks famously refused to give up her seat for a white patron, as was demanded of Black people at the time, but she, too, dedicated years of her life to a much bigger movement—their contributions, like Ida’s, weren’t just snapshots or bite-sized quotes. The Black Panther activist Angela Davis continues her work to end the injustice of the criminal justice system to this day; the late U.S. representative John Lewis, who died in July 2020 while serving his seventeenth term in the House, first joined civil rights struggles nearly seven decades ago.
These are some of the most well-known figures from this time, many of whom still carry on their work. Others included Bayard Rustin, who advised Dr. King and led efforts that ultimately became the March on Washington. The Black Panther Kwame Ture, born Stokely Carmichael in Trinidad, was one of the chairmen of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Diane Nash, one of the most esteemed student leaders of the sit-in movement in Nashville, Tennessee, later went on to campaign for voting rights in Alabama, and her efforts helped lead to the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Fannie Lou Hamer, a Mississippi-born activist who organized the state’s Freedom Summer along with SNCC, was the cofounder and vice-chair of the Freedom Democratic Party. She, too, made tremendous strides in securing suffrage for Black people around the country despite constant threats.
The Power of the Press
The people must know before they can act and there is no educator to compare with the press.
—Ida B. Wells
Though the legal system had failed Ida, she would never have been content to accept injustice just because one method hadn’t worked. And sure enough, another way clicked.
She would use her voice to fight, through writing. Before experiencing the crushing blow of legal defeat, Ida began her foray into journali
sm with the Evening Star, the publication of her local lyceum, or literary club. Ever full of charisma, she not only wrote and edited the Evening Star, she also read aloud from its pages every Friday night. Ida’s readings regularly packed the lyceum, including with nonmembers. One local Baptist pastor, a man named R. N. Countee, came to hear Ida read.
Although Ida only regarded writing for the newsletter as a creative outlet, her talent stood out and caught the attention of Rev. Countee. He approached her with an offer to write a weekly column for a larger publication with a broader audience—the Living Way newspaper. The idea excited Ida, even though the opportunity did not pay.
Ida accepted Rev. Countee’s offer. Soon she began writing a column for the Living Way. According to our family stories, Ida had seen her name written on a document, and it looked as if the d was written as two letters: o and l. She liked that different name and decided to use it as a pen name to start her journalism career. “Iola” was born.
In the 1880s, it was extremely rare for a Black woman to write about racial issues. Few women of any race went into journalism. Less than five percent of journalists were women, out of those who worked for the almost two hundred Black-owned newspapers. Now Ida was one of them. Most female journalists of the time—Black and white—wrote on subjects that were considered “women’s topics”: book reviews, school news, fashion, home decorating, or cleaning. Aside from these narrow categories, women journalists were also relegated to writing articles about marriage and children.
But that was never going to work for Ida, and Rev. Countee knew that when he hired her. Ida had strong opinions about everything and believed she had the right to express them. Ida’s primary aim was to write toward justice, not just away from racism. And so in her columns, everyone was fair game for “Iola” to criticize—Black, white, men, women, institutions, ministers, and laypeople. When she believed that Black people who were considered leaders did nothing to help their people, she laid into them.
Iola’s articles were popular and began to spread across the country. A number of Black-owned newspapers, including the Little Rock Sun and the Washington Bee, reprinted them. Several other journals asked her to write articles as well, including the New York Freeman, a major newspaper edited by the civil rights leader T. Thomas Fortune. Despite their immense appreciation for her writing on discrimination, most newspapers could only offer to pay her in free copies of their publication (a struggle that may be all too familiar for those who take up a similar craft today).
Her growing journalism career got a boost once she met Rev. William J. Simmons, editor of the American Baptist. He was visiting Memphis from Kentucky, and said he wanted to meet “the brilliant Iola” after reading and being impressed with several of her articles. He started her on the path to believing she could earn money from her passion when he offered one dollar per week for her work as a correspondent for his newspaper.
Up until that point, she was simply thrilled to be expressing herself through words. She had received rave reviews for her work from the likes of T. Thomas Fortune, who said, “If Iola were a man she would be a humming independent in politics. She has plenty of nerve and is as sharp as a steel trap.”
Men and women alike appreciated her work as she challenged both gender and racial roles. Ida was making a name for herself as a journalist, and to her delight was nicknamed “Princess of the Press.” She enjoyed the attention, even though it came at the price of being judged and evaluated by her looks, sometimes negatively. To this day, the burden of being judged by one’s appearance rather than aptitude or achievement in a professional role is one that women bear.
Even though she enjoyed and was focused on building her journalism career, she also was fashion conscious. In fact, she lusted after having pretty dresses made and obtaining hats and matching parasols. She found herself in debt at times in order to satisfy her desire for fine clothes, and paid for them in installments. In her diary, she fretted about how to obtain the nice things she desired and accounted for all of her expenditures in excruciating detail. She definitely needed to watch every penny, as she was not only taking care of herself but also financially supporting her siblings.
She also wore her hair in its natural state—usually in some updo style—for her entire life. This might not have been considered radical during her time, but in the twenty-first century, we’ve seen a need emerge for legislation that protects Black women’s freedom to wear their hair naturally without discrimination.
In 2020, the state of California passed the CROWN Act, making it illegal for people to be punished for wearing their hair in braids, locs, twists, and other styles that had been deemed “unprofessional.”
The fact that Black women are still judged and sometimes punished for their natural appearance has created an extra burden that requires enormous internal strength to overcome within American society. In recent years, though, many artists have created works that promote self-love despite these hurdles. The director Matthew A. Cherry’s animated short film, Hair Love, took home an Oscar at the 2020 ceremony, the award a monumental win for Cherry and his team—but also for the young Black girls who watched the delightful ode to natural kinks and curls.
Ida’s words didn’t just reach broad audiences, though. They also helped her navigate a life that was growing increasingly complicated. Indeed, changing circumstances in Ida’s teaching career—the one she’d known much of her adult life—were making her deeply unhappy. She knew that journalism, and its power to affect people beyond her, was what she most wanted to do.
Ida’s frustrations came to a head on her twenty-fifth birthday. In a journal entry that night, she wrote:
This morning I stand face to face with twenty five years of life, that ere the day is gone will have passed by me forever. The experiences of a quarter of a century of life are my own, beginning with this, for me, new year. Already I stand upon one fourth of the extreme limit (100 years), and have passed one third of the span of life which, according to Psalmist, is allotted to humanity. As this day’s arrival enables to me to count the twenty fifth milestone, I go back over them in memory and review my life. The first ten are so far away, in the distance as to make those at the beginning indistinct; the next 5 are remembered as a kind of butterfly existence at school, and household duties at home; within the last ten I have suffered more, learned more, lost more than I ever expect to, again. In the last decade, I’ve only begun to live—to know life as a whole with its joys and sorrows. Today I write these lines with a heart overflowing with thankfulness to My Heavenly Father for His wonderful love & kindness; for His bountiful goodness to me, in that He has not caused me to want, & that I have always been provided with the means to make an honest livelihood. And as I rehearse these measures my soul is singing the glad refrain “Bless the Lord O my soul and all that is within me, Bless His Holy Name for all His benefits.” When I turn to sum up my own accomplishments I am not so well pleased. I have not used the opportunities I had to the best advantage and find myself intellectually lacking. And accepting my regret that I am not so good a Christian as the goodness of my Father demands, there is nothing for which I lament the wasted opportunities as I do my neglect to pick up the crumbs of knowledge that were within my reach. Consequently I find myself at this age as deficient in a comprehensive knowledge as the veriest school-girl just entering the higher course. I heartily deplore the neglect. God grant I may be given firmness of purpose sufficient to essay & continue its eradication! Thou knowest I hunger & thirst after righteousness & knowledge. O, give me the steadiness of purpose, the will to acquire both. Twenty-five years old today! May another 10 years find me increased in honesty & purity of purpose & motive!
Ida spent the next few years writing articles that had a broad reach because they were reprinted in many newspapers. She became so well-known for her writing about racial discrimination that she was unanimously elected convention secretary at the 1889 meeting of the Afro-American Press Convention in Washington, DC.
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p; There she met several renowned Black leaders, including Frederick Douglass, a formerly enslaved man who had become the nineteenth century’s most famous spokesman for the rights of African Americans. He was born in Maryland around 1817 and had escaped north as a young man. Douglass was a formidable man: he published a famous and powerful autobiography, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass; began the antislavery newspaper the North Star; and turned his New York home into a station on the Underground Railroad, the lifesaving network of hiding places for escaped slaves.
THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD
The Underground Railroad was a network of secret routes and safe houses run by people, both white and African American, who offered shelter and aid to enslaved people fleeing into free states and Canada. As the historian Eric Foner wrote in his book Gateway to Freedom: The Hidden History of the Underground Railroad, “Newspaper advertisements seeking the recapture of fugitives frequently described runaways as ‘cheerful’ and ‘well-disposed,’ as if their escapes were inexplicable. But these [same] notices inadvertently offered a record of abusive treatment—mentions of scars and other injuries that would help identify the runaway.”
Though it wasn’t a literal railroad, the network operated from the early- to mid-1800s, at a time when the Fugitive Slave Act of 1793 meant that officials from free states were required by law to assist slaveholders when their “property” went missing. The Underground Railroad was as risky as it was lifesaving.
Frederick Douglass’s the North Star (1848). Douglass was impressed by Wells, and he encouraged her writing and played a hand in her later overseas speaking opportunities.
Ida was incredibly flattered by the encouragement of Douglass, who said he admired her, even though she was about forty-five years his junior—young enough to be his granddaughter.
Ida B. the Queen Page 4
