Courtesy of Joan Johns Cobbs
Behind a deep-purple curtain on the stage of her school’s auditorium, Barbara Johns, 16, stood waiting. What she was about to do could put her—and her friends and family—in danger. But she wasn’t afraid. The curtain rose. A gasp rippled across the room as hundreds of students—expecting to see their principal—looked up at her with surprise.
It was the spring of 1951 in the rural community of Farmville, Virginia. At the time, African Americans like Barbara were often treated with hatred and bigotry. In the South, Jim Crow laws and customs prevented many Black people from exercising their right to vote and forced them to use separate public facilities, including parks, movie theaters, swimming pools, and water fountains (see "You Might Need to Know . . . ," below).
In Virginia—and 20 other states—Black students and white students were also required to attend segregated schools. The schools reserved for Black kids and those for white kids were supposed to be equal, but they never were.
Barbara’s school, the all-Black Robert Russa Moton High School, for example, was literally falling apart. The ceilings were so cracked that Barbara and her classmates had to use umbrellas indoors when it rained. The toilets barely worked, and the one-story building had no gym, cafeteria, or science lab.
The school was also severely overcrowded. It was built to hold 180 students, yet 450 were enrolled there. To create more space, some classes were held in a run-down bus in the parking lot or in shacks in the schoolyard made of wood and paper.
Meanwhile, the all-white Farmville High School just minutes from Moton had spacious classrooms, modern heating, and a real cafeteria.
When Moton parents and teachers complained to the school board, they were told that a new school would be built soon. It was clear, though, that “soon” would probably never come.
Barbara Johns, 16, stood waiting behind a deep-purple curtain on the stage of her school’s auditorium. What she was about to do could put her and her friends and family in danger. But she was not afraid. The curtain rose. A gasp rippled across the room as hundreds of students looked up at her with surprise. They had expected to see their principal, not her.
It was the spring of 1951 in the rural community of Farmville, Virginia. At the time, African Americans like Barbara were often treated with hatred and bigotry. In the South, Jim Crow laws and customs prevented many Black people from exercising their right to vote. They also forced African Americans to use separate public facilities. That included parks, movie theaters, swimming pools, and water fountains (see “You Might Need to Know . . .,” below).
In Virginia and 20 other states, Black students and white students also had to go to segregated schools. The schools for Black kids and those for white kids were supposed to be equal, but they never were.
Barbara went to the all-Black Robert Russa Moton High School. It was literally falling apart. The ceilings were so cracked that Barbara and her classmates had to use umbrellas indoors when it rained. The toilets barely worked. The one-story building had no gym, cafeteria, or science lab.
The school was also very overcrowded. It was built to hold 180 students, yet 450 were enrolled there. To create more space, some classes were held in a run-down bus in the parking lot. Others were held in shacks in the schoolyard made of wood and paper.
The all-white Farmville High School was just minutes from Moton. It had large classrooms, modern heating, and a real cafeteria.
Moton parents and teachers complained to the school board. They were told that a new school would be built soon. But it was clear that “soon” would probably never come.