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black history month

Race & Ethnicity

Elizabeth Eckford made history at age 15. Here's the full story behind the iconic photo.

She faced the angry white mob—and the Arkansas National Guard—alone on her first day of high school in 1957. But that was only the beginning.

15-year-old Elizabeth Eckford was one of the Little Rock Nine who attended the first integrated high school in Arkansas.

On September 4, 1957, nine students arrived at Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas for their first day of school. They were bright students, chosen for their academic excellence to attend the most prestigious school in the state. They were there to learn—and to make history as the first Black students to attend the previously all-white school.

They wouldn't enter the school that day, nor for weeks after. Their entrance was barred not only by an angry white mob but by the Arkansas National Guard who were called in by the governor to prevent the students from integrating the school.

Eight of the nine arrived together that first day in a carpool arranged by the local NAACP chapter. One student, 15-year-old Elizabeth Eckford, didn't have a telephone at home and was unable to be reached to learn about the carpool plan. She took the city bus, which dropped her off within two blocks of the school. As she approached, she faced the racist crowd alone.


One photo encapsulated much—but not all—of the moment. We see Eckford being followed by a group of angry white segregationists, but we can't see that they were yelling, "Lynch her! Lynch her!" We can see the Arkansas National Guard, but we can't see that President Eisenhower would have to call in federal troops weeks later to finally get the students into the building. We see Elizabeth Eckford walking with her head high, but we can't see the courage and resolve it took her not to walk through a crowd of people threatening to kill her just for wanting to go to school.

We see a snapshot of a horrific moment in American history, but we can't see what happened after.

After being barred entrance to the school, Eckford tried to return home, but she was unable to go back to the bus stop where she'd been dropped off due to the 250 or so angry white people behind her. She decided to try to get to the next bus stop a block ahead of her.

Buddy Lonesome of the St. Louis Argus described what he had witnessed at the scene: "The mob of twisted whites, galvanized into vengeful action by the inaction of the heroic state militia, was not willing that the young school girl should get off so easily. Elizabeth Eckford had walked into the wolf's lair, and now that they felt she was fair game, the drooling wolves took off after their prey. The hate mongers, who look exactly like other, normal white men and women, took off down the street after the girl."

She would get home eventually. At first, she sat on the edge of the bus stop bench as someone yelled "Drag her over to this tree!" A small group of journalists formed a makeshift barrier between her and the crowd. New York Times reporter Benjamin Fine sat down next to her, put his arm around her and said, "Don't let them see you cry." Later, after being asked if he'd overstepped his professional bounds, Fine replied, "A reporter has to be a human being."

A white woman, Grace Lorch, escorted Eckford onto the bus, but not before she told the crowd that they'd all be ashamed of themselves someday. Eckford was relieved when Lorch got off the bus; her help, though undoubtedly well-intentioned, had only inflamed the hatred of the crowd. (Lorch and her husband would eventually move their family to Canada after facing harassment, job losses, and accusations of being communists for their civil rights activism.)

After exiting the bus, Eckford immediately went to find her mother. She fell into her arms and the two cried together, neither saying a word.

What about the student yelling at Eckford in the photo? Her name was Hazel Bryan—later becoming Hazel Massery. She was the daughter of parents who were unabashed about their racism.

Massery would have a change of heart in the years that followed. She became a follower of the civil rights movement and began to understand how wrong she had been. In 1962 or 1963, she called Eckford to apologize. But she didn't stop there. She left her intolerant church, volunteered with projects to serve underprivileged Black students and single Black mothers, read the works of Cornel West and Shelby Steele and argued about racial issues with her mother.

Eventually, Massery and Eckford realized they had a lot in common as individuals and became friends. They even appeared together on The Oprah Winfrey Show and talked about reconciliation. But the friendship did not last. The rest of the Little Rock Nine had never been fans of the friendship, nor of Massery's appearance at public events about their history. Massery seems to have felt frustrated that Eckford wouldn't absolve her completely of her past racist behavior, and she ultimately cut off ties with her.

Ten years ago, David Margolick, who had interviewed both women multiple times over the years, asked Eckford and Massery to pose together for one last photo. Eckford agreed, but Massery refused.

Both Eckford and Massery are still alive. Eckford celebrated her 80th birthday in October with a small celebration in front of Central High School, with student members of the Civil Rights Memory Project and faculty there to honor her. This is not history from some far distant era. People are alive who saw it happen with their own eyes.

And this isn't even the full scope of the story. The Little Rock Nine spent the school year being brutally harassed even after they were finally allowed into the building. And both Eckford and Massery's stories include many more details, which David Margolick has covered in Vanity Fair and Slate. His storytelling illustrates how the story behind the iconic photo is worse (at the time) and more complex (in the long run) than the simplistic narratives we often hear about the civil rights era and are definitely worth a read.

How does Eckford feel about the photo? She told the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette that she sometimes feels nothing when she sees it and sometimes it bowls her over. But she's never felt good about the photo, nor does she see herself in it the way others do.

"They talk about it as strength," she said, "But I've never considered myself a strong person."

Fair enough. No one should ever have to be strong like that in the first place, especially at 15. May we all remember and learn from this history, and keep working toward a future where racism is truly and fully overcome.


This article originally appeared on 2.5.22

Rosie White, as Viola Davis, as Annalise Keating.

One mommy-daughter duo is winning hearts by taking dress-up to a whole new level.

Six-year-old Rosie White is going viral and making headlines for sharing the inspiring stories of Black entertainers, leaders and history makers—using spot-on costumes made by her mother Kenya White, along with her own special dash of Black girl magic.

You might have recently seen Rosie (@go_rosie_grow) boldly channeling multiaward-winning actress Viola Davis, complete with that meme-worthy “grabbing of the purse stare down” we all know and love from “How to Get Away With Murder.”

I mean, where does Davis end and White begin?! Someone give this child an Emmy!

Even Davis saw the video and reposted it. So I’m sure that’s award enough for now.


As Kenya recalls in a Scary Mommy interview, the idea behind this treasure trove of uncanny impressions came when Rosie was just 3 years old. After her daughter was given a printout about Rosa Parks in preschool, Kenya discovered that little Rosie completely memorized all of the information and could recite back what she had just read.

Inspired, Kenya grabbed a makeshift Rosa Parks costume and grabbed her phone, telling her daughter to “do it again!” And from there, a blend of history, creativity and pure joy ensued.

Since then, Rosie has created hundreds (yes, hundreds) of videos featuring prominent Black figures, and received lots of love for her fun personality and God-given talent. Scary Mommy reported that Whoopi Goldberg sent a box of books and Erykah Badu started following her.

Some of my personal favorites are when Rosie pretends to be male figures. Cause, well … little kids in fake mustaches. That’s a level of adorable that can’t be beat.

Her pop star and diva ones are quite amazing too.

*standing ovation*

For Black History Month, Rosie and Kenya are doubling down and releasing a video every Monday and Thursday. Thursdays honor Black inventors, like Sarah Boone, who improved the ironing board, George Crum, creator of the potato chip, Garret Morgan, inventor of the traffic light.

Seriously, if this child doesn’t become an actress, I hope she becomes a history teacher because I am learning so much. And having fun while doing so.

A lot of inspiration also comes from current events, like track star Sha’Carri Richardson following her unfair disqualification from the Olympic Games.

Her tiny tattoos! I can't even...

And though occasionally Rosie will delve into more serious stories, like Breonna Taylor, Kenya says that the tone is consciously celebratory.

“When I was six years old I learned about the negativity of Black history,” Kenya told Scary Mommy. “I didn’t want to teach her such darkness about Black history. Right now it’s all positivity.”

Positivity, yes. But also inspiration. Especially to young Black girls. Kenya told Good Morning America, the message behind these videos is that “you can do anything you want. You can be Kamala Harris, you can be Michelle Obama, you can be beyond those ladies. Whatever your heart desires, whatever you want to do, whether you're an artist or dancer, into politics, just be the best you you can be."

That includes GMA co-anchor Robin Robertson, who now has a “mini-me,” thanks to Rosie.

Next month is Women’s History Month, and we are all very excited to see what Rosie and Kenya come up with. Perhaps Biden’s Supreme Court nominee? We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, sifting through these videos is more than enough to make you, to quote The Lovin' Spoonful, “believe in magic in a young girl’s heart.”

Way to go Rosie. Following your bliss reminds us all to do the same.

Photos from Delilah Antionette, used with permission

Just a queen sitting on her throne, NBD.

“The story of Blackness isn’t just about trauma. Blackness can be luxurious, filled with joy, and a healing experience.”

You could say this is the mantra playing on repeat in the heart of Delilah Antoinette, founder of Black Girl’s Healing House. Her organization, an invention forged out of necessity and inspired by Antoinette's own lack of resources, proudly “connects Black Women to Black Wellness.”

As a fellow advocate for spiritual healing, I was thrilled to hear Antoinette’s story and honored to share her mission. So many people feel that their circumstances—be it class, culture, or background—somehow exclude them from being able to achieve mental and emotional health. Or, even worse, they’re made to feel that way by the ignorance of others.

This was how her journey began. As a daughter to a single mother who struggled with mental illness, Antoinette had to seek a nurturing environment elsewhere. And, despite growing up “Christian-ish,” the church simply didn’t resonate like she hoped. It wasn’t until she found alternative spiritual concepts, like the Law of Attraction, affirmations and mindfulness, that she started to notice real shifts.


“I was experiencing more joy and freedom,” she told me. “That opened the door for me to explore what else was out there outside of what I knew.”

Though she was on the right path, finding a real sanctuary would still be a challenge, as most wellness spaces felt less than welcoming.

Reflecting on her experience Antoinette says: “Most of the yoga and meditation classes were filled with the privileged and I got stares and uncomfortable smiles. I even got followed around in the store.”

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you need to feel safe in order to heal. You have to trust your environment in order to go deep into the uncomfortable and purge the pain. That can be next to impossible if you are treated like an outsider.

Knowing she couldn’t be the only Black woman struggling to find community in the wellness space, she decided to create her own.

Black Girl’s Healing House offers members free and affordable resources, classes and services related to spirituality, meditation, astrology and mindfulness.

Included in those services is reiki, one of Antoinette’s favorite modalities. Reiki is a form of energy healing that can be performed anywhere at any distance, and can even be used with children or animals. It’s a go-to when she doesn’t feel her best (same, Delilah, same).

In addition, the organization helps Black women find therapists, life coaches, herbalists, nutritionists and more to help them begin their healing journey and live healthier, happier lives. All of the professional healers listed have been personally vetted by Antoinette.

mental health for black women

A recent inspirational post from BGHH's Facebook group.

Currently, Black Girl’s Healing House has a whopping 61,000 members on Facebook alone. What makes it so successful? In a word, sisterhood.

“My team and I do a great job at setting the tone for a safe space but our members really take ownership and pride in being their sister’s keeper to make it a brave space that still holds you accountable,” says Antoinette.

This is truly a game changer for Black women, who deal with both external and internal obstacles when it comes to wellness.

For starters, there’s the sheer lack of physical access.

“If you look at our local Black communities, we have more liquor stores and car washes than recreational centers," says Antoinette. "We would have to drive 25 minute to the side of town where the roads are paved to find therapists, life coaches, juice bars, salt caves and yoga studios.”

Three BGHH members openly sharing in a safe, loving place.

Combine that with an overwhelming amount of ingrained shame surrounding mental health.

“In the Black community we have a wellness stigma that calls everything witchcraft and 'for white people' when it exists outside of church," says Antoinette. "Very few people take their time to educate themselves and fear the unknown. It's like the saying 'Black folks don’t swim.' There is 'Black folks don’t do yoga.' and 'Black folks don’t practice affirmations.'"

To that point, Antoinette adds that “a part of Black culture is the superhero complex,” in which pain is largely kept invisible in order to present strength and resilience. And sadly, all of these limitations contribute to tragic statistics, one being that Black women are half as likely to seek help as white women, according to Johns Hopkins Medicine.

But this is where Black Girl’s Healing House flips the script. Setting aside the common labels of “masculine” or “angry” or “strong” (which Antoinette astutely calls out as Black women actually being in survival mode), members of the Healing House are empowered to “discover their own brand of femininity and own it, heal in ways that it makes [them] more soft and able to receive and give, and we give Black women the voice to say 'I don’t want to be strong anymore.'"

If there’s one thing Antoinette wants other Black women to know on their healing journey, it’s that they are not alone, and change is not only possible, it’s a birthright.

“There are other Black women out there who not only have been in your shoes but have healed. There is abundance on the other side of the dark space you are in,” she says.

On the other side of that darkness is a healthy life, which Antoinette defines as having consciousness in every area of one's life: body, finances, home, mental, spirit and community. Words such as consciousness are staples of the wellness community, sometimes to the point where it loses all meaning. But in seeing Antoinette’s mission, and her creation, I am reminded of consciousness’ true essence. To become aware of the stories we tell ourselves and then to acknowledge our ability to rewrite those stories … it’s the most freeing thing in the world. Black Girl’s Healing House helps Black women to drop the heaviness of the past, shedding the former skin of victimhood and step into their true feminine power.

Or, as Antoinette quips, to “release the bags Erykah Badu referred to. Pack light.”

Antoinette has big plans for her Healing House, hoping to see hundreds of thousands of sisters join. And, using her background in fashion and design, she is currently designing luxury vegan leather totes as a creative catalyst for self-care conversation.

“Each bag has a name, a zodiac sign and tells the story of my own healing from lack of mindset, mother wounds, father wounds, depression, anxiety and postpartum," she says. "My vision is that when a woman sees herself in these bags, it gives her the confidence to tell her own healing story and share it with others. Someone else's testimony is someone else's medicine.”

Um, I’ll take a pink one in Scorpio Sun, Leo Moon, with Taurus Rising, please.

If you’re interested to learn more, or get some help for your own healing journey, you can find the Black Girl’s Healing House website here. Or go ahead and join their Facebook group, and create your own healing community.

“Downton Abbey” fans have been rejoicing over Julian Fellowes’ newest historical drama “The Gilded Age.” Instead of London at the beginning of the 20th century, audiences are transported to (the truly new) New York of 1882, where aristocrats Agnes van Rhijn and Ada Brook reside.

Despite the different backdrops, “The Gilded Age” has much of the same aspects as its predecessor: conflict between the ways of old and new, weighty scrambles up the social ladder and, of course, the rich emotional narratives of the privileged class.

But “The Gilded Age” does offer something that “Downton Abbey” does not, and it’s a piece of history rarely portrayed or taught, yet real and important all the same: the story of the Black elite.


Young white woman Marian Brook (played by Louisa Jacobson) is surprised when she shows up to the home of her new friend Peggy Scott (played by Denée Brown), hoping to offer her a “gift” of old used shoes. Marian quickly realizes the error of her bias. Her Black friend, daughter to wealthy and educated parents, living in an opulent home with her own staff, had want for nothing. Certainly not worn out shoes.

This picture of Black excellence–where Black men and women enjoy money and influence—rarely makes an appearance in film and television, and in general is an overlooked aspect of history. In an interview with The New York Times, "The Gilded Age"’s historical consultant Erica Armstrong Dunbar pointed out, “What does the average person know about the Black elite in New York in the 1880s? The answer is very little if anything.”

As someone who grew up not even knowing about Tulsa and Black Wall Street until well into my twenties, and still knowing very little beyond that, I’d have to agree.

Julian Fellowes aims to remedy that in his depiction of the Scott family, and considers it a duty of artistic integrity. In an interview with The Columbian, he shared “I wanted very much to make ‘The Gilded Age’ distinctively American. And I didn’t believe I could do that without having a Black narrative and a Black family alongside the others. It just didn’t feel right to, actually.”

And it seems that Fellowes has done his due diligence, not only consulting with with Dunbar, but in co-creating the show with Black writer Sonja Warfield, as well as reading books like “Black Gotham,” which traces author Carla Peterson’s family history in the prosperous, upper-class Black communities of New York. According to The Columbian, the character of Peggy is even inspired by multiple real life trailblazers of the time, including Ida B. Wells (NAACP founder), Julia C. Collins (America’s first cited published Black female author) and Susan McKinney Steward (New York’s first Black female doctor).

Historical dramas featuring affluent, high-class Black characters are so rare, even Broadway legend Audra McDonald, who plays Peggy’s mother Donna Scott, was shocked to discover her role didn’t “perpetuate the tired old stereotype.”

On The Grio’s podcast “Acting Up,” McDonald shared how “people forget that during Reconstruction, with the constitutional amendments and emancipation and the end of slavery and giving Black men the right to vote and hold office, a lot of formerly enslaved people made big strides very quickly. Blacks had their own communities in Brooklyn and what was called ‘the Tenderloin’ at the time. They needed to have businesses to serve their own communities, and so that’s how you ended up with Black pharmacists and dentists and doctors and undertakers and lawyers and all of that. We needed all these things to serve our own communities — our own thriving communities, and there was a social structure that existed within that.”

Once she read the script, McDonald was thrilled to illuminate this often hidden world, “with all of its intricacies and all of its mess.”

Intricate, indeed. And interesting, to boot. As well as a really amazing example of what can happen when empowering conversations of representation are had. I can only imagine how much more nuanced our understanding of history (Black history, in particular) would be, had families like the Scotts been a regular part of the curriculum. But thankfully, we have creators like Fellowes, who understand that historical fiction, when told authentically, can embody the spirit of those untold stories, shaping our minds and hearts here in the present.