I rode SEPTA’s Black History Month trolley with Rosa Parks — or at least a cutout

Sumartine “Soup” Davis went all out decorating his SEPTA trolley for Black History Month.

On Feb. 3, he attached red, black, gold, and green decorations to the sides and taped up images of African American historical figures. Now that it’s the end of the month, some of the decor has gotten grimy and worn. But the cardboard cutout of Rosa Parks in the front seat of the trolley remains in pretty good condition.

He is not the first SEPTA driver to commemorate the late civil rights icon this way. However, I’ve never heard of another outfitting his entire vehicle in honor of Black History Month. Riders “always say, ‘I never thought SEPTA would do nothing like this,’” Davis told me.

This I had to see.

The day I climbed aboard, I chose the seat behind the cutout of Parks. It was the perfect place to watch people as they got on the trolley. Most would just glance at the sign and then move to the rear. Still, passengers appeared to feel some reverence toward her, Davis told me, as most wouldn’t sit in the seat next to her, even when the trolley was packed.

The afternoon that I rode the 34 trolley — which goes from 61st and Baltimore, through West Philly, into Center City — was uneventful. I tried talking to a few fellow riders but quit after one segued into talking about Satan being taught in schools.

Instead of interviewing passengers as I’d planned, I sat and thought about Parks, the mother of the civil rights movement.

To me, she has always been larger than life. I grew up hearing her story. So I was beyond flabbergasted the day I turned around at a 1992 journalism convention and spotted her sitting all alone at a table, signing copies of her autobiography, Rosa Parks: My Story. My jaw dropped. My heartbeat quickened. I ran over to her.

I felt as if I were staring right in the face of history. Granted, she was a little old lady at that point and moving very slowly. But the mere fact that Parks was still alive and that I had a chance to speak with her was a stark reminder that the days of state-sanctioned apartheid against Black people weren’t all that long ago.

As I looked out the window of the 34 trolley this week, my mind wandered to that fateful day in 1955 when Parks boarded a segregated bus in Alabama and was arrested after refusing to give up her seat to a white man. Glancing up, I took note of a sign Davis had taped overhead describing the historic Montgomery bus boycott that followed, during which Black people refused to ride public transportation until the U.S. Supreme Court outlawed segregation on public buses.

As I watched people of all ages and races get on the trolley and choose whatever seat they wanted, I thought about how brave Parks was, and what a difference her simple act of courage made.

Of course, the world remains far from perfect.

As I stayed on the trolley, my mind wandered to the outlandish claim made by former President Donald Trump that his criminal indictments had made him more popular with African Americans. “When I did the mug shot in Atlanta, that mug shot is No. 1,” he said Saturday, adding: “You know who embraced it more than anyone else? The Black population.” This is a former president, running again, who associates criminality with African Americans, as if we all are lawbreakers.

I also thought about efforts in Florida to whitewash Parks’ story and push back against the teaching of African American history. After Gov. Ron DeSantis signed the Stop WOKE Act, limiting how race can be taught, a publisher that provides educational material for elementary students reportedly removed the mention of race from the story of Rosa Parks.

» READ MORE: Cherry Hill was the first N.J. district to mandate a Black history class. Here’s how it is done.

But that pales in comparison to the Sunshine State’s effort to try and spin our history of slavery by teaching that some of those held in bondage learned skills and benefited from the practice. The very concept that enslaved people gained any benefits from bondage is ludicrous; Black people — my ancestors included — thrived in spite of it, not because of it. Florida also has blocked the teaching of Advanced Placement courses in Black history. And where one state goes, others follow; Arkansas officials have now claimed AP African American Studies is “indoctrination,” and stopped students from earning credits for it.

Right-wingers are still banning books dealing with race, as well as gender identity and sexuality. Diversity, equity, and inclusion has morphed into the newest boogeyman.

Many think America’s problems with race are behind us. They act as if racism and discrimination somehow died with the desegregation of public busing and Brown v. Board of Education, and that white privilege and systemic racism no longer exist.

As the trolley approached my stop, I reached for my coat. I had enjoyed my trolley ride surrounded by the faces of Parks, Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, and U.S. Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, among others. I’m sad they have to come down.

Even though there is a Rosa Parks statue on display at SEPTA headquarters at 12th and Market Streets, I wish some sort of Parks memorial could stay up on the trolley all year. It would be a simple but powerful way to remind every passenger of the difference each of us — and every simple act of courage — can make.