The following blog was written by Giles Holt, UUSC's JustWorks intern, during Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey 2008.

On our Civil Rights Journey, it became apparent to me that what Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, the Congress of Racial Equality, and others were fighting for was not just civil rights. These men and women were engaged in a struggle for human rights. They were fighting for a common dignity.

I embarked on this journey to learn about part of our nation's history. At first, my approach was academic. Yet, when history still lives on, that approach is impossible. I ended my journey with an entirely new conception of what I was doing.

For the first half of our week together, I remained unchallenged. I could walk into a museum, listen to a speech about the history of the place, read the plaques, and leave feeling contented that I had broadened my perspective. I was learning, but I could have sat at a desk and received a lot of that same information.

But a transition from history to life, and from trip to journey, began to take place as the week progressed, as our workshop facilitator Dr. Kimberley Roberts led us through discussions of equality and humanity, and as the lessons presented at various historical sites began to strengthen. I found that the facts, dates, and morals that I was learning only became understanding as I put them into direct action.

On Thursday and Friday, we applied our historical and moral lessons. We traveled to the Bethesda Church in Brighton, Ala., one of thirty churches in a small city of 3,600 people, with a membership of around one hundred. While the church had undergone significant renovations, it was still in need of extensive work. The outside paint was peeling, and there appeared to be water damage on the inside. But this did not deter the minister or the congregation from committing to a course of social action and leadership in their community.

The congregation had applied for — and received — a grant from Home Depot to repair several houses in the community. This is where we came in.

With a group of forty-two Civil Rights Journey participants, we were able to work on four work projects in Brighton.

My team was assigned to Mrs. Ethel Young's house, a two-story building. Mr. Norman, the project coordinator and a leader in the Bethesda church, arrived to check on our team. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he asked, "Do you need anything, brother Giles?" This recognition of our shared place in a struggle that has come to encompass so much of our nation affirmed my humanity in a way that I had yet to experience.

It was through our service and action that we were able to take up the civil-rights and human-rights struggle that was started so many years before, and for two days, we won that struggle.

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Stephanie Hanway, of Laramie, Wyoming

The following blog was written by Stephanie Hanway, of Laramie, Wyo., while participating in UUSC's annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey. She is 18 years old.

I came on this trip clueless. When we were in Selma, I was scared to get off the bus, thinking it was Salem [where the witch trials took place]. I also grew up thinking Georgia was the capitol of Alabama, when both are states.

What drew my attention to this trip was the chance to travel; however, that is not entirely why I continue. It has been my blessing not only to travel in the present, but also to travel in the past and experience history.

Because I am Arapahoe, Native American, slavery is not part of my heritage. That's not to say that I can't take something from the civil rights movement to help my people, my country, and myself — just like Martin Luther King, Jr., was inspired by Gandhi.

If there is any hope for me to one day help my people, I must first find that hope in myself. And that is what this trip has guided me towards.

Race, gender, age, and class are all part of a puzzle. And not to look at it is not to solve it. The first step in fighting any oppression is not just knowing where we stand, but allowing everyone else to know it, as well. Being of an outside minority has allowed me to see the same things, but from a different perspective.

It is an honor to thank the program for instilling this seed of knowledge in me to aspire to grow more bountifully, both inside and out. The greatest thing that I appreciate from this trip is the way I was invited, rather than pushed, through the doors of history. One can only remember so much in a classroom, but one remembers so much of her own personal experiences.

This truly was a journey, in itself.

The following blog post was written by Camilo Mejia while participating in UUSC's annual Freedom Summer: Civil Rights Journey. Mejia is a nationally recognized peace activist and the first Iraq war veteran to publicly refuse to return to combat.

Day 3 of the Civil Rights Journey started at 7 a.m. with a traditional southern breakfast at the Capitol Inn's café. By 8 a.m. we were well on our way to Selma, Ala., where our day would begin with a visit to The National Voting Rights Museum and Institute.

Alabama police attack Selma-to-Montgomery Marchers, 1965.

The 45-minute bus ride to Selma wasn't long enough to finish the Eyes on the Prize: America's Civil Rights Movement, 1954-1985 episode on the battle against segregation in the lunch counters and downtown stores of Nashville, Tenn. Still, it was a great introduction to a day that would take us down the path of resistance to segregation in two historical events: Bloody Sunday and the Selma-to-Montgomery March.

Sam Walker, our guide at The National Voting Rights Museum and Institute, gave us a lively presentation about the main events, such as the killing of Jimmie Lee Jackson and the shutting down of registration centers in order to prevent African American citizens from voting, which launched the two historic marches. We then learned how the marches were organized and carried out, initially viewed as setbacks by some, but then leading to two crucial victories in the movement: a federal judge's decision to uphold the protesters' right to march and force the government to provide protection for the marchers.

Our second stop was the most powerful of the day. It seemed a bit odd, as I got out of the bus at The Slavery and Civil War Museum, that one of the guides told me to "get over there with the men, against the wall!" At first I didn't make much of it, but then she told us (men and women) to bow our heads and to avoid making eye contact with her. What followed was an incredibly intense interactive reenactment of the treatment of African slaves, from their capture in Africa all the way to slave markets in the United States.

"Can you imagine..." asked the guide in a dark and scary chamber that resembled the belly of a slave ship, "... being taken away from your family; never again seeing your wives; never again seeing your husbands, your children, your home, only because of the color of your skin?" "Can you imagine..." she continued, "... being chained to a person who's dying or dead? Can you imagine one of your friends being cut up in pieces and then fed to you, only because of the color of your skin?"

The tour continued through more rooms, each challenging us more and more not only to absorb the history in an abstract way, but also to physically put ourselves into situations that made us feel just a tiny bit closer to the horrible realities that were the lives of slaves.

More traditional southern food and stops at historical sites in Selma followed our visit, but that visit and the intense realism of it was by far the greatest lesson of day three of this amazing journey. If all people were able to visit The Slavery Museum and get but a small taste of the inherent cruelty, violence, and brutality behind racism and its byproducts (slavery, lynching, segregation, etc.), I think the struggle for equality would be much easier to win. If only we could educate people; if we used history to learn from our mistakes instead of perpetuating them by ignoring it, I think the world would be a much better place.

Can you imagine?

Edward Loomis, of Chicago, Ill., wrote the following blog post while participating in UUSC's annual Freedom Summer: Civil Rights Journey.

The words, "Thank you, Hurricane Volunteers — You alone have made a difference," painstakingly formed out of blue duct tape, are frequently emblazoned on the back of the KatrinaRitaVille Express, a FEMA trailer, which was parked in front of the Fort Lauderdale Convention Center during GA.

Like other GA attendees, I took the opportunity to step inside the FEMA trailer to see what life is like for families who have had to live in the trailers since hurricanes Katrina and Rita devastated the Gulf Coast almost three years ago. The trailer is so small that you have to step outside to change your mind. "How on earth could a family of six live in one of these things?" I wondered.

The FEMA trailer, and a sister trailer, were purchased by several Gulf Coast organizations for a FEMA trailer road show around the United States to raise awareness of the continuing crisis in the region and the lack of coherent government action to rebuild to meet the needs of poor and minority residents, who are still without housing or adequate government assistance.

Despite the obstacles, Gulf Coast survivors have mounted an extraordinary effort to rebuild their homes and their lives. It is both profoundly moving and depressing that the only real support and solidarity that they are getting is coming from volunteers, not from our government. Volunteer work is important, but not sufficient: it should be complemented by the type of large-scale problem-solving and resources that only government can provide.

UUs, of course, represent a considerable number of Gulf Coast volunteers who have come to the region since the 2005 hurricanes. Over 2,000 people have participated in the UUA-UUSC Gulf Coast Volunteer Program to date. At GA, the UUA and UUSC officially transferred the stewardship of the joint UUA-UUSC volunteer program to a coalition of New Orleans UU churches known as the Greater New Orleans Unitarian Universalists (GNOUU). It will now be stewarded by the coalition's New Orleans Rebirth Volunteer Center.

I was both happy and sad when UUA and UUSC staff handed GNOUU a check for $125,000 to help launch the new volunteer center. Happy, because the coalition has done an extraordinary job of getting ready to take on the responsibility of managing the volunteer program and because it belongs in their hands. Sad, because I've been proud of UUSC's direct connection to this life-changing experience for so many UUs.

However, the UUA and UUSC's commitment to the Gulf Coast, and to the volunteer program itself, has definitely not ended. GNOUU and the Rebirth Center will continue to need time, money, and support from UUs and others. In addition to volunteering our hands and hearts, we must continue to contribute our advocacy efforts to ensure a just recovery for the people of the Gulf Coast.

Written by Nick Bloom, a participant in the fourth annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey.

It was about a year ago that I first learned about Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey, a JustWorks camp of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee. I read the description of the program after my parents first mentioned it to me, and I was intrigued. As a participant, I would have the opportunity to go visit all the sights of the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s, and work in one of the local communities that we would be visiting.

This sounded great to me, as I had never had a chance to really visit the South in any capacity other than Florida, and I thought it would be good to familiarize myself with this part of my country, and get to see the historic and exciting landmarks of the civil rights movement. I jumped on the opportunity. I had absolutely no idea of what I was getting into.

My dad, my friend Ari Brouwer, and I embarked for Atlanta the Friday before the Civil Rights Journey began, and arrived Saturday. I was ready to see the sights that, for some unbelievably naïve reason, I thought I had a good understanding of. After spending the next day at Ebenezer Baptist Church and the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Center, the concept of understanding was blown thoroughly out of my mind.

I don’t believe that I had ever felt as humble as I did walking in the shadows of these civil rights giants, and learning of the thousands of individuals who played such a pivotal role in the movement, especially the children. Also, I met Dr. King's sister, which was almost surreal.

Throughout the trip, I continued to read and hear about more and more people who had contributed to the movement, including Nelson Malden, the barber of Dr. King. His stories of the Montgomery bus boycott and his firsthand experiences with Dr. King were amazing to hear. In fact, from the mayor of Selma, James Perkins, to Sam Walker at the Voting Rights Museum in Selma, to Greg Atchinson of Montgomery, every story opened a wealth of new knowledge to me that my school curriculum seemed to left out.

Although the whole trip was amazing, the one experience that stood out to me the most were our nightly meetings with Kimberly Richards of the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond. When I first heard about these meetings, I figured they were sort of something we would endure at night in order to get to the next day of sight seeing. This may have been the worst judgment I made all trip. Miss Richards showed us all ideas of race and racism in this country that I had never touched. She showed us the system of racism in this country, one that I had really thought was over.

No one had ever explained to me before that our nation was founded on the ideology of race in order to sustain the power of Europeans. She explained the racial tensions we all feel, and it was truly enlightening. For me, who had always thought that of course I was not a racist, racism just comes from ignorant people and the KKK, I realized how wrong I really was.

If you get the opportunity to go on this journey, do it. You will come back with tools to attempt to achieve racial equity in your own communities, and knowledge you may have not known was out there. It truly was a "Civil Rights Journey."

Written by John Bloom, a participant in the fourth annual Freedom Summer: A Civil Rights Journey.

This was such a transformative week, seeing civil rights history come alive. To me, the day that stands out the most was our day in Selma, although it was typical of encounters that we had throughout the week. There, Sam Walker of the National Voting Rights Museum gave us a run-down of the events that led to the Selma-to-Montgomery march for voting rights in Alabama, an event that was one of the greatest triumphs of the civil rights movement, and which helped to spark movements throughout the nation.

The stories we heard were local ones: middle school kids running out of school early to join in protests in front of the Dallas County Courthouse; driving by the auto dealership of the man who was the primary suspect in the killing of Rev. James Reeb after Bloody Sunday (the dealership is still owned by the suspect and in business today); local women who worked tirelessly to pay poll taxes and train African Americans how to pass the voting literacy tests; personal memories of Bloody Sunday when state police beat nonviolent protesters after they crossed the Edmund Pettis Bridge; and of setting up camps along the route for the march to Montgomery.

Throughout the week we met ordinary people, like Nelson Malden of Montgomery, who cut Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s hair, and who not only recalled conversations with him, but shared his memories of the relationship of Dr. King to the Montgomery community. We watched the Spike Lee documentary, "Four Little Girls," in the presence of Chris McNair, father of Denise McNair who was killed at the age of 11 when a white supremacist ignited a bomb on September 15, 1963 in the 16th Street Baptist Church.

We experienced all of this with a group of honest, sincere, good humored people -- some Black; some white; some late into their middle age years; some in their early teens. It was an honor to spend a week with each and every one of them. What I'll take away the most is that the civil rights movement was certainly one of charismatic and brave leaders, but also of ordinary people who can inspire all of us today to take a stand against the injustices that have resurfaced with such force.

A couple of thoughts:

• At least three people who we spoke with said that they had never seen the United States more polarized either internally -- or around the world -- than ever before. These were people who had seen "Bull" Connor drive around Birmingham inside of a white tank terrorizing the African American population.
• On the last day, we all participated in service projects in Birmingham. Mine was at a social service organization serving adults obtaining a GED. We were in charge of cleaning out and reorgaizing a storage shed behind the center. The center looked to be a place that did amazing work with very few resources -- much like other similar organizations I have seen in Pennsylvania. All around the center were photocopied pictures and posters of images that we had seen all week: protesters being fire-hosed, photos of the girls killed at 16th Street Baptist Church, etc. It was a reminder of how important and alive the moment in history that we learned about this week is to the people in communities all over the South, and especially in Alabama.

Written by Nancy Nienhuis, a participant in the fourth annual Civil Rights Journey.

Imagine walking into your polling station and before someone hands you the ballot, they tell you you have to answer a couple of questions. "Okay," you say. And then they ask you, "How many bubbles in a bar of soap?" and "How many feathers on a chicken?" You can't answer, so they tell you that you can't vote.

Those questions were actually on the test they used to give blacks in the south in order to remove them from the voting lists. Whites didn't have to pass the tests. This is just one of the many things I learned this week during the Civil Rights Journey.

These days have been packed with information -- did you know that during the Montgomery Bus Boycott many bus drivers were laid off and became police officers?!? We've walked where Dr. King walked, we've talked to people who knew him. We've even heard from Mr. Nelson, the man who used to cut his hair.

On this trip, history not only comes alive, it talks to you. I'll never think about civil rights in the same way. Some things we've encountered made us shake our heads with wonder at how inhumanely people can treat each other -- Birmingham police turning dogs on children, for example. And other things give us hope. The heroes of the movement aren't the ones who made the changes we know now. The changes were made by everyday people, by people like me and people like you who, when the time came, chose to do something instead of walk away.

More than anything else, this trip and the history I've been introduced to in such a personal way remind me that I keep the fight alive and keep us all moving forward when I choose in every small moment of a regular day to do the right thing. No matter how tired, I must do this. If 500 people can March from Selma to Montgomery under threat of death, I can do this.

Reid Robinson participated in the JustWorks Katrina Relief Camp in New Orleans.

I just got back from New Orleans. I was there on a UUSC JustWorks camp with my local youth group. The trip was amazing. I cannot speak for anyone else from my group, but I know that the trip for me was one of the most spiritually awakening experiences I have ever had.

I had previously gone down about one month ago with the YRUU youth social justice training. However, it was different this time because we truly got to see the two faces of New Orleans.

I guess it is kind of ironic that the city of masquerades, of putting masks over your true face to have a good time, is truly a masquerade. New Orleans has two very different faces. At one extreme, you have the well-off party district of the French Quarter and right across the river, you have the Katrina-battered and government-ignored Ninth Ward.

This type of difference we would expect to see in some developing country. But no, this isn't a developing country (depending on your definition of developing). This is the United States of America.

Nothing I could have done, seen, or read could have prepared me for the sights that I saw. Houses completely gone, cars on top of houses, houses leaning into other houses, personal belongings completely destroyed, and the other side of New Orleans looking as it did the Mardi Gras prior to Katrina: perfect.

The most emotional experience I ever had was the second day of work when we were gutting a house. Papers were still laid out on the bed waiting to be read. Videotapes were still on the dresser waiting to be watched. Family portraits were still on the wall waiting to be admired. Bowls were still in the sink waiting to be washed. I started thinking about my own house, imagining 15 to 20 feet of water entering it, and then wondering what would people find there if a flood came today.

We were instructed to throw everything away. I had found someone's Social Security card, life insurance policy, report cards, deeds to the house, and birth certificates. It hurt to watch myself throw away papers that my mom holds in a special location in a special box. Then someone had to throw away a family portrait and was reluctant to do so until a guy came and asked, "Can I see that?" It was the son who had grown up in the house. He was happy we were gutting his house and we gave him the family portrait and personal papers. He said, "If I had known you all were coming I would have barbequed something."

However, it wasn't until we started gutting the bedroom that my heart sank. We found the skeletal remains of a dog. I couldn't bear to throw away this person's dog. I thought that if someone found my dog in my house, I would want them to bury him properly. Luckily, we got in contact with the owner in Baton Rouge, she wanted us to bury the dog. We buried the bones that we could find and were just silent for a couple seconds. To me, digging that hole was one of the most important things I did all week.

I am kind of sad I never got to see New Orleans prior to Katrina. Perhaps I will come down to celebrate the city of New Orleans, perhaps it will be me who is behind a mask participating in the grand masquerade. The things I saw, I will never forget. The words of people I met will never leave my head. The sights I saw will always be burned into my mind. The emotions I felt will never leave my heart. Most importantly, the motivation I gained will never die off.

Shannon Lee is a participant in the JustWorks Katrina Rebuilding camp in New Orleans.

When we finally got to work, we were divided into three work groups: gutting a house, working for the Blue House (involved the clearing of yards and removing junk off of property), and working on the wetlands. Pretty much everyone wanted the gutting project. I got the wetlands, which, by the way, were actually very, very dry.

The task at hand was to clean up all of the garbage lying around an environmental sanctuary. Upon hearing it, I was relatively disheartened. I mean, picking up garbage? Anyone could do that anywhere. Some of the things we found and picked up changed my mind. There were bits and pieces of housing insulation everywhere, metal utensils, ceramic tiles -- it just showed how powerful Katrina was and how far it transported things.

Some of us had also found a turtle that was just parched. It was situated so far away from any water, and we managed to save it. Seeing and hearing that really put the purpose into the deed. The sanctuary was just so empty and wrecked. All the trees were completely bent and fallen, the weeds were growing out of control, and the building and education centers were looted and completely desolate. It was a pretty eerie sight.

The gutting crew was in charge of the gutting of a bakery storefront that was just in the process of being turned into an evangelical church (pretty ironic, considering we're all UUs). While they were gutting, they were paid a visit by the man who owned the facility and was described as being so amazing and grateful. This was a man was married for 40 years and had lost his wife during the hurricane, along with almost everything else that he owned. And yet, he still had the warmth in his giant of a heart to be so loving and thankful.

When you hear something like this, you really just can't help but be grateful for all you have, and feel so overwhelmingly heart warmed that it brings you to tears. The actual process of the house gutting sounded incredible as well. The fluidity of it all, how everyone's energy seemed to radiate into one another and the beauty of each individual working together without words, was such a spiritual experience.

We were all able to gut together today. You can't imagine what it was like to gut these homes. I mean, we were removing things like ID cards, old family portraits, old report cards, buckets of old 45s and records, letters, and most disturbingly, the remaining skeleton of the family dog.

Even though these were all material things, it was so amazing how personal they were. It felt like you were just invading these people's homes and throwing everything they own out. There's really nothing like it, and it sends shocks right through your heart. You got to know the people as you were demolishing their things, and yet, we never met them.

When you think about the statistics of how many houses were destroyed and are in dire need of attention, it's pretty minimizing, and the work you're doing seems relatively insignificant. But the catastrophe that was Katrina can't be seen only as a statistic, a number. The story of Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath is the story of individual people, families, and communities. When volunteering, it's good to keep in mind that it's quality over quantity. The homes we gutted belong to people, not numbers, and need to be treated as such.

Though Katrina was a horrible natural disaster, it was also the display of so many systemic problems the United States is plagued with. It's like Katrina stripped and washed away this layer of what looked like an ideal U.S. city to reveal this raw and problem-ridden society.

During one of our reflections, someone quoted Eleanor Roosevelt, "A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until you put her in hot water." Replace woman with government, Hurricane Katrina was that hot water. I expected immediate reaction on all levels of the government, but I saw nothing. It's like they don't care about what happens to the citizens of their own country. That's not disappointing. That's terrifying.