In July 1963, amidst the peak of the Civil Rights Movement, Shirley Reese, a teenage girl, participated in a peaceful protest alongside other young Black girls in Americus, Georgia.
Their collective objective was to buy movie tickets at the designated window for White customers at the Martin Theater. Reese recalls that the police were summoned, although no one could anticipate the subsequent turn of events.
Reese recalls the officer informing the children, ranging from 12 to 15 years old, that they were all being arrested. Following that, a number of girls were swiftly gathered and transported to a stockade situated in Leesburg, Georgia, approximately 23 miles away from the town. They would spend close to 60 days in custody there.
Teenage girls, including Shirley Reese who is holding onto the window bars, are held inside a stockade in Leesburg, Georgia, in 1963.
Danny Lyon/Magnum Photos
To their parents and loved ones, the girls had simply vanished. It would be weeks before anyone would learn what happened to them, Reese said.
Reese, who is now 75 years old, revisited the stockade alongside CNN's Randi Kaye to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the girls' arrest.
"I remember it being extremely unsanitary," she reminisced, as she observed the cramped cell. "There were even bloodstains on some of the blankets."
Surrounded by dense woods, the stockade stood in the midst of summer's stifling humidity. Inside the cell, the girls endured the absence of beds, a functioning shower, or toilet facilities. As night descended upon rural Georgia, they found themselves enveloped in an impenetrable darkness.
"We couldn't even see one another," Reese remembered. "All we could hear was the sound of sniffling and such, but there was no way for anyone to offer any assistance."
A view from inside the stockade.
CNN
Children took the front line
Americus, a small town, embodies the aspirations of this country with its name. However, for Black residents in the 1960s, the name concealed a deeply entrenched racist atmosphere. In an effort to minimize the risk of reprisal, children frequently took part in protests during the Civil Rights Movement. Organizations such as the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) mobilized youth-led sit-ins and marches throughout the Southern states to challenge segregation.
"Due to their work and family responsibilities, many adults were unable to actively participate," explained Carol Barner Seay, who was one of the Leesburg Stockade Girls. "Engaging in any form of involvement would have risked their jobs, putting their survival at stake. As a result, it was the children who bravely stepped forward to lead the way."
Carol Barner Seay was arrested at 13 and held in the Leesburg stockade for nearly two months.
During the summer of 1963, there was a significant shift in the situation. Not long before Reese was apprehended, Seay, who was 13 years old at the time, was also detained during a protest in Americus. Recalling the incident, she vividly remembers confronting the officers who escorted her away and demanding an explanation.
Seay indicated her brown skin, insinuating that it was sufficient cause to incarcerate a minor, when questioned about whether the officers had clarified the reason behind her detention.
"Do you see me? Does someone owe me an explanation? Are they going to provide one?!"
Seay mentioned that she was briefly transferred to a jail in the neighboring town of Dawson, Georgia, prior to ultimately being transported to the Leesburg Stockade.
"We had absolutely no knowledge of our whereabouts," she expressed. "We had no clue that we were in Leesburg."
If the girls had been told their whereabouts, Seay said, it likely would have evoked even more fear.
"Leesburg was known as Lynchburg ⦠They lynched Black people on the trees," she said.
The girls went without bathing for nearly two months and were made to stay in the same clothes they had on when they were apprehended. Reese revealed that they received hamburgers from an unfamiliar person each day and resorted to using the hamburger wrappers as makeshift toilet paper. Seay expressed her longing for her mother and siblings, particularly the delicious meals her mother used to prepare.
We didnt think we would ever get out, Reese said.
"We started praying together," Reese said. "So, we would gather some time and pray. And then we would pray individually, and cry individually.
The Stolen Girls
Reese and Seay remember the day, nearly a month into their imprisonment, that a White photographer showed up. Danny Lyon was a 21-year-old photographer with the SNCC.
"(Lyon) come around the building, I said, Who are you? Whats your name?" Reese recalled. "He said, Be quiet!"
Then she noticed his camera.
"I demanded, 'Capture my image immediately!'" she reminisced. "I was aware that if he was present, capturing photographs, those images would be shared somewhere. Hence, my primary motive was to ensure that he didn't miss photographing me."
Shirley Reese holds onto the bars of the stockade window in Leesburg, Georgia, in 1963.
Danny Lyon/Magnum Photos
Seay recalls him signaling to the girls with the peace sign and uttering a single word: Freedom.
"For those of us who lived through and experienced segregation firsthand - it shaped every aspect of our lives from birth to death. Our homes, schools, churches, even our meals were segregated. So, freedom carried monumental significance," she expressed.
You wouldn't have a reason to use that word if you were White. However, if you were of the same race as me, it held significant meaning. Understand? It was a symbol to us, indicating that he posed no threat to us.
Upon initial observation, the photographs captured by Lyon on that particular day exude a sense of happiness. The young girls, proudly dressed in their protest attire, offer warm smiles to the camera, serving as a reassuring message to their worried families that they were safe and sound.
However, upon closer inspection, it becomes apparent that they were enclosed by bars.
This contrast, wherein cheerful children dressed in their finest clothes stood confined behind bars, attracted widespread national interest. Lyons' photographs made their way into the SNCC newspaper and Jet Magazine, earning the moniker of "The Stolen Girls" from the media. Eventually, these images caught the attention of Senator Harrison A. Williams from New Jersey, who included them in the Congressional Record.
Amidst the public outcry, the girls were liberated in September 1963 without any charges pressed against them. However, the narrative of the Leesburg Stockade Girls quickly faded into the background due to the incessant occurrence of racist violence in the American South. Coinciding with their release, a church in Birmingham, Alabama was targeted by Ku Klux Klan members who detonated a bomb, resulting in the tragic death of four young girls.
Shirley Reese, now 75, said the girls would try to find comfort in praying together.
Many of the Leesburg Stockade Girls remained silent about their traumatic experience for years. According to Reese, some girls and their families chose to stay in Americus and kept a low profile to avoid further retaliation.
But after being released, Reese said she struggled to process all that had happened to her.
"It was just like I didnt ⦠I didnt exist," she said.
Decades later, Reese expressed that the encounter had ultimately strengthened her. Subsequently, she successfully obtained both a masters degree and a Ph.D.
"My mother insisted on me receiving an education. Despite feeling shattered during my childhood, I lacked the drive to pursue anything. Nevertheless, I persevered and redirected my mindset," she recounted.
Seay said she still remembers the moment she reunited with her family.
"My mom, you know, she hugging on me," she said."Wed been gone for two months and we havent had a bath."
She said the time she spent in the stockade "should have made me bitter. But I stand here today to tell you it made me better and it continues to make me better."