This is an opinion column.

It’s the blood for me.

You don’t see it in the black-and-white photos. Or the grainy video footage of that horrific day 60 years ago. Sixty years ago, only minutes after hundreds of men and women stood on the sidewalk beyond the peak of the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama. Stood and stared.

Stared at the phalanx of gas-masked Alabama state troopers and local police gathered at the foot of the bridge. Gathered and waiting. Some on horseback, some shoulder-to-shoulder blocking U.S. Highway 80 — the route to Montgomery, the state capitol. All were armed with Billy clubs, guns, or tear gas. Some even carried whips.

The men and women stood and stared toward them, knowing there could be blood.

Still, they began walking again, still orderly, still peaceful. Still intent on traversing 54 miles for the right to vote as American citizens. To vote without being taxed or taking an insipid test. To vote with dignity.

They walked until the bridge ended and they were on land again, only feet from the troopers.

There, they stood and stared.

Turn around, they were told. Go home. But on this day, weren’t nobody gonna turn them around. So, the men and women stood, knowing there could be blood.

Their own.

They stood behind true leaders, including a proud young man from Pike County who would go on to become a U.S. Congressman, John Lewis. They stood among teachers, preachers, maids, and laborers.

They stood as the troopers began to march toward them. They stood until many of them began to fall beneath the tsunami of hate. Fall trying to defend themselves. To survive. Fall and bleed.

You don’t fully see it in the photos or video. Black-and-white doesn’t give due honor to the redness dripping from head wounds and broken limbs. Yet the stark images still make me squirm. They still reveal what kind of nation we were, one that so easily, viciously and blatantly attacked its own.

They still reveal the courage of those men and women who stood and stared racism in the face, knowing they could bleed.

They bled for a righteous cause. They bled to secure full enforcement of the 15th constitutional amendment ratified 95 years before, granting the right to vote to all men regardless of “race, color or …” — and I love this part — “… previous condition of servitude.”

Ratified yet their descendants were still being denied. Or worse — shot, killed and lynched for simply trying to vote.

Salute Selma 2025: Click here for event calendar

As we honor six decades since “Bloody Sunday,” Americans are bleeding.

They’re bleeding from a new erosion of voting rights. From the closing of post offices and other polling places, making voters travel farther than may be comfortable. From the outlawing of humanitarian provisions like curbside voting that make it easier for seniors or the disabled to vote.

From Alabama’s refusal to consider early voting, even as a former secretary of state says it should be explored.

Thousands of federal workers are bleeding after losing their jobs from indiscriminate cuts that have yet to reveal to us the “fraud and waste” bull-horned by the new administration, cuts that have not created the savings it claims.

America’s working and low-income families are bleeding as cuts in benefits yank food from their tables. Children are bleeding.

American farmers, nonprofits, research centers, universities and several industries are bleeding.

The world is bleeding as the U.S. suddenly decides, sadly, it will no longer lead or support humanitarian quests for global solutions to life-threatening diseases and conditions.

Brown men and women are bleeding as they are deported for the “crime” of daring to seek a better life for their families and children — as did the ancestors of those now seeking to ship them away.

We’re bleeding as the administration seeks to erase the mosaic we are — and I mean all who’ve benefited from the true tenants of diversity, equity and inclusion (hint: primarily whites) — out of fear they’d lose if the game wasn’t rigged in their favor.

We’re all bleeding as we pompously transform our international friends into enemies and our enemies into chest-bump buddies. As we levy tariffs that are likely to make everyday living more expensive. As we demonize physicians, librarians and .05% of the population under the disingenuous and dehumanizing guise of protecting girls’ sports.

The best way to honor those who shed blood six decades ago on that bridge is to stand once again. Stand, stare down and resist.

Resist these new attacks on our own and beyond — before we bleed out.

Let’s be better tomorrow than we are today. My column appears on AL.com, and digital editions of The Birmingham News, Huntsville Times, and Mobile Press-Register. Tell me what you think at [email protected], and follow me at twitter.com/roysj, Instagram @roysj and BlueSky.