Take My Hand(85)

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll take your coats and show you to your seats.”

Court was set to begin at 9:30 a.m., but the room was already full. I noticed the nurses first. All of them in uniform. A tall Black woman in a baby blue version of their uniforms and identical cap sat at the end of the row. It was my first time seeing the new director, Mrs. Parr. When she saw me, she waved. Looking at her warm, open face, I regretted never going in to meet with her. Alicia waved, too, and some of the others nodded. I hadn’t expected to see them all there, and it felt odd not sitting with them. We had started this journey together, and although I had only worked at the clinic for a few months, I was one of them.

The Williamses and I sat in a reserved row right behind Lou’s table. Mace took my hand, and I saw Mrs. Williams glance down out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey,” he whispered. “After this over with, no matter what happen, I want you to know you done good.”

Mace flashed the same playful grin he had shown me the first time I met him. The kind that made you think for a second that he was just fooling with you. Daddy was right: Mace was real. A grown man, a father, a son. I had no right to play around in his life. I pulled my hand away gently, carelessly, as if by accident.

The door at the back of the courtroom opened, and we all turned to watch the lawyers enter. Lou was wearing a stiff new suit, and it swallowed him in a sea of pinstripes. His face was freshly shaven, hair clipped short; he was the picture of a church deacon. He walked straight to his table and set his briefcase on it. I’d heard his closing argument the night before. It was good. But neither of us was sure if it was good enough.

The bailiff closed the doors to the courtroom. I scanned the room. I spied the Ralseys, but there was no sign of Ty.

The bailiff announced, “All rise for the Honorable Eric Blount.”

The judge entered briskly.

“You may be seated.”

“This is the Middle District Court of the State of Alabama, in the case of Civil Action Number twenty-three dash two five six one. The case of Erica and India Williams, et al., plaintiffs versus Caspar Weinberger et al.”

I wiped at the moisture on the back of my neck.

Mr. Weinberger sat next to his lawyers. Then there was Mr. Arnett. Behind them, a group of what could only be Washington government types, strangers I didn’t recognize. The bigwigs in Montgomery had turned out for this verdict, too. George Wallace leaned forward in his wheelchair near the back of the room, Mayor Robinson in the seat beside him. From our community, I spotted Johnnie Carr. Rufus Lewis. Fred Gray. I even spotted Sister LaTarsha sitting next to two other sisters.

The judge began to read without much introductory pomp and circumstance. “I hereby order that the plaintiffs India and Erica Williams may prosecute their claims as a class representative under Rule 23 B-2 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure on behalf of all poor persons subject to involuntary sterilization under programs that receive funds administered by the Public Health Service or the Social and Rehabilitation Service of the United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare.”

Mrs. Williams turned nervously to me. I nodded to indicate this was good.

“The family planning sections of the Public Service Act and of the Social Security Act do not authorize the provisions of federal funds for the sterilization of any person who has been judicially declared mentally incompetent or is in fact legally incompetent under the applicable state laws to give informed and binding consent to the performance of such an operation due to age or mental capacity.”

He cleared his throat.

“I order that the defendants, their successors, subordinates, agents, and employees are permanently enjoined from providing funds under the aforesaid family planning sections for the sterilization of any person who has been judicially declared mentally incompetent or is in fact legally incompetent under the applicable state laws. The Sterilization Restrictions issued by the United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare are arbitrary and unreasonable in that they authorize the provision of federal funds without requiring that the person be advised at the outset that the consent to such an operation have no bearing upon other benefits provided to the person by the federal government, and without further requiring that such advice appear prominently at the top of the consent document mentioned in those regulations.”

“Praise God!” someone shouted.

The judge did not respond to the outburst.

“It is ordered that the defendants shall promptly amend these Sterilization Restriction regulations to bring them into conformity with this order. It is further ordered that the plaintiffs’ motion for summary judgment is granted in the above respects, and the defendants’ motion to dismiss is denied.”

I did not move. I could not think, not even when the judge finished and began the business of adjourning court. No one else seemed to respond either. Perhaps people had not understood. The order had been as technical as a medical diagnosis. Had two little Black girls from Alabama just won in federal court? Slowly someone began to clap.

“Civil, Civil.”

“Yes?”

“We won, right?” she whispered.

I nodded. “Yes, yes, Mrs. Williams. We won.”

The room came back into focus. The nurses surrounded me, Alicia’s arms around me first, her voice in my ear. You did it, Civil. Girl, you did it. Mace and Mrs. Williams dropped back to allow the nurses some room. I started to cry, then gulped it back.