Spending even a small amount of time at Brandeis can nearly desensitize a person to the phrase "social justice." We encounter these words printed on posters, in announcements and even dropped in classes and conversations-not to mention frequent events focused on the idea. It can be easy to take the fight for social justice for granted on a campus that is always buzzing about it, which is why I was both delighted and refreshed to attend a special screening of a documentary that brought the idea of social justice home last Wednesday, Oct. 17. The 2005 documentary, Soul of Justice: Thelton Henderson's American Journey, was gracefully presented to a small audience of students, professors and administrators by director Abby Ginzberg, who closed the night with a personal question-and-answer session. The event was sponsored by the Louis D. Brandeis Legacy Fund for Social Justice and held in the Wasserman Cinematheque of the Brandeis International Business School.
Ginzberg, who has a background in law, holds social justice quite close to her heart. She now dedicates her time to making films to share this passion with others.
"Thelton Henderson has always been a hero of mine and his story is a story that I wanted to share more broadly," she shared just before the lights in the auditorium dimmed and her masterpiece took center stage. Ginzberg calls the film "the intersection between biography and history," as it follows Henderson's life and career chronologically while focusing on personal and legal milestones. She wanted to "underscore the power a judge has" by giving viewers this broader perspective.
While Thelton Henderson's name may not be familiar to everyone, the decisions that have come out of his courtroom are the results of issues that quite personally affect us all-racism, civil rights, integrity and human dignity. Henderson moved to California with his mother and grandmother as a child and was raised with a sense of hard work and purpose. He attended the University of California, Berkeley, as one of only seventeen black students in a class of 1,500. He earned his law degree at Berkeley's Boalt Hall Law School.
Before he had even graduated from law school, Henderson was invited to work under the Kennedy administration to investigate racial segregation in the South with the task of banning it altogether. At this position, Henderson was not only a newbie fresh from school, but he was also the only black attorney among his coworkers.
He moved on to work in Birmingham, Ala. in the 1960s, establishing personal and professional relationships with such influential figures as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. "There was a real hatred." he said in the film, "You could see the venom in the police." Henderson was working in Birmingham during the time of Dr. King's famous march on Washington and the Birmingham church bombing that followed the march (several weeks after). He was even arrested once while he was monitoring the activities of local law enforcement because of his race.
As Ginzberg's film details this early phase of Henderson's career, it incorporates authentic footage of riots and marches, obscene violence on behalf of the white police forces and flashes of jarring newspaper headlines downplaying the abuse. Shots of the acrimonious racist messages on the picket signs of whites at these riots alone were enough to send shivers down my spine. At parts, I found myself cupping a hand over my mouth, gaping and shaking my head; it was not that this information was new to me, but that Ginzberg's unbridled presentation of the civil rights era as Henderson lived it was so powerful, and every bit of that power was absolutely necessary.
After moving back to California, away from the tumult of the 1960s and the South, Henderson's career ambitions kept increasing. He started a minority program at his law school alma mater, which raised the population of students of racial minority at Boalt Hall to 20 percent. The program became a national model. He became a lawyer for one of the nation's first legal aid offices, in Palo Alto, Calif., and later served as one of the first black federal judges alongside the first female federal judge. His ruthless investigation into reports of extreme violence and abuse against inmates at Pelican Bay State Prison led to his almost singlehanded reform of the state of California's prison system, which he still oversees today. After the film, Ginzberg proudly told us: "There are very few federal judges as committed as he is to seeing their decisions upheld."
Ginzberg intended her documentary to be viewed by college and law students, as she knows that potential like Henderson's resides in all of our youth. The audience was heartily engaged, fixated on Ginzberg as she spoke, asking her many questions and eagerly relating the material in the film to their own personal experiences. Audience members seemed to respond most to issues of race and civil rights, and one could tell, that they will be thinking about Ginzberg's film long after seeing it. So, how can we emulate both Henderson's and Ginzberg's ardor in our own lives? The director advised, with a knowing smile, "Try to find a good fit and see who you need to surround yourself with to succeed. [Do with your life] something that engages you as a whole person." Appropriately enough, that's exactly what Brandeis teaches us to do best.