In 1963, Lula Patterson was assigned a story on the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom — a puff piece on the women involved. Her editor wanted a color job, asking how the women looked, how they dressed, how their hats were styled. Patterson, a reporter for the Baltimore Afro-American, was having none of it.
She had spent her career covering high teas and cotillions, but the March was different. More than double its estimated 100,000 participants showed up. Patterson watched the women and girls packed into the procession, their clothes telling a story of dignity rather than glamour.
Lula’s Assignment
Patterson’s day began at the west end of the National Mall, near the Washington Monument. She arrived shortly after 7:00 AM as marchers gathered. Men traveled down Constitution Avenue, women down Independence Avenue. Broadway legends Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee performed early, along with folk acts Bob Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary.
The scene was organized. Water trucks circulated. Lunch stations handed out sack meals. Marshals directed people toward their routes to the Lincoln Memorial. By 11:30, the magnitude was clear.
Six Square Inches
Patterson described herself as confined to “six square inches of turf, jammed between bodies on four sides.” Applauding pressed against a neighbor’s ribs. The crowd surged toward freedom with every breath.
“The ardour of a determined surge toward freedom sent a ripple through the throng with every breath,” she wrote.
She noticed the Wilmington, North Carolina, chapter of the NAACP in crisp white blouses. Then she began to chafe at the assignment.
The Rebuke
Patterson’s editor wanted fluff. She wanted substance. The women of the movement were not just fashion pieces. They were organizers and activists, the heart and soul of the march.
She wrote her piece with caustic wit. “The women, thousands of them, came in slacks, shorts, cotton frocks and knits,” she began. “They were bareheaded or wearing babushkas, and the sneakers, sandals, flats and loafers were the vogue in footwear.”
“This was a working march,” she concluded.
The Crowd
The march drew more than double its estimated 100,000 participants. Patterson was wonderstruck by the number and the late summer heat. None of it seemed to matter to the throng.
The march was about Black women. Their dreams had been belittled by a movement, a nation, and a world that often dismissed them. Patterson’s story was a correction to that dismissal.
What the Women Wore
Patterson’s description of the women’s attire tells a story of practicality over ornament. Slacks, shorts, cotton frocks and knits — these were not the dresses and hats her editor asked about. The babushkas and the sneakers, sandals, flats and loafers she noted were everyday items, not the sort of accessories that would have made for a glossy spread.
The Legacy
The March on Washington is remembered for Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. King was the closing speaker and the most recognized figure among the male lineup. His leadership during the Montgomery bus boycott, the Birmingham Campaign, the Selma to Montgomery march, and the Poor People’s Campaign has not had the same cultural resonance.
But the march itself was made by the people who showed up. Patterson’s account reminds us that the women were there in force, organizing, marching, and refusing to be reduced to their appearance.
What We Make of It
Patterson’s refusal to write the puff piece was a small act of rebellion. She chose substance over spectacle, and her notes capture the energy of the moment.
The lesson is simple. When a crowd gathers for change, the people who show up are the ones who make history happen.
Source material: “Beyond MLK: On the Women Who Made the March on Washington,” Literary Hub.
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