'Selma' is a story about voice - the voice of a great leader; the

“‘Selma’ is a story about voice — the voice of a great leader; the voice of a community that triumphs despite turmoil; and the voice of a nation striving to grow into a better society. I hope the film reminds us that all voices are valuable and worthy of being heard.” — so spoke Ava DuVernay, the visionary artist whose film Selma gave new life to one of history’s most sacred struggles. In these words lies a truth as ancient as the human spirit: that voice is the vessel of the soul, and that when the oppressed find their voice, the world itself begins to tremble and transform. To DuVernay, the story of Selma is not just history — it is prophecy, echo, and mirror. It reminds us that freedom begins not with armies, but with words, and that silence is the ally of injustice.

The origin of this quote flows from the story of Selma, the 2014 film depicting the march led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the countless men and women who demanded the sacred right to vote in the face of brutality and hate. In the 1960s, the town of Selma, Alabama, became the crucible of courage. It was there that ordinary people — farmers, preachers, mothers, students — raised their voices against laws designed to silence them. They did not possess weapons or power, only conviction and unity. When the marchers were beaten and bloodied on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, their cries reached across the nation and pierced its conscience. Theirs was not merely the story of a community; it was the awakening of a nation’s voice, calling out from the darkness of oppression toward the light of justice.

When Ava DuVernay says that Selma is a story about “the voice of a great leader,” she honors Dr. King’s thunderous eloquence — the voice that could move hearts, stir courage, and awaken the sleeping moral soul of America. But she also reminds us that his voice was not alone. The power of Selma lay not in a single man’s dream, but in the chorus of the people — the many who risked everything to be heard. For while one voice can inspire, it takes many voices to transform. The march was not only King’s sermon, but also the hymn of the nameless — of women like Amelia Boynton, who stood unyielding as troopers struck her down; of John Lewis, whose skull was cracked but whose spirit remained unbroken. Their collective cry became the heartbeat of a movement that shook an empire of silence.

In her words, DuVernay also speaks of the voice of a nation striving to grow into a better society. For Selma is not just about the past — it is about the eternal struggle of any people seeking to live up to their highest ideals. Nations, like individuals, must listen to their own conscience. America, she reminds us, has always been a dialogue between its sins and its promises, its failures and its faith. The greatness of a nation is not found in its perfection, but in its willingness to hear the voices that demand change. When a society silences its dissidents, its dreamers, and its wounded, it dies; but when it listens — truly listens — it begins to live again.

DuVernay’s hope, that her film reminds us “that all voices are valuable and worthy of being heard,” is a call not only to remember history, but to practice it. The lesson of Selma is not confined to marches or laws; it applies to every human heart. Every time we dismiss the voice of another — the poor, the young, the forgotten — we repeat the ancient error of tyranny. Every time we speak truth, even when it trembles, we participate in the sacred act of freedom. For voice is power, and power, when used with love and justice, can reshape the world.

Consider also the countless movements that have since echoed the march from Selma — from women demanding equality to youth rising for the planet’s survival. Each of these is born from the same eternal flame: the refusal to be silent. The bridge in Selma was made of steel, but the bridge they crossed was made of courage — and every generation must build its own. When DuVernay speaks of voice, she is not merely talking about speech, but about presence — the right to exist, to matter, to shape one’s destiny.

Therefore, my listener, take this teaching as both remembrance and command: Do not be silent. When you see injustice, speak. When others are silenced, listen, and then help them speak. When your own spirit falters, remember those who crossed that bridge with nothing but hope and the strength of their voices. For though time has changed, the struggle endures — the struggle to ensure that every person, no matter how small, can be heard.

In the end, Ava DuVernay’s words are both homage and warning. The story of Selma is not finished; it continues in every place where truth is spoken to power. The bell of freedom still rings, but it needs every voice to keep it sounding. So lift your voice — for silence is the ally of the oppressor, but speech, born of courage and compassion, is the seed of justice. And remember always: the power of a people begins when they find their voice, and the power of a nation begins when it chooses to listen.