My terror rose with the speed of my bike. I kept going, faster, faster, FASTER! I couldn't stop, the hill too steep for braking. My skills weren't nearly good enough to save myself. I was going to crash. When I was eight years old, my dad insisted it was time to teach me to ride a bike without training wheels. I wasn't so sure. The last time I had ridden on a bicycle without training wheels, which was two years before that, I had fallen and broken my arm. I wasn't excited about trying again. Nevertheless, my sister, my dad, and I walked our bikes to the top of our street and began practicing in a parking lot nearby. For a while, it didn't go nearly as bad as I thought it would have. I kept myself balanced, eyes trained forwards, and breathing steady. Within two or three lessons, my dad had successfully taught me to ride a bike. Looking back at this moment, I wish I could go back in time to quote Han Solo and tell my younger self "Don't get cocky, kid!" Unfortunately, I can't do that; my pridefulness about my new skills was going to cost both my dad and me dearly. After my third lesson, I asked my dad if I could ride my bike down the hill and turn into our driveway instead of walking my bike down. Since our house was second from the top of the street, my dad agreed. He and my sister sat at the top of the hill and watched as I mounted my bike. I took a deep breath, pushed back on the brakes, and began drifting down the street. This brings us back to the beginning of our story. I unintentionally picked up speed as I rode. I tried braking, but it couldn't work. I missed the turn into my driveway. Completely terrified, I remember seeing a parked car about three houses down. I headed straight for it. Suddenly, a large force hit my bike. I crashed into the bottom section of my yard, seeing my dad and his bike on top of me. I'd never seen so much blood in my life. It gushed from a cut the size of a ruler on my dad's left arm. My sister hurried into the house to get my mom. We were brought inside. My dad drove to the hospital, holding a towel to his cut. My sister and I watched a movie in the basement of my house, although I couldn't focus on it. When my dad came home, the blood was replaced by a scar held together by staples. I cried and hugged him. I told him the whole thing was my fault. He reassured me it wasn't and hugged me tighter. Now, anytime I wonder if I'm loved, all I have to think about is that scar and the brave man who endured that pain for me.

"One had better die fighting against injustice than die like a dog or a rat in a trap." I bet you don't know who said that quote. Unfortunately, most people don't. And two years ago, I wouldn't either. But now, I'll never forget the incredible woman who said that and the influential work she did. In 2019, I spent almost a year working on an English project my aunt (my English teacher at the time) had assigned. She said that it would take maybe two months at most. She was wrong. I hadn't planned on spending ten months perfecting the presentation I had created, but I did. I was so wrapped up in the stories of the nine women I had chosen, that I didn't care how long it took me. Although every single one of the women I had chosen was awe-inspiring in their own ways, one of them always stood out to me... Ida B. Wells. Before beginning my project, I had never heard of this fearless woman, but now I'm sure I'll never forget her. She was born just before the Civil War ended, the first three years of her life spent as a slave. When she was just 16 years old, her parents and youngest brother died from yellow fever. Ida insisted she should be the one to look after them, not neighbors or close friends of the family, taking on a job as a schoolteacher to support them. As she grew older, she faced more adversities than she had before because of the color of her skin. Only a few years later, Ida faced multiple instances of getting forced off a train because a white man wanted to sit there. Although she was treated terribly, she wouldn't stand for it. She took her case to court and eventually won. While in her twenties, Ida began working at many different local newspapers for different churches or businesses. This work pushed her to take a job at Free Speech, an African American owned newspaper. In 1891, Ida's close friend, Tommie Moss, was lynched along with two other black men. This was Ida's first traumatic experience with lynchings. She spoke out tirelessly against them in her articles in Free Speech. Eventually, one day while Ida was out of town in New York, a white mob came and burned down Free Speech's office building because of her articles. Ida was furious, but she channeled it into her work, touring the country, and later England, giving speeches about the unfairness of lynchings and spreading pamphlets about different lynching stories. After years of speeches and pamphlets, Ida moved to Chicago, where she began writing for another newspaper, the Chicago Conservator. Although she worked for the newspaper, she still traveled around the country giving speeches about the unfairness of lynchings. After some brutal mob attacks in Chicago, Ida took a trip to New York, where she helped found the NAACP; after coming home, she also helped found the NFL (Negro Fellowship League) which was disbanded years later. Ida also worked to help with the women's rights movement. With close friends, such as Susan B. Anthony, Ida rallied both black and white women to fight for their rights. In 1920, Ida secretly traveled to Little Rock, Arkansas, where she interviewed different African American prisoners about their crimes and experiences in jail. She soon published their stories in The Arkansas Race Riot, a pamphlet she made to show the truth about the unfairness of the system. She was even able to help free the men she visited soon after. Two years later, Ida continued to push for lynching to become illegal, supporting a bill a Missouri congressman was trying to pass. The bill died. Lynching didn't become an official crime until 2018. When she was 68 years old, Ida died of kidney failure. Ida B. Wells said this, "It might be unwise to express myself so strongly, but I cannot help it." I try to think like that myself. Her entire life is an inspiration to me. Ida worked tirelessly for the advancement of all overlooked and less-than groups. She never stopped fighting for what she believed in, even when people didn't take her seriously or ignored her. She embodies perseverance, and it's terrible more people don't know about her and her life's work. I hope to dedicate my life to my beliefs as she did. Her perseverance reminds me that I shouldn't be worried about what other people think about me, and I should speak and act without fear of judgment or punishment. Since working on this project, I haven't been the same. I am truly inspired by those women's stories, especially Ida B. Wells. Nothing can compare to the grit and strength she possessed throughout her entire life, and I want people to think that about me as well.

There was no turning back as I walked into the intimidating car. I was going to enter the one thing I was terrified of riding. While on vacation in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, my family decided to take a spin on the Duquesne Incline. My fear of heights made the ride on the rails very frightening, but I held my head high and took in deep breaths. I even worked up the courage to watch the journey from the window. The images are pictures I took while in Pittsburgh, the first one a photo I took from inside the incline!