Betty Kilby in front, followed by brothers John and James, with father James W. Kilby to the right at their Happy Creek Road farm in 1959 — the year the Kilby children started attending Warren County High School. (Photo/Courtesy)
At 13, she desegregated Warren County High School
In the heart of rural Virginia, an incredible story of strength and transformation unfolds through Betty Kilby Fisher Baldwin.
It twists and turns through her eight decades, but pivotal to who she is today was an act of remarkable courage by her father James Kilby — in 1958 he boldly enrolled then 13-year-old Betty in an all-white Warren County High School in Front Royal.
The United States was tearing itself apart in the wake of the U.S. Supreme Court landmark decision four years earlier, in Brown v. Board of Education, declaring school segregation unconstitutional. James Kilby’s determination spawned another court case—Betty Ann Kilby v. Warren County Board of Education, the county’s first desegregation case, with Betty as its youngest plaintiff.
Resistance to the Supreme Court’s decision remained strong throughout the South, and Warren County was no exception. Black children faced severely limited educational options. Betty’s older brother had to attend boarding school. The only available high school for Black students was a 26-mile bus ride to Berryville, Va., which often was unreliable — once it was midnight before her brothers got home.
Frustrated by these conditions, James Kilby, then president of the local PTA and an NAACP member, acted. After learning of the Brown decision, he contacted the NAACP and discovered no school desegregation lawsuits had been filed in Warren County.
He filed and the backlash was immediate — and violent. The family endured constant harassment: their dog was poisoned, a bloody sheet was left on their mailbox and one of their calves’ feet was wrapped with thin wire, leading to its eventual death. “They tried not to let us see that, but we did,” Betty recalls, highlighting the emotional toll on the children.
Some Black residents, swayed by the promise of a new, segregated high school for Blacks, urged the family to withdraw the suit. But NAACP lawyers were clear: “Once we start down this road, we can’t stop,” Betty remembered being told. She saw through the divide-and-conquer tactic: “It didn’t work in the Civil War, and it didn’t work in Warren County either.”
Betty Kilby, 80, sits in a science classroom at the desk she sat as a student at Warren County High School, an all-white school she integrated into in 1959. (Photo/Ireland Hayes)
First day at high school
Like the Brown family, the Kilbys won in court. But the night before Betty’s first day at Warren County High School bullets pierced their house. She collapsed in fear while doing the dishes. Her father, though scared himself, rallied the household with prayer and resolve. Betty’s anxiety was a replay of the story of 16-year-old Elizabeth Eckford of the Little Rock Nine, whose courageous arrival alone to a hostile mob while entering what previously had been a whites-only school in Arkansas was the subject of a Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph.
The next morning — Feb. 18, 1959 — Betty and other Black students entered the previously all-white school. Her memoir, “Wit, Will & Walls,” recounts the terror of those early days. White families boycotted the school, leaving only 23 Black students in a building for over 1,000. This break was short-lived. When white students returned the following school year, many Black students left, unable to bear the trauma.
Safety was a constant concern; even going to the bathroom alone was risky. She asked, “Can you imagine going all day without drinking anything because you’re afraid to go to the bathroom? We had no protection. Not even a teacher would help.”
Despite the constant distress, Black parents and community leaders emphasized that the children were there solely for an education. The Black children were discouraged from participating in extracurricular activities. Beyond the abuse at school, there was also the pressure to maintain a specific image. She recalled that “Den mothers” would have the children walk around with books on their heads, practicing speech, as “the eyes of the world were on us.”
Kilby’s name listed on a plaque recognizing “the 21 negro students that made the difference” by integrating the school. “February 18, 1959, the Warren County High School was integrated. The twenty-one courageous Negro students, listed, played an important role that opened the door for all races of people to be equally educated together in Warren County,” it reads. (Photo/Ireland Hayes)
Betty stayed the course and graduated. Later, she earned an MBA and an honorary doctorate from Shenandoah University. At 80 years old, Betty embodies lifelong perseverance and an unwavering spirit.
More than a survivor of injustice and hardship, Betty has become a powerful voice of resilience, a vital keeper of stories, and a bridge between generations. Her journey, which began in Culpeper County, reminds us what it means to endure and rise above adversity. From early schoolhouse battles to national stages, her compelling story has been shared through moving memoirs, impactful documentaries, and inspiring speaking engagements.
Rappahannock roots
Born in Rapidan, Culpeper County, on February 22, 1945 — a birthday she shares with George Washington — Betty’s early life was grounded in faith, family and community. Though her family moved to Happy Creek in Warren County when she was about five, her roots in Culpeper and Rappahannock remained deep.
“Our entire social life back then revolved around the church and family,” Betty recalls. Churches like Macedonia Baptist in Flint Hill and Sunday schools in Happy Creek weren’t just for worship; they were the pulse of the community, where fellowship, praise, and support came together.
She proudly mentions her wide-reaching family ties: “The Dennis family in Culpeper is part of my kin. And the Kilbys — we claim both the white Kilbys and the Black Kilbys — so you’ll find us in every shade.” Her family tree stretches across the countryside, with connections in Woodville, Slate Mills and Peola Mills.
Betty’s remarkable resilience was built upon her father’s steadfast dream. James Wilson Kilby grew up as a tenant farmer on the Finks’ farm, off FT Valley Road in Rappahannock County, sincerely believing that education was the path to freedom. Despite being denied formal schooling himself — a painful injustice, especially when his lighter-skinned older brother, Charles, received an education — James was determined his children would have a different future.
“What always bothered my father,” Betty shares, “was that, with his Black skin, he was limited and treated as inferior. He resented that he couldn’t go to school.” This deep-seated resentment ignited his fierce determination. Though only 17, he received the deed to 24 acres of the Finks’ estate, but despite this significant transfer of land, he decided to leave the farm for better living standards and wages.
Kilby in front of her childhood home, which is now a historical site. The Kilby home was the subject of many race-motivated attacks from residents disturbed by the children’s integration into the all-white school. (Photo/Ireland Hayes)
James Kilby eventually found work at the American Viscose plant in Front Royal, a workplace for many from across Warren and Rappahannock counties. He purchased new land, built a brick home in Happy Creek and started a farm, pouring his immense will into providing for his family.
However, a turning point came when he lost his original 24 acres. Although his name was listed as the owner, a court ruled against him, claiming unfulfilled payment agreements — agreements for which no records existed. “Even to the day before my father died, he still referred to that as his land,” Betty recalls. “He believed he wouldn’t have lost it if he had been more educated.” This heartbreaking loss solidified his commitment to his children’s education.
Journey of reconciliation
Betty Kilby Fisher Baldwin’s journey extends beyond her integration experience. She dedicated her life to healing and reconciliation, notably through her collaboration with Phoebe Kilby, a white cousin whose ancestors enslaved Betty’s ancestors. Their powerful shared story, detailed in their co-authored book “Cousins,” demonstrates that healing is possible even after generations of pain. This project and their joint appearances have been featured in documentaries and interviews, including a BBC segment “Unlikely Relatives” and a Netflix special, “Stories of a Generation with Pope Francis,” Episode 2: “Dream,” promoting their message of unity.
James Kilby’s refusal to allow hate in the family home greatly influenced Betty’s ability to embrace this journey of reconciliation. She states, “The lessons of my father in not allowing us to hate people allowed me to accept Phoebe and what she was trying to do, because she was just as innocent as I was. So why should I not return my hand to her and we take this healing journey together?”
She worries about how history is being handled today. “When we go into schools, we teach history,” she says. “This is our history,” she says, emphasizing that Black Americans didn’t invent the term “DEI” (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) but sought equal opportunities across all aspects of life. Her hope remains firm. “My father had a fourth-grade education. But look what he did with that little bit. Today, we have so many educated people. If we did it once, we can do it again.”
Betty urges parents never to give up on sharing history with their children and emphasizes the critical role of oral tradition and community in preserving heritage for future generations. Her powerful voice, rooted in shared rural landscapes, continues to break down walls, advocating for unity and the lasting impact of education. Her ongoing legacy was recently celebrated in Harrisonburg at the dedication of a new state historical marker recognizing the desegregation cases that helped dismantle legal barriers to equal education.
As Betty thoughtfully passes the torch of her inspiring story to her daughter, Bettina Fisher, she ensures that the truth will continue to be shared, no matter how challenging. She attributes her remarkable journey and achievements to “God constantly picking me up.” She believes that change is always possible and that anything is achievable with faith and determination.
