2009 Gary Roosevelt High School Commencement Address

Thank you.  Dr. Moore, Principal Wright, members of the school board, teachers, parents, family, friends, and members of the Gary Roosevelt class of 2009.  I am humbled and honored to speak to all of you today.

Before I begin my brief remarks, I’d like to pause and paraphrase a memorable opening line.  It was election night – November 4, 2008. You remember. When our newly elected President Barack Obama started by saying, “If there is anybody out there, who still doubts, wonders, questions…” Well, I say tonight: If there is anybody out there who questions the quality of education imparted at Gary Roosevelt, who wonders if they are committed at 25^th and Harrison, who doubts the spirit of the mighty, mighty panthers – the class of 2009 is your answer!

The Valedictorian and Salutatorian speeches were just a sample of the excellence we have come to expect of Roosevelt graduates over the years. Please give them another round of applause for their accomplishments and their remarks.  And I’d like to give my own special thanks to Principal Wright for that wonderful introduction as well.  I’ll have to admit, I was a little embarrassed by all she mentioned – but she read it just like I wrote it! 

Seriously, I want to begin by thanking God for allowing me to stand before you healthy and content 25 years after my high school graduation.  And let me express my deepest gratitude to you for the privilege of addressing you on such a special occasion. I’ve been asked to speak to you on your chosen class theme: Determination is the fuel that produces results.  Let me state at the onset that your selection of this particular theme gives me another reason to be proud that in a few short minutes you will become my fellow alumni. Your theme says you realize that you will be tested in the years ahead, and that it will take fortitude to reach your goals. It is a theme appropriate for those beginning the road to success. 

Years ago, before I even finished my junior high years, my father – who was not originally from Indiana – asked his fellow workers in the steel mill, he asked our pediatrician, he asked our pastor, he asked our junior high and grade school teachers: “Which high school should my children attend?” And to a person they replied, “Gary Roosevelt.” So – at the risk of insulting our gracious host – we traveled by bus from the West Side area to 25^th and Harrison, where we donned the black and gold!

You see, my parents were determined that we would receive a good education – not only academically, but culturally as well. We were sent to Gary Roosevelt because of its tradition of developing leaders who remain committed to the larger African-American community long after graduation.  Avery Brooks, William Marshall, Lee Calhoun, the Tatum family, the Taliaferro family, Ronald Sullivan, and now you – are a part of this history.

When my father and mother arrived in Gary from the South in the mid 1960’s, it was a turbulent time in America.  The Vietnam War was at its height, and due to the mandatory draft, African Americans were dying at twice the rate of others involved in the conflict.  Racism was rampant and legal through enforcement of Jim Crow laws; and those who spoke out against either the war or racism were killed. Medgar Evers, John Kennedy, Malcolm X, Dr. King, Robert Kennedy.  All five killed within a five year period. Can you imagine what it must have been like to live, study, work during that period?

I hear you, I hear you. Who wants to hear all of that, we’re here for a celebration, right? You say we are in a new age Dr. Patterson.  This is the age LeBron James [improvise Kobe], Tiger Woods, and Oprah.  We have an African-American president, a beautiful and equally intelligent First Lady, Beyonce is with Jay Z, and Rihanna has come to her senses and left Chris Brown! All is good with the world! This is a new day; and you know what – I agree with you. Times have changed.

But because of these changes you will need to be all the more determined in the future.  Some conservatives are already declaring this the “post-racial era.”  They say there is no more discrimination and racism is a thing of the past.  Conservative commentators like Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and Glen Beck, so twisted by their dislike for an African-American president that they are openly rooting for America to fail, are holding hands and singing not “We shall overcome, ” but “We have overcome.” As if they had anything to do with it.

Class, they are counting on you to be so excited by the fact that the first president your generation had the opportunity to vote for is African-American, that you won’t notice that plans are already underway to end the means by which it became possible.  “Who needs affirmative action or civil rights laws, ” goes the argument.  “There’s an African-American president – how can there still be racism in America?”

As you succeed you will be lulled into forgetting these facts. They will come as your friends while you’re playing a round of golf, admiring their beautiful home, or sitting on their boat watching the sunset, they’ll offer you a cigar and say, “You know Bob, you are not like the others, ” or…”You speak so well. ”  They’ll tell you that the best way to help others of your background is to be harder on them, to “make them earn it” by not taking the extra time to help them that someone took with you; anything to get you to buy into the “I got mine, now you get yours” attitude.  And then I want you to pause and remember how you got to wherever you are at the time; you can start by remembering how you got here.

You got here partially by your own determination – yes, and we are here to celebrate you for that tonight.  That is why you are wearing the Kente cloth which adorns our robes tonight.  It is a royal and sacred cloth worn only in times of extreme importance.  You have completed 12 years of rigorous training and, having successfully cleared all of the academic hurdles placed before you, have earned our respect and congratulations.  Tonight we celebrate you and your accomplishments up to this point.

But as you look at your Kente cloth, know that it is not a simple design.  It is native to the country of Ghana where it is known there as nwentoma – their word for “woven cloth.” In the 12^th century the Akan people created it out of silk strips, interwoven with meticulous care.  Legend has it that kente was first made by two friends who went hunting in a forest and found a spider making a web.  The friends stood and watched the spider for two days before returning home and recreating what they had seen.  Each design has a meaning, and weaving the designs with different colors can modify the meanings. 

According to the griots (African storytellers or historians) there are two meanings which are most popular among the cloth’s designs. The first is: I alone did not cause it to happen.  Repeat that with me: I alone did not cause it to happen. In addition to your hard work, remember that you are here/now, and wherever you may land positively in the future because of your parents, relatives, friends, and guardians who provided the love, support, shelter, food, and clothes you are wearing beneath your robes. You are here because somewhere someone was determined that you would have what you needed to make it to this moment; and because you have made it you should take the time to salute them now.

Yes, so remember first that: I alone did not cause this to happen.

The second most popular meaning among the cloth’s designs is: The extended family is a force. Repeat that with me: The extended family is a force.

In addition to the base design of the cloth which represents you, in addition to the familial thread running through it which you have just recognized, there are also additional threads which you can only recognize if you look really closely, if you’re really paying attention. Sometimes you can’t see it at all but you know it must be there because of the cloth’s enhanced strength.  This represents your teachers, school staff, coaches, people who are quietly praying for you; those whom you may not see everyday because they don’t work just with you. These are the people – believe it or not – whose words and lessons will echo in your mind long after you’ve left Roosevelt’s halls for the last time.  And again, because you have made it, you should take the time to salute them now. (Pause)

For me it was Mrs. Nevils, my sophomore year English teacher who nurtured my interest in reading and writing by giving me a stack of books to take home and read in my spare time.  It was also my football coaches Coach Taliaferro and Coach Price, Coach Rogers, who decided to reward a scrawny little 5 foot 2, 100 lb guy for working hard in practice by giving him a spot on the varsity roster. They believed in me and because they took the time to help me, I have dedicated my life to helping children and adolescents as well. So remember that: The extended family is a force. And help others overcome obstacles you may have experienced as well.

You see, there is nothing special about me which allows me to stand before you today. I was born and raised in Gary just like most of you. My father worked in the steel mills like a lot of your parents or grandparents, and because he had five children to feed, we often did not have money left over for a lot more. I’ve taken food stamps to the grocery store. In fact, you can’t find me in my high school yearbook the year I graduated because my father had been laid off that year, and we couldn’t afford to buy me a suit coat for the picture; and I was too proud to wear the one my classmate tried to lend me.  I lost friends to drugs and violence – just like you. I walked the same halls, took the same rickety bus to school as you, and I sat through a commencement address waiting my opportunity to flub “Roosevelt, Dearly Loved” – just like you!

And I have a confession to make, for all the accolades Principal Wright was so nice to include in her wonderful introduction – what you didn’t hear was that I was an honor graduate of Gary Roosevelt; because I graduated with a 2.63 GPA. Now there’s nothing wrong with that by itself. What is wrong about it is that I didn’t live up to my potential in high school.  I was mediocre, because mediocrity to me is not living up to your potential.

So I sat right where most of you are sitting now and I made a promise to myself. I said – I will never be mediocre again. I will never perform to less than my full potential again! Mediocrity wasn’t born in me – and it wasn’t born in you!

So now class after 12 years, this is your time.

If you are determined to reach your full potential – say, “This is OUR TIME!” 

If you are grateful for your family’s support and you’re ready to stand up as an example for your siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews – say, “This is OUR TIME!”

If you understand that you are a part of a larger community that is counting on you to remember where you came from and to help others like you – say, “This is OUR TIME!”

If you are ready to walk across this stage and begin the journey of growth towards becoming the men and women God has called you to be – say, “This is OUR TIME!”

Congratulations Gary Roosevelt Class of 2009! This is YOUR TIME! God bless you, God bless you all! Be safe, class! God bless you all!

The Eleventh Commandment: Honor Thy Baby’s Mother (or Father)

 

  

“A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the perogative of the brave.”

      Mahatma Gandhi

 

Nothing in my life will ever compare to what transpired at 5:14 am on November 2nd of 2007 – the moment Mikaili Lorraine Patterson was born. Being a single physician still navigating the busy pathway towards the end of my medical residency, the birth of my first child was like the Technicolor change at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz, she signified a new, beautiful, and wondrous pathway in my life.

 

But, as unexpected as the mother’s pregnancy announcement was for me as an unmarried man, nothing prepared me for the onslaught of unsolicited and unhelpful advice I received from well-meaning friends and family alike. Don’t get me wrong, I understood and sincerely regretted the disappointment and embarrassment I caused my and the mother’s family – I deserved and accepted their disapproval for my careless actions. But what I was not prepared for was the negative, distant, and almost disdainful prism through which most encouraged me to view the mother and our relationship, outside of the necessities involved in the care for our child.

 

For perspective, I was reared in a working-class two parent household where I and my four siblings were witness to a traditional and loving marriage.  My father labored in one of the steel mills nearby our home in Gary, Indiana, while my mother worked day and night in the home to keep us from falling victim to the many pitfalls which engulfed too many of my childhood friends. Their affection, dedication, and devotion to each other and us made a lasting impression on me, indeed – it made me.  And as a young man, I vowed that my children would have this same solid structure upon which to build their lives.

 

Even before delivering my daughter, cradling her fragile frame in my arms, and pronouncing her with the honor of my departed mother’s name, I was certain that I loved her; and the fact that she was my child alone was reason enough to treat her mother, regardless of the genesis or circumstances of our relationship, with the respect due to anyone whom you share such an intimate bond. But I learned quickly that my pride, enthusiasm, and even participation in the birth itself was not considered normal or acceptable behavior in the case of unmarried parents.

 

“Your only responsibility is to pay child support and pick up your child twice a month, that’s it – you owe her (the mother) nothing”, said one friend in a comment intended to support me. Another less supportive family matriarch said, while I was proudly showing the first ultrasound pictures, “The circumstances of your child[s] [conception] make her birth nothing to be excited about.”

 

From advice about setting up a DNA test by amniocentesis (a risky procedure where a needle is inserted into the mother’s pregnant uterus and amniotic fluid is extracted for analysis), to pre-establishing a court monitored child support payment structure, no matter how well intended the opinion they all made one thing clear – me and the mother of my child were not playing for the same team. As further evidence of this, not one person ever asked – without prompting – about the physical health or emotional well-being of the mother. Not one.  

 

As an African-American psychiatrist I am very familiar with the statistics illustrating the continued disintegration of the nuclear African-American family, and what prognosis it portends their offspring. Recent statistics have shown that 70% of all births to African-American women were out of wedlock, and in those homes the children are more likely to be truant, have lower self-esteem, and become prone to substance abuse and future incarceration.  I fully realize that our reasoned decision not to marry at this time statistically places my daughter at greater risk to fall victim to these societal ills.

 

But that is not the reason why I went to every doctor appointment with Mikaili’s mother. It’s not the reason why I helped her monitor her diet and kept track of her physical milestones. Nor was it the reason why I was there for her, whenever she needed me day or night; including those times when she just wanted to vent at “the one who did this to me.”  

 

I did so because caring and loving them both was the right thing to do.

 

I did so because I learned from my father that men are not perfect, and being less than so they must have the courage to take responsibility for deviations, self induced or not, from the plan they imagined for themselves.  I did so because I learned from my mother that women are moved by the tenderness and respect men show towards them, and respond by pouring that same love and tenderness back into the relationship and their children.   

 

 

There is a significant body of research and articles showing the importance of emotional support specifically from the biological father to the birth mother in the fostering of a close bond between mother and child. As a community of extended family and friends, we need to encourage mothers and fathers to strive for more than just respecting each other and minding court orders.  We must encourage them to understand that if a loving and committed marriage is the ideal, then those same values are ideally suited for unmarried parents who want the best for their children.

 

Today, I continue to support her mother in every way because I am determined that the circumstances of my daughter’s conception and birth will not affect the quantity or quality of the love that she witnesses and receives from us together, not separately, as her parents.  And I do so because they both – she and her mother – by virtue of their relationship to me and our relationship to each other deserve my love, respect, and affection.  

 

 

 

I am interested in receiving feedback regarding your experiences (good and bad) with the unmarried father (or mother) of your child for a book I am currently writing. Some points to consider: What were the circumstances of your relationship previous to the birth? What level of involvement did the partner maintain with you during the pregnancy, and then after the birth? What advice (good and bad) did you receive from family and friends? What finally worked for you two? What advice would you give to other unmarried parents trying to do the best for their children? Don’t worry about grammar - just tell your story as you please.  Please post your responses here in the comment section of this article with your contact information, if possible.  All posts will be modified by me before appearing in the comments section to protect your privacy and you will be identified only by your initials and location, unless you make additional confidentially requests – which will be honored. Please also feel free to contact me directly at rdpatter@iupui.edu. Thank you.

Our Shared Inheritance

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath -

America will be!

          Langston Hughes

 

I confess, I never felt like a true American.  Sure, I believe in freedom, democracy, the rule of law and the precepts put forth in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  These are beautifully crafted, heartfelt words and documents hammered out and written by men of truly great intent. In fact, as much as the original 3/5^thrule offends me as a descendant of slaves, it doesn’t change the fact that I firmly believe that in all, the base upon which America was founded for its true citizens was strong.

 

But while the groundbreaking has begun on a beautiful monument to Dr. King, Washington, D.C. for me has always been a painful reminder of the fact that I don’t feel like a true American. For as much as my parents tried to convince me otherwise as a child, the realities of American society, even as an adult, led me to conclude that there was a ceiling to my individual aspirations; and that I was equally unlikely to see any African-American become president in my lifetime.

 

That is why being present in the nation’s capital on this 20^th day of January in the year 2009 was paramount to me. Not just because an African-American was to take the oath of office as president of the United States, but because I wanted to feel what I imagine most other Americans feel when they come to Washington, D.C.  I wanted to look at the Washington and Jefferson monuments and the Lincoln Memorial and feel that this was the cradle of my inheritance as well.

 

That is why, after the flights sold out, I didn’t mind driving over six hundred miles across the country. That is why I didn’t complain while standing in 20 degree weather for five hours just to get on the train to D.C. On this chilly January day I yearned for the warmth of July’s Independence Day, the warmth that comes from knowing you belong in the land your ancestors toiled upon as slaves, and died for in a righteous movement at home and wars abroad.

 

 

So I was surprised when, as I stood less than 30 yards from the podium where “a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant” prepared to take the oath of office to become our nation’s 44^th, and first African-American, commander in chief, I was distracted. Facing me was the magnificence of the Capital building, built over two hundred years ago over a span of thirty plus years by slave labor. Behind me were the deafening cheers of almost two million of my fellow citizens of all races, three hundred thousand waving flags, gathered on the National Mall shoulder to shoulder to witness the promise of our founding fathers kept, to see a dream fulfilled. 

 

 

 

 

In my hand was my daughter’s favorite teddy bear, brought along so that she would know some day, as I know my ancestors knew then, that I was thinking about all of them at this very moment.

 

 

I was grateful when we were asked to bow our heads for the invocation, because I could no longer hold them back.  Tears shed not in sorrow, but in remembrance and reverence for all Americans, of all colors, who lived and died to make this moment possible.

 

As the tears continued to flow, a queen sang, two young princesses smiled and waved, and thirty-five imperfectly recited and repeated words later the kingdom celebrated with a twenty-one gun salute. Only there are no kings here in America; just the heir to a King, and vanquished was not an enemy, but any lingering doubts about our shared inheritance.

 

Published: Thursday, January 22, 2009 – Inpls. Business Journal

                   Friday, January 23, 2009 – Huffington Post

                   Wednesday, February 25, 2009 – Jackson Advocate

               

 

 

 

What the inauguration means to me

 

As Dr. King said in his “Mountain Top” speech, I see God working in this period of the 21^st century in America, and I thank Him for allowing me to witness its citizen’s respond.  It was a privilege to join the millions who knocked on doors in the cold and rain, volunteered our time, donated money and use of our homes, and voted this transcendent phase in American politics and history into life. The significance of President-Elect Barack Obama’s inauguration as the 44^th president in our nation’s great history resides in the sweat, blood, and tears shed by our forefathers so that people of all races, creed, color, and gender could share in the American inheritance.

 

I imagine Harriet Tubman, no longer troubled by the epilepsy and migraines brought on by the steel weight her master used to fracture her skull, conducting a new railroad; one which carries heroes of the American freedom movement.  In the last car Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglas sit across from each other playing chess, the game as equal as their intellect, still discussing what could have been done differently to save the Union from war while bringing about freedom for all its people.

 

In another car forward sits Goodman, Chaney, and Schwerner with Medger Evers discussing registering voters in the Mississippi of a more dangerous time.  “All in all”, Medger concludes his argument, “Nothing matches the will of people in the South to overcome.”   Then, winking at Chaney, he starts another debate, “And nothing matches the magnificence of watching the sun kiss the Delta at dusk!” Schwerner says, “The Delta?! Nothing beats the breeze off the Atlantic…..”, before they are startled by a loud scream from the adjacent car.

 

 

It is four little girls – Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, Cynthia Wesley, and Addie Mae Collins, dressed in their Sunday best, cackling loudly as they surround a young boy who has taken off with one of their hair ribbons and dangles it playfully over their heads.  “You ca-ca-can’t ge-ge-get it!” he stutters. And as a broad smile crosses his handsome face, he takes off running into the next car.

 

 

 

Hearing the commotion, a little old lady quickly lays down her crochet and stands up, of her own volition, and placing finger to mouth says, “Shhhhh, Emmett! Don’t you see the doctor is resting?”  Turning to her car companion, she says softly, “Martin, we’re almost there.  Aren’t you excited?” Without opening an eye, he awakes from his dream and peacefully replies, “Yes, I am. But remember Mrs. Parks, I’ve already seen the Promised Land.”

 

In the front car reserved for the most distinguished guests, sitting side by side are two of the least known passengers, Ann Dunham Soetoro and Lorraine Wilson Patterson, my mother. 

 

 

 

While not well known, these two remarkable women, both returning to their maker 53 years removed from their birth, spent their lives preparing their children to forge ahead in the America of Dr. King’s dream.  They are representatives of all our ancestors, native, immigrant, freeman and slave alike, who worked tirelessly to make America, in Dr. King’s words, “what it ought to be.”

 

“I am so proud of our sons, all of our children”, Lorraine says through tears.  “So am I”, replies Ann softly.  Beginning to cry herself, she continues, “What do you think you’ll miss the most about not being there?”  Lorraine’s mind rushes from witnessing this historic occasion with her beloved husband, her five children, her two grandchildren, including her only granddaughter – who was named posthumously for her – before arriving at an answer.  “You know”, she says smiling so broadly her dimples show, “I never got to hear Aretha sing live.” “Amen, my sister!” The next president’s mother exclaims as they embraced while laughing.  “Amen.”

 

Published: Thursday, January 15, 2008 – Black America Web                  

                  Thursday, January 15, 2008 – Huffington Post

                  Friday, January 16, 2008 – Black News Tribune

                  Sunday, January 18, 2008 – Lexington Herald

 

Obama Outlines American Promise

Published: Thursday, September 4, 2008 – Indianapolis Recorder

There are those special moments in life.  The birth of your first child, your high school graduation, a treasured moment spent with a parent as a youngster.  Different for all of us, yet similar in the assurance that at that moment in time you know that you are exactly where God wants you to be. 

For me, the Democratic National Convention was one of those times.  But perhaps more importantly, this was one of those moments for America.  A transcendent historical phase in American politics and life, eloquently articulated in a 42-minute oratory.

“With profound gratitude and great humility, I accept your nomination for the presidency of the United States.”

On a warm August evening at INVESCO Field in Denver, underneath a clear sky and in front of a crowd of 84,000 people of different races, religions, and even political affiliation – with an unprecedented 40 million Americans watching on television – Senator Barack Obama uttered these words and began to outline what will surely be remembered as The American Promise.  Forty-five years to the day after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. shared his dream with the world, Senator Obama’s nomination as the first African-American to head one of the two major American political parties marks the clearest indication that America has awakened, and the dream is becoming a reality.

“(That) in America,” in Senator Obama’s words, “(our children can) achieve whatever they put their minds to.”

Being an African-American man in my 40s, like Senator Obama, I was too young to participate in the civil rights movement.  And though a few years younger I, like him, share the frustration of not being born in an era where I could contribute first hand to the struggle, which exemplified to the world the African-Americans’ strength of community and unwavering dedication to the pursuit of our inherent human dignity.  But it was reliving those moments – from Emmett Till to the March on Washington to Bloody Sunday and beyond – with my mother narrating, while watching black and white television specials seen primarily during Black History Month and that of Dr. King’s birthday, which inspired me as young man to be dedicated to my community.

My mother, Lorraine Patterson, like Senator Obama’s mother, died of cancer at the age of 53, 10 years ago.  Yet it was inspiration from those remarkable women and that era, which led both me and Barack Obama to share the same Denver sky on this night.

Congressman Representative John Lewis, a Georgia Democrat who marched with Dr. King as a young man and was brutally assaulted on the infamous Bloody Sunday, felt here was where he belonged as well.  When asked what Senator Obama’s nomination meant to him he said through tears, ”This is one of the most amazing, unbelievable moments of my life…the struggle was all worth it. Tonight is another down payment on the dream.”

Indiana State Representative William Crawford, D-Indianapolis, who has represented the 98th District since 1972, and was the state’s co-chair of the Jackson for President committee with the late Congresswoman Julia Carson, was asked whether there is a certain amount of pride being not just an American, but also an African-American on this historic day. “Absolutely,” he replied simply yet emphatically. “I’ve been a part of the struggle for the last 38 years to achieve and make real the American dream. Consider us the same as you consider anyone – by (our) merits and the content of our character, not just the color of our skin.”

But the day was too large for just African-Americans to take pride in. The American Promise outlined by Senator Obama that caused 84,000 Americans of varying backgrounds to cheer, cry, hug strangers, and wave flags with renewed pride represents a return to the essence of the American spirit. “It is that American spirit – that American promise – that pushes us forward even when the path is uncertain; that binds us together in spite of our differences; that makes us fix our eye not on what is seen, but what is unseen, that better place around the bend.”

I asked Senator Dick Durbin, Democrat of Illinois, who introduced Senator Obama last Thursday and is widely credited with first encouraging him to run for the presidency, whether he felt additional pride in playing this role in history. After pausing a bit reflectively, he said, “I can remember a much different America than there is today. But the fact that we are now this close, in this moment in history, really gives me a lot of faith in this country. That we can conquer even some of the prejudices that have torn us apart all these years; and elect a man for the value of that person, rather than the color of their skin.”

As Senator Obama concluded a speech that will likely be reviewed and studied for scores of years, he reflected on what he called “our greatest inheritance.” “It’s a promise I make to my daughters when I tuck them in at night, and a promise that you make to yours.” With his voice rising sharply he continued, ”And it is that promise that 45 years ago today, brought Americans from every corner of this land to stand together on a Mall in Washington, before Lincoln’s Memorial, and hear a young preacher from Georgia speak of his dream. In America, our destiny is inextricably linked. That together, our dreams can be one.”

Shortly afterwards, as the thundering applause crescendoed, he was joined onstage by his vice presidential running mate Senator Joe Biden of Delaware and the Biden family amid a fireworks show which rivaled most Fourth of July celebrations. As streamers were launched, and orchestral music of booms and strings filled the stadium, the large screen captured an unforgettably adorable shot of Obama’s youngest daughter Sasha and Biden’s young granddaughter Natalie playing amidst the falling confetti.

And for me, it was once again one of those moments where I knew exactly where I should be. But it was no longer in Denver. It was time for me to get home and tuck 10 month-old Lorraine into bed – and tell her about the American Promise.

Keith J Woodard Memorial Scholarship Fund

Published: October 10, 2008 – Indianapolis Recorder

Courage. Dedication. Grace. Humility. These are just some of the attributes which distinguish those we deem our heroes. Few question that Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X possessed them in abundance and, though history is still unfolding, the challenges facing a possible Obama presidency will likely provide the historical context necessary for his fair assessment. For it is conventional wisdom that heroes are “a product of their times”; it takes great challenges to truly define a man’s character.

But that theory is put to the test by the quietly extraordinary life of one Dr. Keith Woodard, who on October 16th will be honored posthumouslywith the prestigious Indiana Public Health Award at the 2008 George Rawls M.D. Scholarship Scholarship Dinner. Keith was a 1992 graduate of the Indiana University School of School of Medicine (IUSM) and an anesthesiologist who spent the majority of his career on staff at St. Vincent’s Hospital. He was my friend and, though we were roughly the same age, a mentor and hero of mine.

Though Keith was very dedicated to his career at St. Vincent’s he was a strong advocate of community service, and refused to allow the love of his profession to override his passion for missionary work. He participated in medical mission trips to South Africa, Sri Lanka, and Thailand.  He felt personally called to provide care to victims of the tsunami in Indonesia and Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. In total, Keith completed at least 12 mission trips, including 8 to the continent of Africa itself.

Keith was my hero not only because he showed courage, dedication, grace, and humility in challenging times, but also because he spent his life encouraging the attributes in others. Recognizing the importance of education in his own life, he was tirelessly committed to mentoring students in high school, and was deservedly inducted into the North Central High School Alumni Hall of Fame in 2006.  While Keith himself was a graduate of Indiana University in Bloomington, he was an avid fundraiser for the United Negro College Fund because he truly believed the organization’s motto admonishment “A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste” was another personal call to action for him.

 Sadly, in a tragic motorcycle accident, on June 25th of this year the city of Indianapolis and IUSM lost a great friend and colleague; but the world lost an even greater humanitarian and human being.

While it is true challenges can reveal character, Keith’s character was revealed in that he himself sought the challenges, and handled them and those around him with grace. Those who knew him remember a vibrant spirit with an infectious smile, love of life, and steadfast faith in God. Keith’s life cannot be fully measured by a mere accounting of his heroic selflessness. His spirit was a like ripple which continues to spread, threatening a tsunami of compassion and dedication to others.

Heroes like Keith, if we are so blessed, come along once in a lifetime. From their touch comes our responsibility to continue to express God’s love for others through service. In response to this challenge his friends and family are dedicated to creating an endowed scholarship in Keith’s name. Upon full funding of $100,000, the Keith J. Woodard Memorial Scholarship Fund will provide $5,000 in scholarships annually to two under-represented minority students for fees related to medical mission work overseas, or in a designated disaster area.

You can donate to the scholarship fund at www.medicine.iu.edu/woodard. For additional information, please contact either of the Keith J. Woodard M.D. Memorial Scholarship Fund co-chairs, Dr. Robert Patterson (rdpatter@iupui.edu) or Dr. Tina Harris (tkkinchen@yahoo.com).

“If you’re in medicine, you’re here for a reason – you’re here because you care.”

Keith J. Woodard M.D.

Country First

Published: Thursday, October 30, 2008 – Indianapolis Recorder

 

 Country first.

 

This noble statement of purpose, made to sound hollow and divisive during the current campaign, is more than just a convenient slogan to some. Throughout 39 years of distinguished service to this country risking life and limb in the field and, arguably, his reputation, in service to the sitting President, General Colin Powell has lived this principle.

 

Yet, last Sunday, after again proving his courage by giving a sterling endorsement across political lines, the rationale of the most respected military man of our times was reduced to a single common denominator – race. So complete was the right’s rebuke that conservative MSNBC pundit Pat Buchanan openly questioned his integrity, snarling, “It smacks of opportunism, it smacks of ingratitude.” Chronicling the general’s rise through the ranks under Republicans, Buchanan discussed the general as if he were some favored puppy who went on the carpet, instead of a respected and loyal patriot.

 

If charges of racism, as some bloggers have asserted, are being leveled at a man of Colin Powell’s stature, it is no wonder that so many African-Americans are reluctant to acknowledge publicly that race is a relevant factor in our support for Senator Obama.

 

Yes, I said it. Race is an important and relevant factor in the support Senator Obama receives from the African-American community.

 

 

But this so-called “tribal mentality” is not unique to African-Americans. If that were the case, why then for decades has a Southerner’s presence been necessary on a presidential ticket for it to have a chance at the White House? The last elected president where neither he nor the vice-president was either born or an elected official in the South was during Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s third-term – in 1933! The same goes for the current Republican Vice-Presidential candidate, Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. No one describes it as sexist for women to vote with consideration to her gender, in fact, it is openly noted that that was one of the primary reasons for her selection.

 

Tribalism is not a new phenomenon in American politics, only it has long been used to specifically pit one group against another, separating the tribe from its own self-interest and beneficence of the country itself.

 

But that is not the case here. Clearly General Powell believes the election of Senator Obama will be good for the country. As he articulated in his endorsement, “[W]hich is the president we need now? Which is the individual that serves the needs of the nation for the next period of time? [B]ecause of his ability to inspire, because of the inclusive nature of his campaign, because he is reaching out all across America, because of who he is and his rhetorical abilities…as well as his substance…he has met the standard of being a successful president, being an exceptional president.”

 

But while the general rightfully puts country first, there is nothing racist about African-Americans openly voicing pride and support for Senator Obama for his verve, his years of dedication to our community, and for the risks and sacrifices he and his family have taken on behalf of the nation by his candidacy.

 

So let me be the first to say that I don’t vote for Senator Obama because he is African-American, I vote for him because I AM African-American! Because I selfishly want to live in the America of Dr. King’s dream, one where my self-interest and that of my community, are synonymous with – Country first.

Election Night With Old Glory

Published: Wednesday, November 5, 2008 – Huffington Post        

                       Thursday, November 13, 2008 – Indianapolis Recorder

“Face each other, each holding one end. Fold it lengthwise with the blue field under, then again lengthwise to show the blue field on top. Now Robert and Bill, you hold the blue end while they fold it snugly in triangles. Careful! Don’t drop it, don’t drop it!”

Bill was my best friend in the fourth-grade at Carver Elementary in Gary, Indiana, and during classtime Mr. Whitehead was our favorite teacher. But neither of us enjoyed our time with him before and after class. We were patrol boys, kids who were entrusted by teachers to help monitor school crossings and, unfortunately for us, to raise the school’s flag. Mr. Whitehead always seemed so much more critical of us then during, what seemed to us anyway, this mundane activity. Once, as we lowered the flag, a small part of it just barely touched the ground and he stared at us for what felt like minutes. As he turned to walk towards the school, I heard him mutter while shaking his head, “They just don’t get it. They just don’t get it.”

It’s been thirty-three years since I was a patrol boy, and Mr. Whitehead and Bill are both no longer with us; but I found myself thinking about them last night as MSNBC declared Democrat Senator Barack Obama of Ilinois had defeated Republican Senator John McCain of Arizona to become the 44th, and first African-American, President-Elect of the United States.

Despite the unseasonably warm weather in Chicago, with over one million people predicted to attend President-Elect Obama’s acceptance speech at Grant Park in Chicago, I decided at the last minute to decline a ticket to the event. As the day many African-Americans doubted we’d see in our lifetime became more likely, I imagined spending election night watching the returns with my daughter and calling friends would be the perfect end to nine-months of campaigning. But long-term volunteer Patricia Ellis had other ideas.

Patricia, who registered over 1,000 voters during the primary and general election seasons, used her skills to quickly recruit her mother for the ride to Chicago to witness history. While speeding to Chicago she called and breathlessly said, “This night is so much larger than a presidential election. Senator Obama and this grassroots campaign have changed the way I and others involved perceive ourselves as Americans and individuals. We proved that with organization, determination, and belief in yourself and the best in others, you can overcome any label or false limits others place on you. I feel so empowered!”

It was millions of volunteers and donors like Patricia who made the seemingly impossible a reality. Proving inspirational change comes from the efforts of individuals who truly believe that “We (the people) are the change we have been waiting for.” It is that type of inspirational change which caused our home state of Indiana, one of the reddest areas in the union, to turn blue for the first time in forty-four years.

But with all the American history made on this night, the most important was the continuation of the paradigm shift in the image of the African-American, which began in earnest when Obama accepted the Democratic Party’s nomination for the presidency in August. The succeeding three months were essentially the final stages of the country’s interview process for not just an Obama presidency, but the presidency of an African-American. He was subjected to grossly unfair Republican attacks on his character, his patriotism, and his wife – the last being a new low, even for the rough game of presidential politics. Yet, through it all Senator Obama was unflappable, and neither he nor his staff attributed any of it to race.

Perhaps it was because this was the easiest path to victory. As an African-American familiar with breaking down barriers, he surely knew that any appeals to fairness would go unheeded and any hint of anger would trigger fear of “the angry Black male.” It’s a common conundrum facing the accession of any African-American male to positions of power.

But I believe the answer is found in the first passage of his address in Grant Park on Tuesday night. “If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.” Despite knowing that he would likely lose the election if he “played the race card”, he was sure that in the fallout choosing the more qualified candidate would become secondary to the issue of race, depriving this nation of an opportunity to confront its own past.

No one could rationally believe that having an African-American in the White House is the end of racism in America, but it’s image is a powerful one for both African-Americans and Caucasians to deny. It will cause some to re-think old perceptions, and allow a younger generation to imprint a new more accurate pattern. But with these shattering perceptions come new responsibilities on behalf of African-Americans as well. As Dr. Joycelyn Elders, the first African-American U.S. Surgeon General only half-jokingly said Tuesday night as we discussed the election, “Our young Black men no longer have an excuse. They now have to pull up their drawers and go to work!”

Later Senator Obama continued, “So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other.” Using the tools of hope and enpowerment during his campaign to help America recommit itself to its highest ideals, President-Elect Obama on Tuesday night began to point us towards a new era; one where its citizens will be asked to put aside the labels and divisions of the past, and come together as Americans to do the work necessary to again become the beacon of the world.

So as I walked down my basement steps and searched boxes I had forgotten about for years, I found myself thinking of Bill and Mr. Whitehead. Inside one box there was a dusty plastic bag which held the flag I and my childhood friend carelessly dropped that one afternoon, for it was never allowed to fly again on school grounds. That flag flew again last night, the first time I’ve mounted a flag since I was a 10 year-old patrol boy. But you can be sure I was careful to not let it touch the ground this time.

I get it, Mr. Whitehead. I get it.

 

Growing Up With Obama

Published: Wednesday, October 15, 2008 – Huffington Post

“It is impossible to develop future leaders of tomorrow without providing them with a solid historical foundation.”         

          Myrlie Evers-Williams

Carefully traversing the muddy fairground track toward the stage adorned with a beautifully majestic American flag flowing from a huge crane, I could just hear Senator Evan Byah’s introduction of Democrat presidential nominee Barack Obama above the partisan Indianapolis crowd. To an estimated 12,000 to 20,000 who braved the drizzle and gathered at the Indiana State Fairground’s this past Wednesday; Senator Bayh recalled hearing then presidential-candidate Lyndon Baines Johnson at this same location forty-four years ago to the day. Incidentally, the last time Indiana went for the Democratic nominee for president in the general election.

But the story here is not the coincidence of the appearances, its connection to the last time Indiana turned blue, or even the substance of the speech itself. It is that Senator Byah, like his parents before him, brought his nine year old twins with him. Perhaps purposefully understating the historic nature of the moment, Senator Bayh told the crowd, “To see the next Democrat to carry the state of Indiana.”

While the superstitious presidential nominee himself tried to hush the crowd when they corrected his “If I become president” with chants of, “When! When! When!”, it has become increasingly likely that we are witnessing true American history. Why then were there so few African-American children there?

This being my sixth time seeing Senator Obama speak, twice outside the state including his nomination speech in Denver, I realize that my perspective may be somewhat skewed. My mother encouraged my early interest in the civil rights movement and my excitement has carried over to my 11-month old daughter, her namesake, who points and yells “Bama!” whenever the senator is on television. But as excited and motivated as I believe African-Americans are to support and vote for a candidate who represents the American dream in general, and understands our community in particular, I wonder are we perhaps underselling the positive impact this historic moment could have on our children.

While 24-hour cable news shows, the internet, and web logs, discuss Senator Obama’s candidacy from every angle, are we ourselves discussing it with our children in our homes? Are we appropriately linking it to the dedication and discipline of those brave soldiers of the civil rights movement? Are we holding up the senator and his wife as examples of the unlimited possibilities afforded to all who value and vigorously pursue education, work hard, and live lives of integrity and faith?

In motivational psychology this is termed a “teaching moment”, an unexpected and unplanned opportunity to really connect and teach our children. While everyone can’t take off work to witness history, perhaps some can volunteer and take our children along to become part of history itself. Many of us can watch the speeches and debates with our children as examples of political discourse, or cut out newspaper clippings as a family for the development of a scrapbook of pride. Finally, we can take our children to the polls with us, so that they can witness a rite of democracy, and our commitment to the principle, in person.

Much the same way violence and misogyny in music and television can promote negativity, the positive lessons of this historical campaign, if used correctly, can embed themselves in a child’s psyche and influence their future. Former Senator Birch Bayh, who watched his son introduce the man likely to be the next president of the United States, understood that principle. Shouldn’t our children have that same advantage?

For more information on the history of the civil rights movement, a great resource is the book Civil Rights Chronicle: The African-American Struggle for Freedom published by Legacy Publishing.

 

Lives Were Lost for your Right to Vote

Published: Friday, October 3, 2008 – Indianapolis Recorder

                           Monday, October 20, 2008 – Huffington Post

“You are the change you have been waiting for.”
          Senator Barack Obama

It was a typically warm spring day and a twelve-year-old black boy was covering his eyes behind a tree, as his friends scurried away from him. Like many other kids who have played hide-and-go-seek he found himself wondering, “How did I end up here?”

But this was no ordinary day, and he and his friends were not playing games. Neither were the angry men who turned fire hoses into weapons and terrified defenseless children with attack dogs. This was 1963 in Birmingham, Alabama, and Freeman Hrabowski was a student leader of the children’s section of a civil rights march to the steps of city hall. Some forty-three years removed from those struggles and the resultant passage of the Voting Rights Act, Dr. Freeman Hrabowski, nationally acclaimed president of the University of Maryland, Baltimore County ponders another question, one he never thought he’d hear from African-Americans:

Why should I vote?

According to the 2004 U.S. census there were 23 million African Americans aged 18 and over. Of these only 16 million (69%) are registered to vote, and only 14 million actually voted in the 2004 presidential campaign. This means only 60% of African-Americans eligible to vote actually voted. While this represents a three percent increase over 2000, the gap has increased from five to seven percent behind the 67% rate of non-Hispanic whites.

“A lot of my students say voting is not as important in the post civil rights world,” said Dr. Hrabowski, whose research and publications focus on participation and performance of African-American males. “But I first encourage them to become more involved in the political process. The more you understand the process, the more you understand how important the right to vote is.”

A prime example of this involvement is the time Senator Obama spent as a community organizer working on behalf of the poor on the south side of Chicago. It is this experience which allowed him to hone the skills necessary to develop an unprecedented grassroots political organization which could help him capture the White House.

Dr. Hrabowski’s parents were educators who were politically active and took him to civil rights meetings where he heard Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth, and others speak. “Mostly I sat in the back doing homework, but my curiosity was piqued when I heard that this could help me go to better schools. My mind’s eye opened to the possibilities. So, when Dr. King asked for volunteers I asked my parents.”

Though they were ultimately successful in integrating Birmingham, it was not without significant sacrifice. Dr. Hrabowski was a classmate of Cynthia Wesley, one of the four little girls murdered in the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church. He relived this painful memory in the Spike Lee documentary “Four Little Girls.” “It is not a cliché when people say many lives were lost for your right to vote.”

There is a powerful African ritual of pouring libation in memory of ancestors that has been integrated into African-American culture. In reverence to the historical significance of this presidential campaign, let’s empower the memory of two specific loved ones lost by helping at least two others to the polls on Election Day.