My family’s story is reflective of our African-American heritage … our story is one of self-sacrifice, self-improvement, and self-empowerment. More important, it is a story of activism — of fighting for political freedoms, of marching for civil rights, and fostering a commitment to education.
My family was active in the civil rights movement. So, it is only fitting that my parents met at a civil rights rally in 1964. Both were members of the Aurora, Illinois chapter of the NAACP with my dad serving on its board of directors. My mother was an incredible woman — balancing a career with raising a family and encouraging us to be more, to do more. I’ve always felt it is from her that I get my courage. I have been blessed with strong role models from my wonderful parents to the incredibly bold, black women in my life.
Cora Johnson, or Momo as we called my maternal grandmother, fought injustice all her life. First, as a community organizer in the South — risking her life to help people to vote in the 1950s. In the 1960s, she along with her adult children, including my mom, moved to Illinois where she became a well-known community activist and, at times to the chagrin of her children and grandchildren, a regular caller to the news radio shows.
Momo tackled so many issues from education to fair housing to police misconduct. When she died in 1996, the mayor spoke at her funeral. It was then that I learned how much Momo truly had given back to the community, her role in helping others utilize their political voice, and of the other children she literally raised as her own.
My aunt Emily was the first woman president of the Aurora branch of the NAACP; and, at age 24, was one of the youngest presidents of an adult NAACP chapter. In 1966, she led the first organized civil rights demonstration in Kane County, Illinois for open housing. She served on the executive board of the West Suburban Organization for Fair Housing. She later moved to California where she taught in the Los Angeles school district for more than 30 years — teaching in both English and Spanish.
My father’s oldest sister Mildred, or Aunt Sis as she was called, was one of the smartest and kindest women I’ve ever known. While she may not have been at the forefront of marches like her sister, Emily, her role as an activist and inspiration to our family is no less. Her husband’s position as a presiding elder of the African Methodist Episcopal Church required her family to pull up stakes and move, sometimes across the country, quite often. Despite this, she was always active in church and community affairs wherever she resided. For more than 20 years, she volunteered with Mother-to-Mother Ministry in Kansas City serving as chair of the board of directors for six years and providing support to low-income mothers with children.
They are all gone now. How I miss the wisdom of their words. All were phenomenal women. None of them sat on the sidelines. Through their professional endeavors and civic engagement, they were active.
I hope they know that I’m not sitting on the sidelines. My choices, both personally and professionally, are driven by a strong belief in diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice. Perhaps, it is the whispering of my ancestors, but my conscience tells me it is the right thing to do.
