21-03-2025
It's time to honor the women who taught us, watched over us and championed our dreams
During Women's History Month, we pay homage to the great women of this country who helped to make it what it is today — and rightfully so.
But while I appreciate the likes of Sojourner Truth; Harriett Tubman; Harriett Beecher Stowe, whose book 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' exposed the cruelty of slavery to the world; Louisa Mae Alcott, abolitionist, 'Little Women' author and strong advocate for women's rights; First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt; Dr. Mary McCloud Bethune, founder of Bethune Cookman College (now university) and human rights activist; and the work they all did to help make America great, I also think about all the unknown women who helped build this country by touching one life at a time.
They were teachers, like the late Naomi Carr, who after working hard teaching third graders at the then Frederick Douglass Primary (now elementary) School in Overtown during the 1940s, spent many evenings searching for the addresses of children in her class to learn why they had missed more than one day of school. She did this for me when I missed school because of a sprained ankle.
Or the late Marian Shannon, who taught journalism to her high school students at a time when a career in journalism for Blacks at a major newspaper – especially in the South — was almost unheard of. Still, Shannon pushed her students to excel. One of them (yours truly) became the first Black female reporter at The Miami Herald. And, thankfully, she lived to celebrate with me.
Or like Jane Lewis, who taught shorthand and typing to her students even when there were no jobs available for them to use their skills. I was able to use what I learned in her class when I applied, by letter, for the file clerk position in the Miami Herald's library in 1965 and was hired.
While there were many more outstanding teachers who made a difference in my life, the memory of Carr, and Shannon and Lewis stand out, like it's etched on the breastplate of my heart and mind.
It amazes me that so many of the women in my life had the audacity to dream dreams for me and other Black youngsters as we grew up during the Jim Crow era. That, you may remember, was when there were signs everywhere reminding us of our 'place' in society. Signs that said 'Colored Only' over public water fountains. And signs on public transportation that told us, 'Colored Seat from Rear.'
These women dreamed because some women before them had dreamed for them. In so doing, they never had to settle for the lowly, underpaid job as a washer woman, or an ill-treated domestic worker that some of their foremothers had been.
But it wasn't only the schoolteachers who nurtured me, taught me how to be a strong woman. Before them, there was my mom. I've said it before: Mom was my hero. She taught me to tunnel through any situation, even when I was scared. She showed me by example, that being scared doesn't mean you don't have courage.
It took courage to leave an abusive marriage when she was only 24, with a 5-year-old (me) and a 2-year-old (my brother). Although she was 'scared silly,' she kept her faith, which gave her courage and kept her moving forward.
There were other women in my life. You wouldn't know them. They were the women in the neighborhood, the true unsung heroes, who served as surrogate moms to the neighborhood children when there was no proper childcare. They always kept a watchful eye on us children, gently scolding and dispensing love for free.
They were the likes of the late Doris (Doll) Dorsett, who with eight children of her own, found time to 'mother' a working mom's children. There was Ms. Mae Bodey, who found the time to read to a neighbor's child, opening up a whole new world to her by teaching her to love books, or a Ms. Early Mae, who did not have children of her own at the time but poured out her love on me.
Then, there was Ms. Birdie, who was our next-door neighbor when we lived in the Liberty Square Housing Project. An excellent seamstress, Ms. Birdie had two little girls — Maomi and Joyce — when I met her. The pretty dresses she made for them would rival any that the upscale Burdines carried. It was Ms. Birdie who taught me the skill of sewing. It would come in handy years later when I was able to sew a suitable wardrobe for my new job at The Miami Herald.
These are just some of the women who encouraged me when I dared to share my dreams with them. Against all odds, these brave and courageous heroes kept on teaching, nurturing and giving hope to youngsters like me even when hope for some of them had died before it was born. Yet, they never let us doubt that there would be a better day for us. And they were right.
So today, to all the women who have touched my life, and your life, in positive ways that cannot be measured – I salute you with love and respect.
