In 1987 I was given a copy of Brian Lanker's I Dream a World by one of my mother's best friends, Rose Swanson. I will never forget seeing the black-and-white image of Septima Clark on the cover. Where had she come from? My curiosity was ignited. She was so dignified, so proud, so purposeful, and so real — it was a beautifully honest photograph. I had never seen such a book before. I was invigorated. Fine. Beautiful. Bold. Brilliant. Colored women. Black women. African American women. (Ain't they bad!) I was overwhelmed by these women. I was imbued with a sense of possibility. The women of I Dream a World were women I had seen in magazines and books, women I had heard sing or speak, women whose writings I had read, women whom I had never heard of before, women I had dreamed about. I was in awe.
I Dream a World was a gift for my graduation from Mercy, an all-girls Catholic high school in Farmington Hills, Michigan. It was fitting that Mrs. Swanson gave it to me, as she was the sort of woman who celebrated black sisterhood and strong women. Mrs. Swanson was an intelligent, beautiful woman, a wife, mother, Detroit public school teacher, proud member of Delta Sigma Theta, and dedicated member of our community. She very well could have been one of the women profiled in I Dream a World, as could many of the women who made up the tapestry of my childhood.
I grew up in downtown Detroit and went to Christ Church every Sunday with my family. My parents, Magellan and Thelma McCrary, were born in Georgia and Alabama, respectively, and their families migrated north in the twenties to find work. After coming home from World War II, my dad got a job with Ford Motor Company, and he worked there for forty years. My mother was a Detroit public school teacher and principal for more than forty years. We were not wealthy by any means, but my parents worked hard, saved their money, and made sure my sister and I felt secure, had good values, and received an excellent education. A tall, elegant woman, my mother would neatly dress for work every morning before making breakfast wearing one of her many aprons. She would fix my dad the brown-bag lunch he took to work every day. She would then get my sister and me off to school, head to work herself, then return home, cook dinner, do homework with us, bathe us, read us a story, put us to bed, and somehow bake cookies, rolls, and cakes in her spare time. She did this every day and every night without fail. Honesty, hard work, kindness, and love were the hallmarks of my childhood. And there were other African American women in my community, mothers of my childhood friends, who similarly cared for their families: Mrs. Whatley, Mrs. Pitts, Mrs. Danley, Dr. Doss, Mrs. Mackey, Mrs. Dodd, Mrs. Sims, Judge Diggs, and so many others.
These black women informed my early perception of motherhood and community. I marvel now when I reflect on my mother and these other women, because they were fierce. They did it all without thinking twice. They did what needed to be done to make better lives for their children. With few material possessions, they took care of their households, husbands, and children while remaining dignified and beautiful. They took pride not only in their families but also in their own womanhood. I am indebted to them. I feel a responsibility to their legacy and the legacies of so many before and after them, a responsibility to set the record straight. I feel a responsibility to honor their memories and the sacrifices they made for their children and communities.
I received I Dream a World as I was about to head off to college at the University of Michigan. For the first time in my life, I contemplated who I wanted to be as a woman. Like many seventeen-year-olds, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life other than get through college and perhaps do something "creative," whatever that meant. Over the course of my freshman year and beyond, I found myself returning to the stories and images of the women in I Dream a World. I found comfort, guidance, and inspiration in their lives. Each of those women was like a little treasure to be savored and protected. As it happened, my creativity took a slight detour: I graduated, went to law school, and joined a large New York City law firm before leaving to finally pursue that career in the arts. I started writing novels and producing television shows and film, and I made sure to feature strong black women in some shape or form. It was both a passion and an obsession of mine.
I Dream a World left an indelible mark on my mind and my being. Every step, every experience in my life, personal and professional, has led me to the book you are now holding. Having the supreme privilege not only of interviewing these extraordinary women and hearing their remarkable stories, but also of crafting a narrative capturing the spirit of their journeys, has been more than just an honor. It has been a defining experience in my life. All the women have been incredibly generous in what they have shared of their lives: their stories, advice, pitfalls, passions, inspirations, and, most valuable, their time. I have been so humbled by and grateful for their generosity of spirit. These are extremely busy women, but they took the time to be a part of Inspiration. And since I began this project, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought about some gem that these thirty extraordinary women shared. My life is fuller and richer from hearing their stories. These women are gifts to us all.
In the course of interviews and photo shoots, I watched Judith Jamison sway and smile and emote excellence while the next generation of Ailey dancers were transfixed in her regal presence, imagining perhaps that their paths might mirror hers. I listened to Marian Wright Edelman drop painful knowledge about the cradle-to-prison pipeline that is plaguing our black sons and daughters in this country, and I was rapt as Susan Taylor's silky voice told me about the beautiful black women she saw on college campuses in the sixties and seventies, who had never heard anyone call them pretty before. I was grateful to enter Betye Saar's Hollywood Hills art studio and be surrounded by her "found" treasures, which each hold a magical story waiting to be told by her hands and her heart. I listened to Shonda Rhimes plainly state the truth that all writers must understand in order to be writers: "You must write every day." And I learned the many lives and lessons of Bethann Hardison, especially the importance of running one's own race. Thelma Golden shared with me her deep passion for art, which began when she was a young girl, and Janice Bryant Howroyd — one of the world's most successful businesswomen — shared what she considers her greatest achievement: learning to love herself the way God intended. Mary J. Blige told me she needed to learn to get out of her own way before life really started opening up for her. I was touched by the joyous addiction to life that Gayle King radiates with every word she speaks, and by her reminder to all women that there is a big pie out there, enough for each of us. I listened to Iman's stories about recognizing her self-worth and fighting to ensure others were aware of theirs. I saw Keke Palmer, through all her early successes, be constantly respectful to her mother and father and give praise to God. I witnessed Ruby Dee soulfully recite poetry and tales alone onstage at the Ossie Davis Theater with only a chair and her extraordinary talent as her companions.
To hear these women share the unfolding of their destinies, through triumph and tragedy, to witness the possibilities that these women turned into realities, has been both humbling and inspiring. They made me feel, again and again. They reminded me that excellence prevails, that standards still exist, that hard work does indeed pay off, and that staying true to oneself is ultimately the measure of one's success and, more important, one's fulfillment. The women of Inspiration embody a commitment to the ideals of truth and beauty. They are the women I want my daughter, Ella, to emulate as she forges her own path in the world. They are the sort of women I hope my son, Cole, will seek as a partner. They deserve to be honored.
We have made great gains in recent decades in acknowledging and celebrating the accomplishments of all women, regardless of race. Indeed, women now hold leadership positions in business, politics, athletics, academics, and entertainment. The women of Inspiration stand on their own merits and are successful by any standard. Without question, their examples will inspire and move us for generations to come. They, along with other strong, dignified, compassionate, and unsung heroic women, beginning with my dear mother, have allowed me to be the woman I am today. They have spent a little time with me and have allowed me the privilege of sharing their legacy with you. It is on their shoulders that I stand. It is their inspiration that moves us forward.
