Nicole Avant is the U.S. ambassador to the Bahamas. Previously she was vice president of Interior Music Publishing. As ambassador she focuses on five initiatives: education, alternative energy, economic and small-business development, women's empowerment, and raising awareness of the challenges facing people with disabilities.
I was raised in Beverly Hills, California, and my parents still live in the house I grew up in. My parents are competitive, but in a healthy way. When it came to their children, my dad's focus was finance and my mom's was on reading and education. My father was always the first one up in the morning because he couldn't wait to read his New York Times, his Wall Street Journal, and every other paper that showed up at five A.M. He was all about "You better know how to count, and you better understand the value of money." My mom read to us every night. She was very concerned with education, because I was one of the few African Americans in my school, and historically, high expectations were not placed on African American students. My mother pushed my brother and me to be serious and do our best. When I was at sports camp competitions, she always wanted to know what place I came in and if I'd done my best. Then she'd say, "Get outside and practice" if I wasn't pleased with my results. There was never any "I can't do this" or "I'm not going to try." If I had to give a speech at school, she would make me rehearse it over and over again. At the time, I thought she was crazy, but now, in my position as ambassador to the Bahamas, I have that same habit: I will read the same speech ten times, until it fits me and I'm very comfortable with it.
My dad worked his way up to being a very successful music executive. He grew up under Jim Crow laws and left North Carolina at fifteen. He did whatever it took to succeed. He worked as a waiter, a stock clerk at Macy's, and a doorman at a jazz club. He went on to become the manager of that club, managed various musicians, started his own record labels, and eventually became the chairman of Motown Records. He recognized early on that wealth led to power and a seat at the table politically — and that power meant being able to have dialogues with politicians. Warren Beatty was the first person to take my father to a political event. He was the only black person in the room, and he quickly realized that while lawmakers make decisions for all types of people, all types of people don't have equal access to lawmakers. This new activism became the foundation for a friendship between my father and Senator Ted Kennedy. Since then, my father has supported many political figures.
Our household was very social. My mother is a philanthropist and surrounds herself with people in the arts, so the mix of guests was eclectic and lively. There were always lots of gatherings, parties, and fund-raisers, but the best part was that everybody — from politicians and businesspeople to artists and entertainers — was really great at what they did, whether or not they were famous. I'm fortunate to have been surrounded by people of excellence. At first, I was completely oblivious to their significance. I remember wondering why everyone made such a big deal of my parents' friends. There was Quincy Jones, who is my godfather and, in my opinion, one of the finest composers in music history; Sidney Poitier, whom I consider one of the best actors of all time; Harry Belafonte; and Muhammad Ali. I just didn't get it! One time, I told my teacher that Governor Jerry Brown of California had been over. She responded in disbelief, asking, "Why was the governor at your house?" I answered, "I don't know." She said, "Well, what was he doing there?" I replied, "Just talking to my father." Eventually, these kinds of conversations made me more aware of what certain people did and why they were considered special. I began to wonder what set them apart from everyone else.
I majored in broadcast journalism at California State University, Northridge, which has a wonderful program. At the time, it never occurred to me that I could end up a weather girl in Kentucky! When that became the case, I was quickly put off from the industry and jumped ship. After a stint at A&M Records, where I'd also worked in college, I joined my father's company, which back then was Tabu Records. It was a great time to be in the music business and a great time for black artists. The S.O.S. Band was really hot, as were Alexander O'Neal and Cherrelle, and they were all produced by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis for Tabu Records.
In 1998 I decided to pursue my interest in education and went to work for the Neighborhood Academic Initiative at the University of Southern California.
While I was working at the NAI, my mom kept saying to me, "You better learn more about the publishing side of the family business." Later that year, I went to work for Interior Music Publishing, one of my dad's companies. From there I continued to learn the business and to focus on what my dad was doing. He was still very active in politics and was working on John Kerry's presidential campaign. I remember Kerry's stepson, Chris Heinz, coming into the office to talk to my dad about approaching young professionals in order to raise money. I told him, "You know what? I can help you with that. I'm good at that." He and I became friends, and I ended up doing whatever I could for Kerry's campaign.
I love being a part of a team that has the common goal of working for the good of something. I remember being so excited to participate in a political campaign, at least on a fund-raising level, and I wanted to make sure more African Americans became involved. I was passionate about getting young people excited about politics and about hiring interns to go into inner-city schools to generate interest in helping out with the campaign. I did more of this kind of work for President Obama's campaign, but I got the idea from Kerry's campaign. Between the Kerry and Obama campaigns, I helped out former congressman Harold Ford, Jr., who was running for the U.S. Senate. He used to call me his "chairwoman." On every conference call with his fund-raisers, he'd jokingly ask, "Chairwoman, what do you think we should do?" I was so passionate about his campaign that I flew to Tennessee to work for him. I was devastated when he lost. I mean, he lost by such a small number of votes, but it didn't matter. It was just devastating because I knew how hard everyone had worked and how great a senator he would have been. At the same time, his loss fueled me for what came next, which was Obama's presidential campaign.
The irony of it was that I actually did become the finance cochairwoman of Obama's campaign in California. I called Harold and laughed, saying, "See, you called me 'Chairwoman' this whole time, and now I end up actually being a chairwoman for a campaign and I worry that I don't know what I'm doing. I have this title and people are writing about me in the New York Times. What if I can't raise the money? What if I can't do it?" And he said, "You'll know exactly what to do. And if you don't, you'll figure it out." Penny Pritzker, Obama's national finance chair, tapped me for the position. When I told her, "I'm not at that level — I just want to do what I want to do at my level," she convinced me. She said, "You can do this." In the end, there were five of us working together — four men and myself — and we split up the state.
Throughout the campaign, my focus and my goal were to make sure that the people doing the grassroots work and the people doing the finance work actually worked together, something that doesn't usually happen. Historically, the people in finance are the big boys and girls, and the grassroots folks are "little college students." We didn't play it that way. Each person was extremely important, and I would remind the donors that our college student volunteers were out there sleeping in their cars and then getting up the next morning to knock on doors. There was a momentum that I can't begin to describe. We just knew we were on to something. For me it wasn't about whether we won. Of course, I'm so happy that we won, but I know that even if we hadn't, this campaign would still have been remembered as the best-run campaign in modern politics.
The experience of being so involved in the election was both intensely wonderful and challenging. When it was bad, it was bad. I mean, there were times when we were so low. There were many people who looked at me and said, "You know he's going to lose, and you're going down with him. He doesn't have a chance, and you're going to look stupid. You're wasting your time." I remember one woman said to me, "You're wasting your family's good name on this man who can't win." The more comments like this would hurt me and shock me, however, the more energy I'd get to move forward and the harder I'd fight — especially because our candidate was a black man. I would get so mad, particularly at black men, and ask, "Why are you cutting this man down? If you don't think he should be president, don't vote for him. But don't sit there and get on every news channel and trash him." I hated seeing other people, especially other black people, go against him. I believe in being for people and not against them. So while I was for Obama, I was never against Hillary Clinton. I wished her the best the whole time and then supported her afterward, when she needed it most.
For me, the game changer, in terms of the campaign, was when Obama gave his "Race Speech." I remember calling one of my best friends, Charles Rivkin, my cochair at the time and now the U.S. ambassador to France. I said to him, "Charlie, people will see who they're voting for when he opens his mouth today." Obama hadn't said a word yet, but I just knew he was going to give a heavy speech, and I knew by the time he was done, people would see the core of him. People who were on the fence would see a top-quality man. I knew that if he was to be taken down over this issue, he would go down truthfully and emerge as a winner spiritually. I knew this speech would change everything because now everybody around the world would have the opportunity to see the Obama I knew.
When the campaign was over, I was able to look at myself in the mirror and, for the first time since we started, say, "You know what? Well done." It was a long, hard two and a half years. When I started out, I had to beg people for even five hundred dollars. I had to sell and sell and sell, to the point that I lost my voice. I was most proud that we were a team, Team California: Charles Rivkin, John Roos (current U.S. ambassador to Japan), Jeff Bleich (current U.S. ambassador to Australia), Tony West (now an assistant attorney general in the Department of Justice), and I. We were a team and we helped one another the whole time. None of us took credit on our own. I was most proud of that. We did it together. We stuck to it and we never let up, not even once.
I met my husband, Ted Sarandos, during the campaign, and we began then what has been a great relationship. After the election, I was very excited to be able to sit down for a while and enjoy married life. I remember people asking, "Don't you want to go to Washington?" My immediate response was "Absolutely not. I don't want to be in government at all." And at the time, I really didn't. Then I got asked if I'd like to be an ambassador. I remember the first time the question came up. I laughed and said, "For what? I'm not even … I mean, I'm forty-one, not sixty-one! I have a life in California." People kept telling me, "You should be a part of this." I stuck to my guns until everyone started moving to Washington to take on positions in the new administration. To me, that was when things shifted in my head. All of a sudden, it felt like a very bad divorce. It felt like everyone I knew was busy, that we were no longer talking, that I was no longer part of a team. Then my friend Charlie called and set me straight: "Nicole, to be asked to represent the president of the United States and to say no is crazy. I think you're not thinking straight." I said, "Charlie, I'm tired. It's not something I want to do." He said, "It's not about that." Finally my husband chimed in and said, "Nicole, he's the first black president of the United States of America. He wants you to be a diplomat, and you're going to say no? I know you well enough to say you're going to regret it. One day you're going to look back and you're going to regret not having done it." That's when I started thinking about the impact of this one man. For me, it had honestly been enough to help get him into the White House, but then I started looking at his presidency from a historical perspective: This is the first black man to be the leader of the free world. I have a chance to be a part of this amazing chapter in history and to represent him somewhere in the world. I knew it would be challenging, and I knew it would be stressful on my family and my new husband, but I knew it was an unbelievable opportunity.
I was sworn in by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton on September 9, 2009, in Washington, D.C. I'm the first African American female and the second woman ambassador to the Bahamas, and definitely the youngest by far. In fact, I'm one of the youngest women ever to be a U.S. ambassador. In October 2009, Ted and I chartered a plane and touched down in the Bahamas. There was a small crowd lined up to greet me. I looked at my husband, stood up, and went into "Okay, act as if you've done this before" mode. I walked off that plane and was met by the regional security officer, who said, "I'm going to introduce you to your bodyguards. I'm going to introduce you to your driver. You'll never go anywhere on the islands by yourself. You'll never drive a car. You'll never do this. You'll never do that." I remember thinking, "Oh my God, what have I signed up for?" It's been challenging getting used to this new life, but what has gotten me through every day is the fact that I'm representing the first black president of the United States. I'm his personal representative in a tiny part of the world, but I'm his personal representative, and that's a big deal.
My role as ambassador is multifaceted. I make sure that the interests of the United States are upheld in the Bahamas and that the policies the State Department and President Obama want to put forth are enacted. Fortunately, the United States has an excellent relationship with the Bahamas. Our two countries think so much alike that our disagreements are few and usually easily resolved. As an ambassador, I'm also responsible for the safety and well-being of any American citizens living, doing business, or vacationing in the Bahamas. I work closely with the Coast Guard, the U.S. Marines, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Customs and Border Protection, and the Drug Enforcement Administration. We have the fifth-largest DEA office in the world, which is a big deal. When President Obama asked me what has surprised me most about my job, I said, "Who knew I would end up loving law enforcement? It's fantastic!" I have such respect for people in law enforcement and for what they do. I don't think most of us realize the amount of time and resources that go into our safety. Because the Bahamas is only fifty-three miles away from Florida, it acts as a third border, and the country is a very, very important partner to the United States, a fact most people overlook.
One of the most gratifying aspects of my job is the letters I receive from parents. One mother wrote to me, "My daughter has never watched the news before, but now that she knows you're going to be on, she wants to hear what you're talking about. Well, she actually wants to see what you're wearing, but she always ends up listening to what you're talking about! She sees that she could be something great." I remember another woman who came up to me in a store and said, "It's just your image. You don't understand. You don't have to say a word. It's just the fact that you're black and female and in a very powerful role. That speaks volumes to young girls but also to young boys."
When young people ask me about my journey and for advice, I tell them to stay open to the divine. I tell them I didn't strive to be an ambassador, which doesn't mean I wasn't supposed to become one. What it means is that I had to stay open to the divine plan for my life, because one never knows what the future holds. The key is to get yourself into a situation in which you're part of something that's inspiring and motivating to you — and helpful to others. Do what it is that you love doing, but understand that you'll never know for sure where it's going to take you. I tell people I was President Obama's ambassador to Los Angeles. Although I didn't have a title then, I represented him there, too. There's the conventional way to become an ambassador and there's the unconventional way, but in any case, you're going to have to surround yourself with the people who are going to get you there. Start at whatever level you can, and don't think you're too big for whatever it is. There are a lot of people who began in the grass roots, who were not paid a dime for what they did, who are now working in Washington, D.C. They were committed, they were focused, they were driven.
I'm passionate about living life with a purpose. I want to be excited and inspired by what I'm doing. I love the idea of learning how to live my best life, about developing habits I want to continue and being aware of the things I need to drop. I'm very passionate about education, which is a focus in my role as ambassador. When I'm finished in the Bahamas, I'm sure I'll go back into education, because it saddens me that people are throwing away their lives by not recognizing the importance of quality schooling. Young people end up hating themselves and life and hurting others in the process. It's a vicious circle and a terrible crisis.
One of my biggest inspirations has always been Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I read through the book A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. over and over. My parents also inspire me, as do people who, like them, are passionate, authentic, and unconditionally kind. I think there's a big difference between being nice and being kind. Whereas "nice" is variable — you can be nice one day and not nice the next — "kindness" is a constant. Every person I've ever really been inspired by has been authentic. Take, for example, Muhammad Ali. I love that he is who he is. Over the years, he's made people angry sometimes, but he's remained true to himself, and now everyone loves him for it. Quincy Jones inspires me. I remember spending a lot of time with him and being struck by his talent and passion for what he does. I'm inspired by my husband's creativity, and I'm fascinated by his open mind. I love people with great ideas and the chutzpah to see them through despite what anyone else thinks.
I feel so lucky to have a partner in life and a husband who supports me 100 percent. I wouldn't have been able to take on this job and do it the way I've been doing it without him. There are a lot of men who would have said no. But Ted's not one of them. Here he is, trying to run a major U.S. company, and he gets on a plane every other week to be with me. Having his support and having his love is a huge part of what makes my life great. When it comes to my job, I'm so grateful that I said yes to the opportunity. Most people will never get to meet President Obama, and none of us will ever get to meet the millions of African Americans who came before us, people who for hundreds of years worked so hard and helped build America. They prayed and did the right thing. They focused on education and helped others to succeed. They marched for their civil rights and the rights of others and sat in. And while all of this was happening, these men and women were being terrorized on a daily basis. The most important thing to me is that I haven't let my life go to waste. I've said yes because I felt a responsibility to do so. I've been responsible with my life and feel blessed as a result.
