The Depth Of Dorothy Height

By Michel Martin

I was on my way into the office when I heard the sad news that Dorothy Height had died.

I won’t lie to you; I always knew she was “important.” I knew she was always in all the pictures of the big figures in the civil rights movement — the big six as it were. And I had enjoyed the Black Family Reunion, a get together held every year on the National Mall, and had even helped a friend of mine stuff envelopes for an event that my friend was helping Height’s organization, the National Council of Negro Women (NCNW), put on. I knew that the building that houses the NCNW was the first building owned by African Americans on Pennsylvania Avenue, a building which the organization now owns free and clear and which is on the National Historic Register.

But it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I actually understood what it was that she actually did and had done, and this because my friend Sabrina, gave me a copy of her memoir Open Wide the Freedom Gates.

Think about this: after the passage of the Civil Rights Act, at the height of the civil rights movement, she helped organize teams of women of different races and faiths to get together on Wednesdays in Mississippi to help facilitate communication. Now that sounds quaint and PC, doesn’t it? But think about a time when few women earned their own pay, when people were literally being killed for organizing interracial get-togethers, when many people would refuse to serve food to such a group or allow such a group to meet.

When you put it that way, and think about the fact that Dorothy Height was talking about things like the relationship between opportunity for women and for minorities at a time when talking about women’s rights was thought to have been a strategy to actually STOP the civil rights bill (true story), then you get a sense of what she was up against and did. And that was just one project.

She was such an elegant lady. And that’s another thing that sounds very quaint and PC. But think about her being elegant and insisting on elegance at a time when many people thought it beneath them to address a black woman as Miss or Mrs. I am thinking about a passage in the memoir of Amb Swanee Hunt, one of oil magnate Howard Hunt’s 10 children, where she describes being literally screamed at by one of her aunts when the aunt overheard her addressing her black nanny as “Ma’am.”

 

Quiet courage. A small step taken every day. She was still working until she went into the hospital in March. During the presidential campaign she was one of the organizers of a weekly conference call of African-American activists of both political parties who kept in touch with each other to be sure that the interests of African-Americans were kept present and that lines of communication remained open. And we had a chance to visit with her a day or so after the election.

Read the memoir if you have time. I am glad I did.

Booking and Meeting a Civil Rights Legend

Jennifer Longmire-Wright, here.
 
I’m a producer on Tell Me More and I wanted you to know what it was like to book a civil rights legend for a segment of the program — and then meet her.

I was especially interested in what the election of President Barack Obama meant to those who were at the forefront of the civil rights struggle.  Wasn't this the culmination of their decades-long work?  Did they think that they would live to see this historical moment?   But in reality, they didn't think their work was done just because an African-American was elected president.  

Right after the election in November 2008, we headed over to the office of Dorothy Height for an answer. She was a civil rights leader, a trailblazer, a champion of human rights. She spent more than seven decades fighting for the equality of all people, and she did it in an effective and gracious way.

Dr. Height was a bridge-builder who understood that we all had something to gain from coming together. She said in the Tell Me More interview that she hoped that young people of today would see that they were the recipients of what many worked for — and some gave their lives for – and to not forget that. She also said that there is strength in numbers.  It's okay to ask for help.

As a former president of my high school's Black Student Union, I remember studying Height's legacy and leadership achievements, and how she was able to bring all people together to work towards a common goal. She didn’t exclude anyone because she believed that all could make a difference.  I largely became interested in social justice and human rights because of Dr. Height, and I was so honored and blessed to be able to book this interview for Tell Me More.

Rest in power and peace, Dr. Dorothy Height. 

Dorothy Height Was A Lady

Teshima Walker, here.

(Thanks to TMM producer Lee Hill for recovering the photo above.)

When we visited with civil rights pioneer Dorothy Height I remember that her office was beautifully decorated and hot.  She had pictures and plaques.  Her space was colorful, particularly noticeable was red – one of the key colors of her beloved sorority, Delta Sigma Theta (she served as the organization's 10th national president). She had a blanket covering her legs and ankles.

Meanwhile, I was sweating. I chose to wear a blue denim suit (lycra was involved). It's one of my favorites: the skirt has three pleats at the tail; and I wore a lapel pin with freedom fighter Sojourner Truth's face on it. I also put on red lipstick. It makes my lips itch, twitch and burn but I sucked it up. I wanted Dr. Height to know that I took care to meet her that day.  

She always let it be known that she took care of her appearance and this day would not be any different. She was regal in her beautiful purple suit, and of course a matching chapeau. Always dignified, always a lady.  

“Lady.” Now that’s a tag not always affixed to Black women (though they have routinely been called a number of other things). A lady is refined, polite and well-spoken. A woman is an adult female person. Read my difference and remember this is my distinction, only.  

Dr. Height stood in the room with former President John F. Kennedy when he signed the Equal Pay Act. She worked with several presidents and first ladies to help them understand the plight of the working poor and underserved. She made service seem natural and even effortless. And she was loving as she did it.

She was a lady.