Our Time PressThe Local Paper with the Global View

I went to the Millions More Movement because I wanted to be reenergized.  A long time activist, I was stagnant and had stopped doing the things I was used to doing: calling my representatives in Congress, petitioning various agencies on behalf of causes important to me, and I still hadn’t managed to move the Saturday school that my nonprofit organization, I Am The Light Of The World, Inc., had been planning to reopen off the drawing board.  And so I hopped on a bus on Friday, October 14, hoping that standing side by side with my brothers and sisters would propel me to continue.  I was on the verge of giving up but I wanted to be saved so I could carry out my plans to help save the world!  However, when I arrived at the Washington Mall on Saturday, I realized that I would have to save myself.
The energy on the Mall was so low that it was almost nonexistent.  People rested comfortably in portable lounge chairs and I certainly couldn’t fault them for that since my sister, Cheryl, and I had spent considerable time finding the perfect lightweight chair for the event.  Still, I was disappointed because the scene looked and felt more like a huge outdoor gathering at a picnic or concert than the prelude to a movement that would transform the African- American community nationally and spread across borders to touch millions more worldwide.  My sister and I settled in briefly where we first arrived but after despairing about the lack of energy, we decided that we would be the energy, or at least, we would go find some.  So we picked up our chair and began the hunt.
We didn’t find it.  We found wonderful memorabilia.  I purchased several buttons and an official baseball cap and Cheryl bought a poster.  It was refreshing to see that men outnumbered women because usually it’s the other way around.  To us, the brothers were signifying their desire to be a part of a great shift in our community.  But we never found the energy we were seeking until introduced her father.  A dynamic speaker, got people standing and cheering as the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan, looking  the very picture of power, strode forcefully to the podium.  He had us on our feet for a while but as his speech wore on (I had heard most of it already on Like It Is), people reverted to laid-back mode, chilling in their lounge chairs or on the grass.  As Minister Farrakhan spoke, people rose to their feet once again  – this time to leave.  By the time he had finished, my sister and I were the only ones left in the area where we had been sitting.  Everyone else had packed up and gone, perhaps to buses that had a scheduled departure time. 
Surveying the landscape with hundreds of people streaming out of the Mall, my sister and I talked about what else had gone missing throughout the day, other than the life-transforming energy with which we had expected to connect.  The event was well- organized.  You could hear and see the speakers almost anywhere on the Mall, however, I had come to be organized.  To join the movement.  To stand with my people.  But there wasn’t any organizing going on.  I had expected that we would be asked to sign up for something, that someone would collect our contact information with a promise to reach out to us.   Instead, Minister Farrakhan told us that to join the Movement we had to go to the Movement’s Web site and register after paying a $25 registration fee and then he requested a donation.  We were astonished.  First of all, not everyone has access to the Internet.  Further, anyone who has ever done sales knows that it’s up to you to close the deal, to ask for the signature to request a down payment on the spot, not some time in the future.  The time to get people to sign up was now, we concluded, not when they had returned to their busy, complicated lives.  And what was up with the $25 fee to register?  Would people be willing to pay that?  Did they have the means?
On the way out of the Mall, Cheryl  and I ran into three people we had met on the way to the Movement and we asked them how they felt about the day.  They, too, expressed surprise at the lack of energy, but at least one person disagreed about what Cheryl and I had felt was poor organizing.  He thought that people needed to show their commitment to the Movement by going online.  We shouldn’t expect to be spoon-fed, he said.  It was up to us to take action.  The group was skeptical about whether people would pay the registration fee.  But at least one of us decided to take that step: me.  I had come to the Movement to be re-energized to do the work that it will take to heal Africa-America and African people worldwide.  But I had known all along that the success of the Millions More Movement depends on what I can bring to it, rather than on what it can give me.  I’m in it for the long haul, because a long-term commitment on the part of all of us still standing is what it will take to restore, rebuild and repair our communities and ultimately the world.

For more than half a century, Dorothy Height’s leadership has advanced the liberation struggleof black women. She has indeed carried out the dream of her friend and mentor, Mary McLeod Bethune, to leave no one behind.
November 7, 1937, Mary McLeod Bethune, the founder and president of the National Council of Negro Women, noticed the assistant director of the Harlem YWCA as she escorted Eleanor Roosevelt into an NCNW meeting. When Bethune approached Height asking for help in advancing women’s rights, she eagerly accepted a volunteer position. In doing so, she began her dual role with the YWCA and the NCNW, integrating her background as a social worker and educator and her experiences as an international youth and women’s advocate with her commitment to rising above the limitations of race and sex. She began forging bonds between women across race and class in her travels and studies in Africa, Asia, Europe, and Latin America and reaffirmed her conviction that making international connections to women would only strengthen her movement work.
Height quickly rose through the ranks of the YWCA, working on programs and policies that pushed them toward more progressive attitudes concerning black women. The organization’s full commitment to integration owes much to her work. Her career as a civil rights advocate blossomed, and in 1947, she was elected national president of the Delta Sigma Theta Sorority. As with the YWCA and the NCNW, she carried them to another level, moving the sorority into a new era of activism on the national and international scenes. So naturally, her subsequent appointment as the president of the National Council of Negro Women in 1957 made perfect sense. She worked closely with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Roy Wilkins, Whitney Young, A. Phillip Randolph and others, participating in almost every major civil and human rights event in the 1960’s. Height worked simultaneously for all three organizations, retiring from the YWCA in 1977 and from the NCNW in 1998.
Perhaps her most important work was as president of the NCNW, where she led a crusade for justice for black women and worked to strengthen the black family. She developed several national and community-based programs, placing special emphasis on drawing young people in, and established the Bethune Museum and Archives for Black Women, the first institution devoted to black women’s history. “Black women,” says Height, “are the backbone of every institution.”
 She has received innumerable awards for her tireless efforts, including the Citizens Medal Award from President Ronald Reagan in 1989 and the Medal of Freedom from President Bill Clinton in 1994. In continuing the NCNW’s mission “to advance opportunities and the quality of life for African-American women, their families, and communities, ” Dorothy Height has provided a critical voice in articulating the needs and aspirations of women of African descent around the world.

By Aminisha Black
Reclaiming Relationships
With Our Children
Sankofa is an Akan word that means, “We must go back and reclaim our past so we can move forward”. In Africa, where the highest-held value is relationships, families and community share and reinforce values.  Intergenerational activities provide practical mentoring for children.  While numbers of Africans come to America today, they maintain their family ties and responsibilities in Africa that have been passed down for generations.   Like other immigrants, they form communities and start businesses, meeting the needs of their community.   Regardless of their personal agendas, the ties to family and their extended community remain intact.   Their navigation on foreign soil in unity attests to the power of the value system. 
In contrast, America’s highest-held value of material acquisition has fostered individualism, competitiveness, divisions and conflict.  America’s value system has impacted generations and our youth become more of an endangered species.  Today, descendants of African slaves and victims of ongoing racism are being killed, or at best, psychologically and physically maimed on foreign soil as members of America’s oppressive military force.  We parents must ask ourselves a serious question – What values are we teaching our children?  Another way of phrasing the question is – What values are we living?
Beginning with the end in sight –  We hold a vision for a world where humans are valued and coexist in harmonious, productive relationships; where individuals are nurtured, supported in discovering and developing their innate talents and are acknowledged for their contributions in sustaining the community. 
Where we are – We’re on the train of tyranny fueled by the insatiable need to exploit, dominate and control for material acquisition. America’s institutions are in place to perpetuate the values that reap profit for the few at the expense of masses.
About Values – A simple formula for detecting the values of an individual or an organization – watch what they do.  People will say anything but they always do their values.
Changing the course – In order to produce different results, we must do things differently.  If our families become nurturing environments, our children won’t settle for less, laying new track for the train.
Following are some characteristics to cultivate for nurturing relationships.
Authenticity/Honesty – We’re programmed to live lies – we learn to adopt images to impress others. Children have mastered the art of knowing their parents.  Trust is the basis of a relationship.  If your child knows that you lie (about anything), trust is diminished.   Practice being genuine, courageous enough to tell the truth about you.
Interdependence – We’re sold on individualism  (I don’t need anyone) because it sells more products, yielding more profit.   The more we include others, the easier our work becomes and the benefits come to us instead of to corporations.  Practice interdependence with home projects.  You can start with household maintenance, each member playing a role in producing a well-run household.  Building in a periodic family meetings and ritual for acknowledgments (special meal or event) will help sell the idea. 
Humility – This culture promotes competition – a preoccupation with our own importance.  Practice appreciating others starting with your child by finding her strengths and acknowledging them.
Empathy – In a climate of competition and individualism, we don’t know who others are or their experiences. Focusing only on our needs and wants, we often clash or run roughshod over others.   Practice listening to your child’s feelings, without passing judgment or giving advice.  
Forgiveness – In this culture individuals are condemned for mistakes.  Practice teaching appropriate behavior and prompt forgiveness.  Give your child the experience of transforming behavior.
Confidentiality – This culture promotes gossip about others, usually negative.  Practice eliminating conversations about people who are not present.  Confidence is earned in the absence of gossip.  Earn your child’s confidence.
Balancing Time – We are programmed to seek gratification outside the home.  We work long hours to earn money so we can buy more things.  Block out a period of time that will be devoted to family.  Our children will know they’re valued by our interaction with them.  Practice finding at least one activity that you do together. 
These practices won’t be publicized on TV commercials. However, when we change our practice, we will transform our families. Transformed families will recreate old definitions of success that will honor human relationship over human obliteration.  We will have honored our responsibility to our young and our ancestors.
Please send comments to parentsnotebook@yahoo.com.

Cold rain fell for nine days straight throughout the northeast and mid-Atlantic States, in October.  Then on the 10th day, October 15,  the sun beamed and, later that evening, the moon loomed bold and large, unobscured by the mists of the previous evenings. 
“It had to rain like that,” said artist -photographer Barry L. Mason, standing on the Mall after the events had ended.  “It was God’s libation for the Millions More Movement.”
In the days just after the Movement, there were some who would try to rain on its parade by forcing comparisons to the Million Man March.  But those constantly fueled by “the fire inside” and the “leader within” – like broadcaster Jacque Reid, Atlanta attorney Maluwi, national activist Eddie Ellis   and Brooklyn College student Sharron Delafa Paul, among others – got the message of the Movement. In the words of Ms. Reid, “It starts with each individual doing something to make a difference.”
Jacque Reid, Broadcaster
I am glad to be here and to hear Farrakhan talking about the need for solutions (to our problems) and calling  to be more proactive.  I hope that people are inspired.  We should not have to wait for an organization  to call a march in order to feel motivated to do something and make a change.   The question is what is each of us going to do when we are back at home?
Emlyn Paul, Photographer
The Million Man March was the greatest experience of my life.  But today the response – despite the threat of the weather in previous days – is overwhelming. I came here with my daughter, and she is going home with information she never could get anywhere else in one place, like this . There were enough leaders from different areas to tell us what’s going on around the country, so that people are going home with good ideas to do something where they live.
Sharron Delafa Paul, College Student
I am 19, a sophomore majoring in psychology at Brooklyn College, and I have learned a lot today.  I had no idea about the new laws cast by the Supreme Court that will allow a white prosecutor to  take black jurors off a case against a black defendant.  And it was fantastic seeing this many black people in this place at one time.

Mawuli Mel Davis, Attorney
I brought my two sons, ages 5 and 7, with me and  a busload of young people from Clark-Atlanta, Spelman and Morehouse.  It’s important that we are here.  Anytime we are called to come together and be united to work to work together as a collective, we have to be there.  It’s a critical time in our history. We are going to back to Atlanta to do the work and continue to build.  The next steps are to sit down and discuss what we want to do and how we should do it. We must pass on the spirit of struggle to each generation. It’s not something we’re born with; we have to engage the young people so they can see that we should be here, and we are doing this.  There will be time when my sons will have to step up.  To help make that happen, we must engage the young people. I want my sons to bring their children.
Eddie Ellis, Activist
The idea of putting together a national movement speaks to the problems of African people in America and is enough for all of these people who are here to come,  to listen and to take back to others.  The Million Man March was focused on the individual, individual atonement, individual’s accepting responsibility  for themselves, their families and their communities. The Movement is focused on community, regional and national organizations. And a call for a unified approach to the solving of problems that affect people of African descent.

By Royal Shariyf
The first thing striking about Lee Lord is he does not resemble the appearance of a man almost seventy-three years old. Not merely by how youthful he looks. But his avid passion and talent for digital media technology, his seeming fluidity to fresh ideas and quaking change all portray perhaps a younger person.
“Everything has a name, but I don’t think you can put a name on everything, “he explains in Zen-like fashion.  “And I can’t put a name on myself.” He would clearly prefer certain things: less dogma and labeling, and much more substance, content and inclusiveness in this world.
Born in Brooklyn, at Kings County Hospital, on Dec 28, 1932, Lee Lord was christened “Eustace Leonidas” (Greek for “lion like” and “lionhearted”) by his father, the late F. Levi Lord. I began using my shortened middle name just for convenience of other people.”
His father, a former school teacher in his native Barbados, once served as a stenographer for Marcus Garvey and in other capacities within the UNIA leadership. His activities as a businessman and in civic affairs for many years were well known also because he co-founded a key financial institution known as Paragon Credit Union. He was a type bookkeeper for the New York City Comptroller, a remarkable achievement for a Black man of his era.
Lee Lord was the forth of five children, two of whom have passed. There was Barbara, Phyllis, and Elsie; and his younger brother, Dr. Clyde Lord, a retired physician, is now living in Atlanta.
As a teen, in 1947, Lord vividly recalls when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier and joined the Brooklyn Dodgers. “It so impacted on my life. I and others formed a baseball team called the Brooklyn Cobras. We became heroes of the community. We were the first Black group to be able to play at the (Prospect Park) Parade Grounds in Brooklyn. In 1949 we won the first championship out there.” Tommy Davis, a fellow Cobra, became a Brooklyn Dodger himself.
When the Parade Grounds were rededicated in 2004, Mr. Lord on behalf of the Cobras was voted in the Brooklyn Hall of Fame and was presented a plaque by Brooklyn Borough President, Marty Markowitz. “We didn’t think so much of it then,” he reflects.
Mr. Lord considered himself very fortunate growing up. On Sundays, in the family parlor he enjoyed jazz and symphonic music, the luxury of oil painting and creative writing, but had no defined aspirations
“The West Indian culture was very firm in having their children learn a trade,” Lord explains. “Back in the West Indies my father learned the shoemaker’s trade, but he was a school teacher. But when he came here, he could not get a job as a schoolteacher. He could not even take the test (because of racism). Instead, he had to work at his trade until he took a test and landed that job with the city — which is very similar to my own experience.”
As a young child, Lee Lord sometimes sold newspapers and carried packages at the local Bohack supermarket and A&P. But he distinctly recalls the day he told his father of his intention to shine shoes, a common activity on street-corners then. “I was building my shoebox. In those days, kids were building fancy shoeboxes to shine shoes. He looked at me and said, ‘You can’t shine shoes. I will never let my boy kneel and shine shoes of any white man.’ He was steadfast in that because he envisioned that as one of the less honorable things we can do.”
Lord’s father recounted the story of their family doctor, Dr. Batson, a fellow Caribbean, who served his internship shining shoes at Penn Station because he couldn’t get a job in a hospital.
“My father took me to his friend’s print shop on Fulton Street and told him he wanted me to be taught the printing trade. I remember standing there and telling my father, no, I did not want to be a printer. My father said, ‘I don’t care what you want to be. But if you never get to be what you want to be, you will not be a leech on society.’ This gentleman who was a master printer in Barbados ran a newspaper there and yet came to this country and could not get a job because of his color. When he went to apply they tried to put a broom in his hand.”
It was November, 1943. Lee Lord was 11 years old. On that same day, Lord became an apprentice. “I went Monday through Friday from 4 – 7 pm and on Saturday from 9-4. I learned how to set type, do mock ups, feed the press- everything. I will never forget, the first week I made seven dollars and ran home and gave my mother five. I was now contributing to the household. You don’t know how good that made me feel. ”
Lord remained with the printer until he was called to military service in 1952, yet the dividends of his forced apprenticeship would continue throughout his life. He received a “by-pass specialist” waiver that allowed him direct assignment to the printing division at Scotts Air Force base in Illinois. Later, he spent two memorable years in Tokyo in the Pacific Stars and Stripes unit where he enjoyed “plush accommodations.” “We had the best food and separate rooms. No, it was not bad all!”
“Everybody becomes who they are supposed to be,” Lord advises. He would not change a single thing about his life, especially being husband to Doeltha, his wife of 47 years. (“I noticed her, and so did everybody else!”) He would still fully support his daughter’s decision, too. In 1991, she quit her cushy job with an investment bank to become a standup comic. “It was her destiny,” he observes with a smile. (Today, Leighann Lord is a successful comedian.) Lord also has two sons: Wayne and Bryan, and several grandchildren.
After his discharge, Lord was denied entry into the printers union. However, a major city agency held an open exam for a printer. Lord zipped through the written and practical in half the allotted time and ranked number one. That feat granted him the job. Eight years later, he was elevated to supervisor of the entire printing operation of the NYC Fire Department where he retired. He is a member of the Honorary Association of Fire Chiefs.
“I am standing on so many strong shoulders. Our parents and grandparents had to scratch heads, shuffle and do whatever they had to do to get through a deeply racist society. My father said, ‘Listen to everybody. No man is beneath you and no man is above you.’
I just hope I have made a positive difference.