Fail Up

by Tavis Smiley

  All over the world and in ghettos and barrios across America, hunger, poverty, and unemployment are just a few of our shared plights. There is unimaginable opportunity for visionaries to address these issues, empower the poor, and change our world for the better.

  As a child, Majora Carter spent a lot of time daydreaming about how she could change her world for the better—by escaping from the South Bronx ghettos. Education was her ticket—first to Wesley University where she studied cinema and film production, then to grad school at New York University. Money woes brought her back to the Bronx, back to her parents’ house, and, amazingly, back to a community she learned to love.

  In the South Bronx, she discovered a need and a role for herself that would address that need. Carter told CNN in 2008 that she saw an underserved, ignored, and literally dumped-on neighborhood—her neighborhood in need of support and redirection.

  “People wanted things like clean air; they wanted safe places for their kids to play where they wouldn’t get hit by a truck. They wanted living-wage jobs that didn’t degrade the environment or kill them,” Carter pointed out.

  In 1997, Carter helped secure a $10,000 government grant for the development and restoration of Hunts Point Riverside Park in the South Bronx. Over a five-year period, in collaboration with other community groups and public agencies, Carter helped leverage more than $3 million to rebuild the park.

  That event was just the beginning of a career highlighted by the development of an 11-mile-long South Bronx waterfront, an urban green-collar training program for the formerly incarcerated, urban forestry, green roof installation, community garden projects, and other efforts that are too numerous to list. In 2008, a writer for The New York Times dubbed Carter “The Green Power Broker” and “one of the city’s best-known advocates for environmental justice.”

  Carter is a visionary who recognized the people’s need. She developed a company, Sustainable South Bronx, and set out to aggressively address similar needs far beyond the Bronx, across the United States, and around the globe.

  It all began by discovering her passion and then defining the role she was meant to play.

  When “Need” Meets “Passion” …

  Watch Out!

  As an entrepreneur, I encourage people, especially young people, not to go looking for a job. I tell kids to take the word “job” out of their vocabulary: “As gifted, skilled, and talented as you are, I want you to discover your calling, find your purpose, and take action.”

  Our troubled world needs visionaries. Money is important, I know that. But the sole pursuit of money can lead to an empty life. Find that vocation, that calling, that purpose you are uniquely suited for—become the best at it, and I sincerely believe you will get paid.

  Dr. King, quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson, put it this way: “If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mousetrap than his neighbor, though he build his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door.” My refrain on Dr. King’s advice is: Build that mousetrap better than anybody else, and Wal-Mart will find you!

  The point is not really about mousetraps or making money. It’s about perfecting the gift and addressing the need. When you perfect the gift, the need becomes apparent. If you are passionately driven to serve children and perfect a unique way to serve them, there is a place for you in abandoned communities throughout this country.

  We can best give people what they want (and what they need) when we are authentic. If we are true to who we are, our gift will make room for itself. It will expand and open up opportunities for you to do more and to help more people.

  In our fast-paced, superficial society, it’s hard to get centered. It’s difficult for us to get comfortable with our true gifts. Often, as we try to keep up with the pace of the world, we attempt ten million things and never discover our true vocation, our true purpose.

  The challenge is to find ways to mute the noise and hone in with laser-like precision on who you truly are.

  I believe that we are all here for a reason. We are charged to discover our unique gift and use it to make sure that this earth is in a little better condition on the day we exit than it was on the day we entered. We begin that journey of discovery with simple questions: What burdens your soul? If seeing homeless people causes you to break down and cry, find a way to lift that burden. Let your soul burden point you to your calling—define your passion and audaciously set out to make a difference in people’s lives.

  When my “need” met my “passion,” things seemed to flower and flourish for me. Outside of my ill-advised T-shirt venture, I’ve learned to cultivate my gifts and think long and hard before I change lanes. Yes, I continue to pursue countless interests—that’s how I’m hardwired—I appear on radio and TV, write books, and operate communication and advocacy enterprises. However, none of these activities falls outside of my core gifts. They are all vertically integrated pillars of my passion.

  Here’s the bottom line: You can’t give the people what they want until you know what you really want, and you have to be as passionate about both your vision and its manifestation.

  In 2011, I am celebrating 20 years in broadcasting because I had no other choice.

  So avoid potholes on the road of life, such as what other people think you should do, or even what might seem like the most prudent thing to do. Be still, get clarity, and always be loyal to what you love.

  CHAPTER 13

  THE DIVERSITY

  IMPERATIVE

  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., is the greatest American our nation has ever produced. I’ve said this many times and stand by that statement. Love was his only weapon. With it, he transformed a nation, transformed the world, and helped transform a poor, Black kid struggling to find his identity in the overwhelmingly white world of Kokomo, Indiana.

  Before Dr. King influenced my life, Muhammad Ali helped me to cope. Giving white kids a verbal beat-down, like Ali, was my way of reconciling my race- and class-based insecurities.

  When I was about 12, a deacon at my church decided to introduce me to this servant-leader via recorded speeches.

  Ali’s physical and verbal attributes captivated me, but Dr. King’s unwavering commitment to the struggle of Black folk converted me to his cause. I interpreted his words about the Black/white divide in America as a reflection of my Black/white experiences in Indiana. I wanted to be like Dr. King; I wanted to be courageous and change the world. I clung to Ali, but with Dr. King as extra motivation, my beat-downs were now presented with a self-righteous justification.

  I was mistaken.

  Much later in life, I realized that my view was myopic. Dr. King’s passionate words touched my heart, but my soul had yet to fully comprehend the fact that he was inspired by men whose skin color or culture did not match ours.

  His influences included the clergyman Walter Rauschenbusch, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, and Mahatma Gandhi. His beliefs were cemented in the concepts of the Social Gospel, nonviolence, and human rights for the downtrodden. Dr. King came to operate under the umbrella of three basic principles, essentially:

  Justice for all Service to others Love that liberates

  We now live in the most multicultural, multiracial, multiethnic America ever, but evidence abounds that we are retreating from Dr. King’s principles. Instead of making progress on the racial front, we’re backsliding, becoming less tolerant, further entrenched in paranoid nativism, and more stubbornly embedded in class, race, and political divisions. Never mind that there’s a Black man in the White House.

  If this country is to truly thrive, it must honor its constitutional tenets of freedom and justice for all—regardless of skin color or class differences. In a globally connected, competitive world, it must shun its narcissistic tendency to stomp on the least of us.

  Diversity is more than a hopeful goal; it is an imperative. This was the true message I had to absorb if I really planned to walk in the footsteps of America’s King.

  N
ot Just Black People

  In college, as the solo Black member of Indiana University’s debate team, my ongoing goal was to dominate through convincing, well-articulated, and passionate presentations. I made sure my arguments floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee; and—just like the famed, Atlanta-born, Baptist minister, I did my best to mesmerize my audiences.

  My debate coach—white, conservative, and a solid supporter of Reaganomics—took a personal interest in me. One day, we became engaged in a deep conversation while on a long bus ride back to campus after a tournament. We hit on the hot button topics of politics, religion, and race. Her positions were conservative in nature while mine, of course, reflected Black, progressive liberalism. As our conversation came to an end, my coach offered these words of advice:

  “You know, Tavis, it would be a mistake to limit yourself to the struggles of just Black people. It could be your starting point, like your hero Dr. King, but your message has the potential to be far more universal.”

  Ironically, Mayor Allison, with whom I interned, said something similar to me during a moment of course correction. “You have so much to offer the American people, not just Black people,” she affirmed.

  The words of both of these white women came through loud and clear, but I had to wrestle with their meanings. Both had proven themselves to be my supporters with my best interests at heart, but in my youth, I wasn’t exactly sure how to process what they were saying to me. Was this a dis of my people or a diminishment of my love for them? Had I been cut and just didn’t know it? Then again, perhaps I was simply too young and underexposed to the true depth of Dr. King to absorb the full meaning of their message.

  My philosophical, social, and cultural evolution came after I left Indiana.

  Race and Power

  In his 1993 book, Politics in Black and White: Race and Power in Los Angeles, author Raphael Sonenshein defined five-term Mayor Tom Bradley as “the most important political figure in Los Angeles in the last three decades.”

  Through an internship, and later, as part of Bradley’s staff, I was shoulder to shoulder with the icon who put together a coalition of Jewish, Black, Hispanic, and other liberal supporters who beat back racist opposition in 1973. He went on to build a city that was “proudly multicultural,” as LA Times writer Howard Blume noted.

  When I ran for a city council seat in LA, I used Mayor Bradley’s model. I didn’t run on divisive racial politics, even though I firmly believed my opponent catered to her white constituents while largely ignoring the Black voters in the Crenshaw district. Although I didn’t win the race, I came to really appreciate how the mayor’s diversified approaches earned lifelong loyalty and empowered an entire city.

  After leaving Mayor Bradley’s office and slowly gaining access to larger and larger local radio audiences, I had the opportunity to partner with Ruben Navarrette, Jr. He later worked for the San Diego Union-Tribune and became one of the most widely syndicated Hispanic columnists in the country. But back in 1994, Ruben and I were just two 20-somethings co-hosting one of the country’s first Black/ brown radio programs.

  Initially, I was hesitant about our partnership. Number one: I was a solo guy; the idea of sharing the microphone with a co-host wasn’t immediately appealing. Second: Like my debate coach, Ruben was more conservative in his views. I feared that, politically, our partnership wouldn’t work. The only thing we really had in common was our youth, which won us the coveted cover spot on the LA Times’s Calendar magazine, “Talk Radio’s Ne(X)t Generation.”

  On the air five nights a week, Ruben and I were forced to wrestle with the Black/brown divide. At the time everyone was in an uproar about the vast numbers of Hispanics moving into LA. I was one of those voices speaking for Blacks who felt they were being crowded out by Latinos. Ruben didn’t agree with me, but we learned to respectfully deal with our differences and elevate conversations beyond youthful emotion.

  The show was short-lived, but in the time we spent together, I came to better appreciate the value of passionate, diverse dialogue; multiracial coalitions; and the importance of stepping outside the exclusive prism of my blackness. We may have held dramatically opposing political views, but when it came to unemployment, poverty, and prisons, Ruben and I were in total agreement—both Black and brown folk were catching hell.

  Start Where You Are …

  The advice of my debate coach and Mayor Allison took on more meaning as I rose in the public arena and my understanding of Dr. King’s principles congealed. The struggles of Black people were Dr. King’s starting point, but his message was absolutely universal.

  As a twice-weekly commentator on the Tom Joyner Morning Show and later as host of my own program on Black Entertainment Television (BET), my starting point was with Black audiences. But as I evolved, I went from the Blackest of Black media venues, Tom and BET, to the whitest of white media outlets—NPR and PBS.

  The same sense of evolution applied to my decision in early 2010 not to host the annual State of the Black Union conference. For ten years, we had rare, high-caliber, and important conversations that were broadcast nationally on C-SPAN. But even before the election of Obama, that void had been filled by a variety of Black media platforms from talk radio shows to Websites to blogs. My role as convener of the symposia wasn’t as necessary as it had been in prior years. So many other forums now have the chance to raise the issues that I’ve always championed and continue to care about. I now have the opportunity to take my passions into different arenas.

  The space that so desperately needs the inclusion of voices and concerns like mine is that sphere of analysis dominated by the Sunday morning network news shows and cable networks like CNN, FOX News Channel, and MSNBC. Despite the overpopulation of news and information outlets, there is less and less ideological diversity in the media. So many of us are left out of these conversations. When we turn on cable television, for the most part, all we see, all day and all night, is all white.

  In the most multicultural, multiracial, multiethnic America ever, mainstream media is at its best when it challenges folks to reexamine the assumptions they hold and expand their inventory of ideas. Mainstream media is at its worst when it fails to use its power to introduce Americans to one another—when it hesitates to build bridges across wide racial, cultural, ideological, and political gulfs.

  This was the impetus behind the forum I hosted just days before the annual celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday. On January 13, 2011, I had the privilege to moderate “America’s Next Chapter,” a nationally televised discussion in Washington, DC at George Washington University. The guest panelists were Arianna Huffington, founder of The Huffington Post; John S. Chen, chairman of the Committee of 100; CNBC’s Maria Bartiromo; David Frum, former speechwriter for President George W. Bush; Dana Milbank, political columnist for The Washington Post; David Brody, chief political correspondent for CBN News; Maria Teresa Kumar, executive director/co-founder of Voto Latino; and, of course, my good friend Dr. Cornel West.

  For three hours, Americans who tuned into C-SPAN, caught the rebroadcast on my PBS show, or streamed it online were treated to the kind of rich, diverse, racial, ethnic, political, and ideological viewpoints they would have rarely, if ever, seen on network or cable news programs. I was extremely proud of the outcome of the panel discussion and can only hope mainstream media heads noted the value of bringing diverse voices to the table to discuss issues that affect all Americans.

  It’s not that I have abandoned my commitment to the concerns of Black people. Hardly. Everywhere I go, I bring my whole self with me; which means everywhere I go, I bring my Blackness with me. My love for Black people will never, ever go away.

  To the contrary, the evolution I describe is more about embracing the totality of Dr. King’s message. He, too, started with a particular love for Black people but went on to propagate a universal love that embraced all humanity.

  My love of humanity starts unapologetically with my people because I unders
tand our struggle, which continues to this very day. But on the battlefield of race and class, injustice and exclusion, Black people are not exclusive targets.

  It is the memory of Dr. King that encourages me to sound the clarion call for political accountability. Too many conversations revolve around the concerns of the rich and lucky or the so-called middle class. Few talk about the poor, the disenfranchised, or the underprivileged. The “haves” get attention, while the “have-nots” languish out of sight.

  Too many Americans keep insisting that we must “take our country back.” They yearn for the “good ol’ days,” forgetting (or ignoring) that those days weren’t so good for red, Black, and brown folk. Others are boiling mad over immigration. It’s a waste of energy. No fence, no wall, no amount of troops along the border will ever dim the constitutional promise of liberty, freedom, and opportunity for all. Let’s face it: No one’s going anywhere!

  In 2010, Forbes magazine cited U.S. Census figures to make the argument that diversity needs to be a high priority in this country. By the year 2050, racial/ethnic minorities (Latinos at 30 percent, African Americans at 12 percent, and Asian Americans at 8 percent) will comprise 55 percent of America’s working-age population. In a world where China and India are superpowers and the marketplace is global, we need to prepare a cadre of colorful emissaries to help this country remain relevant in the 21st century and beyond.

  Dr. King’s operational definition of love means that everyone is worthy—just because. It’s not about titles, wealth, or skin color. LOVE means everyone is worthy—just because.

  A similar theme was found in the 2005 editorial, “How the Civil Rights Movement affected U.S. immigration,” published by the Sound Vision Foundation, a nonprofit religious organization dedicated to producing constructive and educational Islamic media content.