Mr. President, I ask to have printed in the Record the remarks of my friend Donna Brazile at the 20th anniversary celebration for Teen Voices. Teen Voices is a journalism mentoring and leadership development program for teen girls which…
Mr. President, I ask to have printed in the Record the remarks of my friend Donna Brazile at the 20th anniversary celebration for Teen Voices. Teen Voices is a journalism mentoring and leadership development program for teen girls which was founded in Cambridge, MA, and creates publications which reach hundreds of thousands of young women across the world. Donna's words do great justice to what a terrific program Teen Voices is as they celebrate an important milestone, and I believe this occasion deserves special recognition in the Congressional Record.
The information follows.
Remarks of Donna Brazile, April 14, 2011
Now, Karen, I noticed that as soon as I started speaking
you turned the music off. It reminded me of a few weeks ago
when I was at the White House--let me start by bringing
greetings from President Obama, who's in Chicago tonight.
President Obama is having a rally tonight and he wanted to
know why I couldn't come to Chicago to introduce him. I said,
``I'm going to be hanging out with Teen Voices and trust me,
I want to be in Boston tonight, Mr. President.'' But I was
invited a few weeks ago and some of you who are young enough
to remember the Motown sounds, the President invited me, and
it was one of those weekends when I wanted to see my sisters.
I have five sisters. So I said, ``I really need three
tickets.'' And he looked at me and said, ``Donna, this is
Motown. Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, John Legend, Arthur
Rees,'' and the list went on and on and on. So I said,
``Well, alright, then give me four tickets!'' And he said,
``Well I'm only going to give you one ticket. One for
yourself, and one for a guest.''
Well, I have six sisters. I mean five of us and you know,
my brothers. I said, ``Please give me a couple extra
tickets.''
He said, ``Sorry, you know, we have rules. And you cannot
get but one ticket.''
So I waited, I called the next week. And they said this was
the public liaison office so they gave me one ticket. So I
called the political engagement office. I thought, clearly
they must have an extra ticket. And they gave me another
ticket! So I called my sister, Lisa, and I said, ``Lisa, you
can come.'' I already told my older sister she could come.
And then I have another sister. She's number--Sheryl, Sheila,
Donna--she's number seven! So I said, ``Dmitri, guess what,
you can come!'' So there were four Brazile women in the
house. So of course, we got there right before the
performances. And then they said, ``Well, you all have to go
back there.'' And I'm like, ``No, no, no. That's not right.
We don't care. Because we're going to dance.'' And of course,
they seated us way in the back. But the performers had to
come out. So as John Legend came out my sisters were blowing
kisses. They didn't want autographs (we're not into
autographs from Louisiana). We want hugs. So the Jonas
Brothers came out, and I whisper, ``That's Nick Jonas!''
``What! What! My daughter loves him! Hey baby!''
I said, ``No, this is the White House, you don't do that.
This is a dignified place, this place has been here for 200
years.'' And so the night went on and on. And you know, back
in the day, for those of you who are a little young, every
time a new song came out--we had to twists and we did the
jerks. And then with Jackson 5--I want you back, I want you
back. So we knew all of the songs. Well, one song came on and
of course, this was a rendition of ``Dancing in the Street''
and my sister decided this was her moment to do a dance that
I had never seen. And a dance the Secret Service had never
seen. So, the reason why, when the music started playing, I
just wanted to give you all a warning, if my sisters were
here, they would have come up with a song. So it's now like
midnight, and I say ``Girls, the President has gone up. I
know Stevie Wonder is still here, but we've got to go home,
so come on, let's go.''
And my sister goes, ``Ain't no party like a White House
party, like a White House party don't stop.''
I said, ``Where'd you all get that?'' And then the Marine
Band, who knew the Marine band could actually play jazz
tunes, and then she's teaching the Marine Band--``Ain't no
party like a White House party, like a White House party
don't stop.''
The next day I saw the President, I was at a meeting and I
was trying to pretend I didn't know those women. I said, ``I
know Mr. President was taped so hopefully you can edit my
sisters out.'' Of course, when it was on PBS, they didn't
edit us out. Alright, my sisters--I just wanted to let you
all know if you go to the White House and decide to hang out
for a party or an event just remember--``Ain't no party like
a White House party, like a White House party don't stop.''
But . . . I'm chair of the Democratic Party. My dad is 80
years old. I called him and I said, ``Guess what. I'm chair
of the Democratic party, one of the oldest political parties
in the country.''
He said, ``It's a job.''
I said, ``Well, but it doesn't pay.''
He said, ``Well, that's like most jobs.''
There are some perks and I took advantage of one of them
just a night ago. I just want to let everyone know a little
bit about it. And you know, some people want a car to drive.
Not me. First of all, I want a man dropping me off. So it's
bad enough I live one block from the head of the CIA and I
have to explain to people who visit me why the cops are
outside. I say, ``No, nothing's going on at the house. It's
the CI--wait, never mind--it's okay, just come on in, it's
alright.'' So no, I don't want a car to drive. That's too
tacky, that's not me. I mean, I'm a girl from New Orleans. I
can roll.
So they say, ``Well, do you want a phone?''
I mean, well, I worked for Al Gore. He created the
Internet; of course I want a phone. ``So what do you have?''
``AT&T.''
``No, no, no. Dropped service. I'll stick with Verizon.''
And so they start listing all these other things, and I say
no letterhead, no business card, no office, no secretary, no
assistant.
They say, ``Donna, what do you want?''
I say, ``I hear you have tickets for the Easter egg roll.''
And, I want to tell you this story because when I worked for
Bill Clinton and Al Gore back in the 1990s, I was involved
with the inaugural as well as the campaign. I went into the
office one day and they said, ``Donna, what do you want?''
I said, ``All of the leftover tickets.'' Some people didn't
make it; they didn't sell all the seats, and so on. So here
you have rows of all the dignitaries all in the diplomatic
core, all these people from the government, all these people
looking good. And then you have rows of little kids. Rows and
rows. And that was me. I said, ``Absolutely. I'm going across
the bridge to Southeast, Washington D.C., and I am going to
give tickets out to kids, who like myself, their parents are
not rich. They don't have connections. But one day, one of
these kids, one, maybe one, will grow up and become President
of the United States.'' And I want to say that I gave them a
ticket. I gave them an opportunity. So when President Obama
won, and you all know I'm one for tickets--This is not my
speech, I'm going to get to my speech. But I just wanted to
let everyone know how I roll.
And so, this is why, at my age of 51, I have 300 children,
don't ask me how I did it. I did it, I got 300, they are
really well taken care of, different daddies; it's a long
story. But when you've worked on as many campaigns--Karen
mentioned my 7 presidential, my 58 congressional, and my 19
state and local campaigns, I worked on campaigns in 48
states. I've lived here twice in my life, 2 more states and I
will become Miss USA. I've done a lot of work in my life,
okay? I mean, I've worked in Alaska, I was up there. I was in
Juneau. I've been to Utah, I've seen the mountains. So I've
been all over the place, but I still keep it real. I'm still
that little girl, that little girl who grew up poor. To a
mother who was a maid, a father who was a janitor. And I was
proud of my parents, my parents worked very hard. They wanted
us to have everything; they wanted us to have the best of
life. Sometimes, they couldn't afford it. But often times,
they would put a little away. That's why I tell people I can
wait. My mother used to say, ``It's a little away. How fast
you need it?''
``Tomorrow.''
``Oh, no, no, no. How fast you need it?''
I'd say, ``Okay, next month.''
She'd say, ``Oh, I'll get it out by next month, don't
worry.'' And then, my mother, or my father, would go out and
work an additional job or longer hours so that we could get
what we needed in order to be the people that we are, or the
kids that we wanted to be, the grown-ups that we wanted to be
as well.
But, I would get my tickets, so my kids would come in, and
I'd say, ``Hey B.'' And by the way, I used to carry a big
purse. Whenever you see my carrying a big purse, I'm coming
after some tickets. That's not a bag, that's a ticket basket.
And I would walk into (something?) headquarters--you heard
the song ``Ain't too proud of the bag.'' I need it for my
kids. So I had 700 tickets from the President, and let me
tell you, everybody, every dignitary was hitting me up.
They'd say, ``Donna, got tickets?''
I'd say, ``No I don't.''
Ohhh she's lying! And then I learned how to, for my purple
ticket, oh so you want my purple give me 2 of your golds!
Why! Because my purple ticket gets you up front but you give
me 2 so think about it! I would get those big tickets so I
could get 5 smaller tickets so I could get more people in.
All I cared about was getting more people in. So I thought
about it the other day, because I'm always into tickets. I'm
a ticket person--so I said, ``How many tickets can I get as
the chair of the Democratic Party? I need my tickets.'' And
then I learned I got 10 tickets, I thought, oh thank you,
Lord, I got 10. Now you all know I'm starting at 10. Watch
me. Now the chair gets 10, how many does the Vice Chair get?
I'm still Vice Chair!
And then I'm going to call my congresswoman, and then I'm
going to call the congress people from Alaska. Nobody's
coming here for an Easter egg hunt. And Washington State; and
you know you can always hit up California; you know I'm going
to hit up Kansas. I can't hit up Hawaii because that's where
the President is from. But I'm going to get my tickets and
you know, I'm giving them to the kids, like myself, kids who
have grown up poor, kids who need to be able, because they
live in Washington, D.C., to say that ``I went to the White
House. I was at the White House and I saw the President, I
saw the First Lady, I saw his two little daughters, and I met
Bo.'' That's the dog, for those of you who don't know.
But I'm honored to be here with you, I had to tell my
tickets stories. Everyone who knows me back in DC calls me
the ticket lady. And I love tickets--not parking tickets--but
tickets. But it is an honor to join you tonight as you
celebrate 20 years. I've had some time to read up on Jenny
and all of the work that you all have done and have committed
to do. You are an inspiration. You have empowered millions of
young girls who not only read your magazine but those who
also contribute to it and those who want to be a part of it.
You are a source of inspiration and extortion of empowerment
and I want to thank the Board. I'd like to thank Lisa. I'd
like to thank all the sponsors and of
course Denise and Seema. And yeah, I've been checking out
your shoes. They come in size 11, baby?
But I also want to thank you for helping young girls find
their voices and helping them amplify their message and
lifting them up. Your message is one of hope and change. I
want to say, I remember what it's like to be young--it was
just 2 weeks ago--the grey hair may throw you off a little
bit, but the truth is, I'm still 15 at heart. Now, notice I
said 15, not 18. Fifteen not 13. Because, I believe at 15, I
had a life-changing, what I call, experience.
My grandmother, who took time to raise most of us, because
my parents were busy working, she got sick that year. And
throughout our childhood, Grandma was the rock; she was the
foundation in our house. My grandmother was from Mississippi.
She was the daughter of former slaves. And though she had
lived to see so many changes take place in her lifetime, she
had 12 kids. In fact, my daddy was number 12. My grandmother
had my father when at the age of 48--yeah I guess that's made
him the way he is.
But my grandmother, in my judgment, was my role model. She
was my rock. She was my inspiration. I wanted to be just like
Ramon, because she knew everything. I would get up in the
morning at 4 o'clock--``Ramon, what are you doing?''
She'd say, ``I'm soaking the clothes.''
``Well, okay.''
``We going to go hang them up outside.''
``Well, okay.'' I did that. At 5:30, she was in the kitchen
making buttermilk biscuits. As you can tell, I ate a couple
of them. They were the best buttermilk biscuits in the world.
She made her biscuits from scratch. But by 7:00, before we
went off for school, Ramon told me that I had to read the
newspaper with her. Her eyesight was failing. So I would read
the newspaper, from front to back. The classified section,
the sports section, and of course, I read the opinion
columns. I was excited to know what was going on in the world
and Grandma even taught me how to read the comics, and of
course, her horoscope--every day.
But when Ramon took sick, it really changed my life. All of
a sudden, I had to grow up. All of a sudden, I had to learn
how to take care of her. Along with two of my other siblings,
we took turns watching over her, bringing her soup, bringing
her water, helping her get up, and of course, helping her put
on her petticoat and slippers so that she could sit in her
rocking chair. A few months before we were to return back to
school, Ramon took a turn for the worst. And my mother and
father sat down along with Dr. Beam and said ``Ramon Frances
has to go into a nursing home. We can't afford to take care
of her--you're going back to school, and she will need
help.'' And so I talked to my baby sister, Lisa, and I said,
``Lisa, you like to comb hair. I can help bathe her. Sheryl
can make sure that her clothes--my grandmother liked all her
clothes ironed, we could not just put on anything. After all,
she did make our slips.'' She made everything but our
underwear.
She was the most important person in my life because she
taught me responsibility at a very young age. But, she also
taught me to pursue my dreams, and not to be afraid of what
was out of our homes. Ramon was one who believed in the
future; she was one who taught us not to be fearful of
anyone. One of the best pieces of advice I've ever received,
and God knows if it comes in handy now, is she said, ``Donna,
it's not what they call you. It's what you answer to.'' And
so, as a cable call girl on CNN, when they call, I go! I got
called last night--MSNBC--for three weeks, I can go on MSNBC
and Fox, so I'm having fun. Anderson called me last night,
``I miss you!''
``Baby, I know you're my boo, but I'm going to see what's
going on at MSNBC and Lawrence O'Donnell and Debbi Gregrory,
and George Will-Karen.'' I told George the other day, ``I
wanna see you in jeans before you retire.'' I want to tell
you all something about conservative men. If any of you all
are in the room, I know your secret--it is Victoria, it's
out. George Will, George Will has a soft spot. His soft spot
is that he is really a baseball fan, he loves sports. And
George Will loves anyone who knows sports. And so I often
bring in my baseball metaphors and my football metaphors and
that's how I get George to really warm up to me. And then I
do my zingas.
But my grandmother taught me another important lesson. And
at a very early age, she taught me that lesson. She taught me
to listen. She taught me to listen to what other people were
saying. So I know what it's like to grow up in a household
where people don't talk to you, or listen to you. I know what
it's like to grow up and not know what it is you wish to do
with your life. I know what it's like to be silenced, even
when I'm screaming my head off sometimes to get people to
listen--I know what it's like to have people think that you
have nothing to say. And I know what it's like, because I
experienced it also as a child growing up down in the
segregated deep South.
I can remember when I was often the youngest person because
I was so active in politics back in my native state of
Louisiana. So often they would invite young people in the
room just so the picture would look right but they really
didn't want us to say a word. They didn't want us to even
give our input. And it used to drive me crazy when I was
growing up, to just be out in the world not knowing if I
could make a difference, not knowing what the sound of my
voice would do if I was able to contribute. But it was my
grandmother who kept pushing me and others out the door. And
she gave me all of the courage I needed to go out there and
to try to make change in the world.
So I want to first of all say to all the teens in the room,
and those who still, like myself, are young at heart--you
have so much to give. The world is waiting for you. The world
needs you. And why you? Because there's no one better. And
why now? Because tomorrow is not soon enough. This is your
moment. This is your time. This is a time that not only can
you find your voice but you can find it in ways that will
allow you to soar and to make a difference.
I didn't wait until I was 18 before I decided to find my
voice. I started writing poems at an early age hoping that
someone would discover me. Perhaps I didn't know the rhymes
at the time but I had a story, I had something to say and I
wanted to share it. I wanted someone to listen to me. Then
again, my mother bought a tape recorder one year for
Christmas. She said, ``What do you want Donna?'' I said,
``Donna wants a tape recorder.'' And so my nickname became
``Tape Recorder.'' And I recorded every conversation and then
I put music to it and made it a soap opera for everyone to
listen to.
And so I wanted to be in the world, I wanted my voice
heard. And so this is your moment to begin the dream about
your future. And what kind of future are you looking to have?
And what do you want to do with your life?
You have to begin thinking about all of these questions
early because the world is not going to wait for you to catch
up with it. You have to begin to hurry history and catch up
with the world, especially now with all of the technology at
our disposal. We can talk to someone on Skype all the way
across the world. We can text right now and reach out to
people standing in line waiting for a (something). And yes,
we can find out with our own Twitter accounts and Facebook
that we can be part of a revolution taking place thousands
and thousands of miles away from here. So you are the future,
and it's time that you learn that ``the future belongs to
those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.'' The First
Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, when she said that, she could not
envision that we would live to see so many changes in this
country, yet we still have a long way to go.
So I want to leave you with some ingredients, and I want to
pour them into you right now. Because this is the moment for
you, many of you, who are ready to enter the world, ready to
make a difference, ready to use your voice, out there to try
to stir things up. When I was a young girl, I used to tell my
grandmother, ``Ramon, I want to be like Harriet Tubman.''
Harriet Tubman was one of my favorites. I figured anyone who
ran away from slavery was a good role model to have.
So I said to Ramon I wanted to be a leader. I wanted to be
a leader like Harriet Tubman. So some of you are probably
thinking, ``Wow, how can I become a leader?'' So this is what
I knew about being a leader. A leader is defined as someone
who is in command, as someone who guides, a person in a
position of influence or importance, a role model. Now let me
say, I'm a leader. Not only am I elected to an office that
allows me to help guide the oldest political party in the
country, I'm also a party leader that helps devise political
strategy, a campaign consultant who has also helped to
organize and manage campaigns at every level. But I'm also an
owner of a small business that employs staff, consultants,
and interns, I also teach at a major college. So the
foundation of good leadership is being honest and fair. A
leader is someone who listens as well as asks questions. A
leader has courage and a leader treats others with respect
and dignity. A leader admits to mistakes and takes
responsibility for his or her actions. And a leader has
integrity and can be trusted. A leader also inspires and
motivates others to take action in the pursuit of the common
good. Now, there are more traits; leaders are often problem-
solvers because they seek solutions and leaders are also
visionaries because they help to set long-term goals.
So it's important to learn how to use your voice to become
a leader, and that you begin to see yourself as a leader and
as someone who can become successful because you are
important and because we need you. We need more young women,
more young women willing to serve in public office. We need
more young women willing to write news articles, tweet,
posting blogs and stories on Facebook, and not just that
stuff that makes your friends happy. But the stuff that can
really make other people think. And so, here are my other
ingredients.
Believe in the power of your dreams. If you don't, no one
else will.
Second, be true to yourself. I've done a lot in my life
because someone else wanted me to do it or I thought about
it. Sometimes it turned out well, sometimes of course it
hasn't, but I have never ever given up on any of my dreams. I
keep working toward them. And when I finished writing that
first book, I will see a minority or woman as president and
four years later, we have our first bi-racial president. And
if I continue to work hard, one day, you all will be invited
to the White House as we inaugurate our first female
president, or Hispanic, Asian-American, person of color, and
so on.
So you have to live your dreams, you just can't dream and
then walk out of the room and expect someone to stir up all
the ingredients. You gotta go into the arena and stir
it up. Sometimes, you have to bring your own pot and
sometimes you have to bring your own fire. It's called
Tabasco, for those of you who don't know.
Number three: Never accept no as a final answer. I've been
told ``no, no, no;'' I know ``no'' in just about every
language. I often tell people after they say no, ``That's a
yes, isn't it?'' Nah, figure out a way. Go around it, go
beneath it, go above it, go below it, just find a way. Find a
way, find a path. If you really want to do something, go for
it. You can't stop at no. A friend used to tell me that no is
just a prelude to yes. Now, when I hear no, I think ``Good,
now I'm just one step closer to yes.''
Now number four: When you stumble get back up. I have
stumbled a lot. My knees are good, my elbows are even better,
sometimes I've had to work my way up, because I've had some
hits. I have fallen. But you get back up, it's as simple as
that. You're gonna fall, you're gonna fail, you're gonna make
mistakes, people will not always listen to you--I've got
three minutes left, I am not Baptist--I am Catholic; I need
five, and Ill wrap it up in four.
Number five: Keep a little spice handy. Life gets boring.
It is really boring sometimes. But never be afraid to spice
it up. Were all unique, no two of us are exactly alike--but
think about your limits. And then push them a bit. What makes
you uncomfortable? Sometimes you gotta know that so you can
just add those missing ingredients that might give you some
spice. For me, I was scared of horses. I had to spice up my
life and I had to ask myself--why? What's keeping me from
embracing something that I'm scared of? It was fear. Took me
until I was in my mid-40s, but I conquered that fear. I had
that horse following me, and I didn't even have an apple.
And let me tell you number six. Courage isn't the absence
of fear; courage is facing your fear and overcoming it.
Sometimes, you know what you're scared of before you even
know what you like! Don't let your fears stand in the way of
your success.
And then there's number seven. This is about faith. Because
when I was a little girl I had so many people invest what I
would call and consider now a lot of energy into me. They'd
say, ``Donna, you gotta do this.'' I'd respond, ``Okay!''
They'd say, ``Donna, can you make this happen?'' I'd say,
``Yes!'' And they would run off, and I'd be thinking----AHH!
I would freak. But I remember when Dr. Martin Luther King,
who inspired me as a little girl, said ``Faith is taking one
step, even when you cannot see the entire staircase.'' And
for me, I often have to just take that one step, and then it
comes right there. It just, it appears.
And Mrs. King, his wife, I was just over 21 when I met her
and worked for her as a young girl. And Mrs. King said,
``Donna, we want to make the birthday a national holiday.''
And I said, ``Okay!'' Everybody else, from the time Dr. King
died in 1968 'til 1981, they just said, ``We'll, maybe,'' and
then Ronald Reagan was elected and they'd say, ``Well that'll
never happen.'' And a bunch of us, we were all young, were
just out of college, we said, ``We have time.'' We'll do
it.'' And within 18 months, we had a holiday because we had
faith.
And so, let me close up a little bit by saying that I
learned growing up, with a large family, with brothers and
sisters, with parents, grandparents and others, with
neighbors who loved us, and with friends who would always
stand by our side--I learned that I could really go to the
next step. That I could move beyond the limitations placed on
me simply because of where I was born. I knew that when I was
a kid that no matter what people said about my skin color,
what they said about my hair, what my sisters continue to say
about my hair. I'm like, ``Will you all stop?'' They say,
``Donna, it looked like (something) last night.'' And I say,
``Your TV, maybe you should get HDTV. Maybe you should get
rid of that box.'' But I know they're telling me with love to
get myself to the beauty parlor. But I learned as a little
kid, it's not what people say, and it's not what people see
about you. My grandmother was right. It's what you believe
in. It's not what they call you, it's what you answer to.
So let me close with a poem that continues to inspire me
every time I read it. It's Maya Angelou, called ``Still I
Rise.'' And I close with her words:
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise . . .
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
To my friends, to the young ladies, to the sponsors, to all
the supporters of this great organization, it's now your turn
to let these young women rise, to give them the wings that
they need so that they will soar and make a difference. To
rise up to your full potential, to rise until you feel the
air surrounding you. Rise up, rise high, and make us all
proud. Thank you and God bless
you.