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Michele Norris: Breaking the Silence
Gracefully
Interview by Kam Williams
Born on September 7,
1961, Michele Norris was the youngest of three sisters
raised in Minneapolis, Minnesota by Betty and Belvin
Norris, Jr. Since studying Communications at the
University of Minnesota, Michele has embarked on a
stellar career in journalism.
Best known as the current
co-host of NPR’s All Things Considered, she was
recently honored with the Alfred I. DuPont–Columbia
University Award for The York Project: Race and the
‘08 Vote. In 2009, she was named the Journalist of
the Year by the National Association of Black
Journalists.
Ms. Norris has written
for a variety of publications, including The
Washington Post, the Chicago Tribune, and the
Los Angeles Times. As a correspondent for ABC
News from 1993 to 2002, she earned Emmy and Peabody
awards for her contribution to the network’s 9/11
reporting.
Michele lives in
Washington, D.C., with her husband, Broderick Johnson,
and their three children. Here, she discusses The
Grace of Silence, a poignant memoir exploring
unspoken family skeletons revolving around the race.
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Kam Williams: Michele, thanks for the time. I loved
the book.
Michele Norris:
Thank you. I took a look at your review of it, and it’s
clear that you had dived right into it. And it sounds
like I had a surprise for you. [Laughs]
Kam Williams:
Yeah, although I’ve listened to you for years on the
radio I never knew you were black. So, that made the
content of your memoir all the more surprising, since it
revolves so much around racial issues. My readers came
up with such great questions for you that I’d like to
get right to them. FSU grad Laz Lyles says, “I'd like to
know what gave you the courage to write the book,
considering that your family dealt with tragedy and
adversity in a very private and quiet way.”
Michele Norris:
This was a difficult journey… It was my mother who
initially signaled subtly that she was ready to talk
about this, and then sent further signals that she might
be ready to let me write about it. Eventually, she
actually said out loud that she wanted me to write this
book when she was gone. Once I got that green light from
her, once she stepped in the boat, I knew I had to do it
to honor our family history, and I knew I had to do it
right. And once I started down that road, there was no
turning back for me. I had a voracious appetite to learn
all I could, not just about my grandparents’ individual
experiences and what had happened to my father in
Alabama, but about the world they’d lived in. I needed
to know how that had impacted me, because it was clear
that I’d been shaped not just by the things they did
talk about, but also by what they didn’t dare talk
about.
Kam Williams: I
know what you mean. My father undoubtedly encountered a
great deal of discrimination while serving in the
segregated U.S. military during World War II, and again
as one of the first blacks to integrate the NYC Fire
Department. Yet he never complained about any of it to
his kids during our childhood.
Michele Norris:
Think about that…Think about your father... There’s so
much in that thought you shared. It would have been so
easy for him to come home and let it all out, and grouse
until bedtime, because he had to keep it all bottled up
inside while he was at work. Imagine if that had been
the house you’d grown up in, if that had been what you
heard. That’s what I was trying to get at when I titled
this book,
The Grace of Silence.
A generation of Americans who had so many reasons to be
angry at the world, and who could’ve instructed their
children to brace themselves for a torrent of hatred and
low expectations, instead set high expectations and
armed their offspring with ambition instead of rage.
That was incredible, for a generation to suffer all that
they did and yet to choose to order their priorities so
that their children would not be weighed down by their
pain. They understood that if you really want your kids
to fly, you don’t put stones in their pockets.
Kam Williams:
Something I like about your book is how besides
discussing black silence it also explores the
corresponding skeletons in white folks’ closets.
Michele Norris: I
very much wanted to understand how life was lived on the
other side of the color line, particularly in my
father’s Alabama in the Forties and Fifties. Part of
what I want people to take away from the book is that
white America had its secrets, too. It is quite obvious
that they had also had stopped talking about them. So,
because people on both sides of the color line decided
not to speak about that period, we don’t have a really
good understanding of what preceded the sixties’ Civil
Rights Era.
Kam Williams: I
was struck by the frank reflections of the white woman
who admitted hearing her father say, “We have to have a
good lynching every once in a while to keep the nigger
in his place.”
Michele Norris:
And she recalled how shocking it had been for her to
hear it coming from her father, because he had forged
friendships across the color line, and wasn’t a member
of the Klan or even a redneck racist. There are a lot of
people who grew up around that sort of sentiment. So, if
we really want to talk honestly about race, then that
conversation is probably going to get a little bit
prickly. It may make your stomach churn. It may make you
a lot more than merely uncomfortable.
Kam Williams:
Reverend Florine Thompson asks, “How were you affected
by the revelation of the family secret that your father
had been shot in his Navy uniform by a white police
officer right after returning to Birmingham at the end
of World War II?
Michele Norris: It
affected me deeply, and in ways that I’m still
discovering… [Pauses] Sorry, I can’t really find words
that can fully encompass the depth my pain about what
transpired. I was so surprised to realize that my
father, who had a sunny disposition and such a warm and
kind temperament, must have nonetheless been dragging
around this huge weight which we just couldn’t see. It’s
really hard to reconcile his emotional burden with the
fact that I never had an opportunity to talk to him
about it. [Sighs] That’s really hard to reconcile… and
still affects me on a personal level in many ways. I
don’t know if I will ever get used to saying that my
father was shot.
Kam Williams:
Reverend Thompson would also like to know, “How
important is spirituality in your daily life?”
Michele Norris:
Very. It was very important in the household growing up,
and it is a rock that I reach for many times a day. It
is a gift that I try to give my children with the
knowledge that there is something larger than them that
will guide them and protect them and give them strength
at moments when things perhaps don’t make sense.
Kam Williams:
Children’s book author Irene Smalls says, “The
Grace of Silence
is in many ways every black person's story. My family
moved from I don't know where South Carolina. To this
day my family does not talk about their lives in the
South. Is there grace in silence? Should we, as the next
generation of blacks, be unearthing the skeletons and
pain of what our grandparents endured under Jim Crow? Or
should we let sleeping dogs lie? What lessons can we
learn?”
Michele Norris:
There are a lot of questions there. I’ll try to answer a
few. I believe there is grace in silence. Still,
I think it is worth trying to go back to unearth some of
those secrets. To use Irene’s metaphor, it’s time to
awaken those sleeping dogs, but to do it respectfully.
It is incumbent upon those of us raised by the
generation that had to endure the indignities of Jim
Crow to demonstrate a certain grace in the silence that
accompanies being a good listener, and thus providing
the space for a great unburdening. I feel keenly that,
at some point, the elders who locked away their stories
will suddenly want to talk about them. My father left
this earth in 1988, and my great regret in life is that
I will have to go to my own grave wondering whether I
failed to create a space for him to share his story. So,
when those of his generation remaining are ready to
talk, we have to make sure that we’re willing to listen.
But we have to lead them there.
Kam Williams:
Attorney Bernadette Beekman says, “I always wondered
about the pronunciation of her name. [“Mee-shell”] Why
the emphasis on the first syllable?”
Michele Norris: I
don’t exactly quite know why my father stepped on the
first syllable like that, but I proudly honor him now by
insisting that people pronounce it the way that he did.
Kam Williams:
Bernadette notes that the title of your book was
originally going to be "Say What." She says, “I love the
new title. It's especially poignant since you relate
your family's story of silence. I heard only for the
first time certain stories of my own parents living
through what we would consider appalling acts of racism.
Why did you change the title?”
Michele Norris:
Originally, I really liked that title because it was a
double entendre which could be interpreted in several
ways. But when the anecdotes in the book started to take
an intimate, personal, and very revealing turn, “Say
What” seemed too flippant, and didn’t match the gravitas
of the project anymore.
Kam Williams: Yale
grad Tommy Russell says, “Holy Shamoly! I listen to NPR
every day and only recently realized that Michele Norris
was black... Amazing!” He asks, "What do you think the
biggest threat to media is nowadays? Biased reporting?
The decline of traditional revenue models for print, TV,
and radio companies?"
Michele Norris:
There are many threats. I don’t know which one’s the
biggest. Part of the problem is the instant news
culture. So many people are looking for news on the go.
If you really want to understand the world, you’re not
going to by consuming news in the form of bite-sized
haikus. I’m sorry to step up on a soapbox, but I have
strong feelings about this.
Kam Williams:
Tommy is curious about whether you ever watch Fox News?
Michele Norris: I
do, on a regular basis.
Kam Williams: And
he’d like to know whether you get chills at work when
you hear the opening of for All Things Considered?
Michele Norris:
[Chuckles] I don’t exactly get chills but every day, at
around 3:30 in the afternoon, I get this little
adrenaline rush, even if I’m not on the air, like
weekends.
Kam Williams:
Harriet Pakula Teweles notes that when Charles Osgood
signs off on Sunday Morning, he says, "I'll see
you on the radio." She says, “For those who haven't been
able to see you, but now can, what do you hope they will
see that they may not have seen before?”
Michele Norris:
Wow, that’s an interesting question! I hope they see
someone who’s curious and open to hearing all kinds of
things. It’s been nice to have been somewhat anonymous
being in radio, but I’m not anymore. Although it’s
called
The Grace of Silence,
my hope is that this book will start small conversations
in intimate settings like kitchen tables, workplace
break rooms, and college dormitories.
Kam Williams: Is
there any question no one ever asks you, that you wish
someone would?
Michele Norris:
Did you get lunch today? [LOL]
Kam Williams: The
Tasha Smith question: Are you ever afraid?
Michele Norris: I
am often afraid. I’m not Wonder Woman. But I was lucky
enough to have been taught as a child by nuns to stare
down my fears every day by doing something that
absolutely terrified me. It was good advice then, and
it’s good advice now.
Kam Williams: The
Columbus Short question: Are you happy?
Michele Norris: I
am… I’m blessed.
Kam Williams: The
Teri Emerson question: When was the last time you had a
good laugh?
Michele Norris: A
minute ago in the course of this conversation. [LOL] A
good sense of humor is something I try to hold onto. My
father always said, “You have to laugh to keep from
crying, and boy was he right about that.”
Kam Williams: The
bookworm Troy Johnson question: What was the last book
you read?
Michele Norris: I
just re-read
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. It was
required summer reading for all the parents at my
children’s school. It’s a wonderful book which is great
for generating some interesting conversation.
Kam Williams: The
music maven Heather Covington question: What are you
listening to on your iPod?
Michele Norris: My
iPod is always on shuffle. But if you want to know what
artist really has got my juices going, I am just a
stone-cold
Janelle Monae addict. The girl is sassy and smart,
and she’s got the dance moves and the attitude. I defy
you to sit still listening to her. I just can’t wait to
see what she does next.
Kam Williams: What
is your favorite dish to cook?
Michele Norris:
Oh, I cook all the time. But my favorite dish to cook is
gumbo at Christmas. The Christmas gumbo is special, it
takes two days to make and it’s really good.
Kam Williams: Just
last week, Raven-Symone’ told me gumbo was her favorite
dish to cook, too. The Uduak Oduok question: Who is your
favorite clothes designer?
Michele Norris:
[Laughs] Target has to be my favorite because I have
kids to put through college. I’ll tell you who I like,
though, Tahari. And I love Tracey Reece but, like I
said, I seem to spend a lot more time in Target than in
any designer boutiques.
Kam Williams: If
you could have one wish instantly granted, what would
that be for?
Michele Norris:
That my children be happy.
Kam Williams: When
you look in the mirror, what do you see?
Michele Norris: A
work in progress.
Kam Williams: The
Ling-Ju Yen question: What is your earliest childhood
memory?
Michele Norris:
The twinkly lights at Christmas, when I was 4.
Kam Williams: The
Flex Alexander question: How do you get through the
tough times?
Michele Norris: I
breathe deeply, and I pray.
Kam Williams: Have
you ever wished you could have your anonymity back?
Michele Norris: I
feel like I still have it, but you can check back with
me on that.
Kam Williams: What
advice do you have for anyone who wants to follow in
your footsteps?
Michele Norris:
Work hard, write often.
Kam Williams: The
Tavis Smiley questions. First, how introspective are
you?
Michele Norris:
Very. I don’t think anybody could walk the journey that
I just did without being duly introspective.
Kam Williams:
Secondly, Tavis asks, how do you want to be remembered?
What do you want your legacy to be?
Michele Norris:
That she did well by her family. I’m going to borrow a
line from Thurgood Marshall, “She did the best she could
with what she had.”
Kam Williams:
Michele, thanks again for the interview, and for writing
a very important book which, in my estimation, might
have a salutary effect on the culture.
Michele Norris:
Thanks Kam, and all the best to you.
* * * *
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“As a young
man, my father had been shot by a white
policeman, but never spoke about the
incident after leaving Alabama and moving
north. He never even told my mother. He took
the story to his grave… Every household is
different but in my childhood home the
window to that painful past was never widely
opened.
Our parents
felt we needed to know only so much. No time
for tears. No yearning for sympathy. You
see, you can’t keep your eye on the prize if
your sight is clouded by tears. How can you
soar if you’re freighted down by the anger
of your ancestors?”
—Excerpted
from the Introduction (pgs. xi-xii) |
I’ll be honest, I’ve
listened to Michele Norris for years on National Public
Radio in her capacity as host of All Things
Considered without knowing that she was black. After
all, I couldn’t see her, and she speaks in a fairly
nondescript Standard American English accent which makes
it difficult to discern her ethnic roots.
But when I received a
copy of
The Grace of Silence, it was easy to see from
her picture on the cover that she’s a sister. Still, I
have to admit that I was a little skeptical about how
frank her autobiography might be in terms of embracing
her African-American identity, given that it doesn’t
play a role in her professional persona.
Quite surprisingly, it
turns out that her heartbreaking memoir moved me to
tears, as she wistfully recounts her family’s quiet,
dignified way of dealing with racism and discrimination.
Whether it was her parents having to witness a mass
exodus of their neighbors via white flight after
integrating a neighborhood in Minnesota in the early
Sixties or, decades later, her father Belvin’s being
teased for being drunk when he was actually suffering
from a malignant brain tumor during the last days of his
life, Michele describes lives painfully limited in
certain respects by the color line.
She further recalls a
litany of humiliations endured by relatives before she
was born, such as her maternal grandmother who was
employed by Quaker Oats to travel around the country
dressed as Aunt Jemima in bandana and apron to give
pancake cooking demonstrations at State Fairs and the
like. Particularly poignant is the painstaking lengths
she goes to resurrect the besmirched name of her father
long after being falsely accused of a crime.
For following his
honorable discharge from the military after serving in
World War II, he returned to his hometown of Birmingham,
Alabama, reasonably expecting to enjoy equality. He and
his fellow veterans felt that they had earned the right
for black folks to vote by fighting and dying for their
country, so they began making the trek to the courthouse
downtown to politely attempt to register.
In an incident which was
subsequently covered-up by a falsified police report
covered with lies, her father was shot while wearing his
Navy uniform by a police officer who charged him with
attempted robbery and resisting arrest. The truth
unearthed by his intrepid reporter daughter during a
return to Birmingham belatedly clears Belvin’s name,
even if his innocence had been impossible to prove back
in the Jim Crow South.
Though railroaded and
shamed, Michele points out that he was actually very
lucky to have survived the confrontation at a time when
whites felt, “We have to have a good lynching every once
in a while to keep the nigger in his place.” A very
intimate, riveting and revealing cultural keepsake apt
to resonate deeply with any African-American family
inclined to reflect honestly on the oft-unspoken legacy
of coping for generations in a world where whites knew
they could get away with anything.
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Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in
America
By Melissa V.
Harris-Perry
According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.
Professor Perry
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
Caucasian babies.
As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
indiscriminately.
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Salvage the Bones
A Novel by Jesmyn Ward
On one level, Salvage the Bones is a simple story about a poor black family that’s about to be trashed by one of the most deadly hurricanes in U.S. history. What makes the novel so powerful, though, is the way Ward winds private passions with that menace gathering force out in the Gulf of Mexico. Without a hint of pretension, in the simple lives of these poor people living among chickens and abandoned cars, she evokes the tenacious love and desperation of classical tragedy. The force that pushes back against Katrina’s inexorable winds is the voice of Ward’s narrator, a 14-year-old girl named Esch, the only daughter among four siblings. Precocious, passionate and sensitive, she speaks almost entirely in phrases soaked in her family’s raw land. Everything here is gritty, loamy and alive, as though the very soil were animated. Her brother’s “blood smells like wet hot earth after summer rain. . . . His scalp looks like fresh turned dirt.” Her father’s hands “are like gravel,” while her own hand “slides through his grip like a wet fish,” and a handsome boy’s “muscles jabbered like chickens.” Admittedly, Ward can push so hard on this simile-obsessed style that her paragraphs risk sounding like a compost heap, but this isn’t usually just metaphor for metaphor’s sake. She conveys something fundamental about Esch’s fluid state of mind: her figurative sense of the world in which all things correspond and connect. She and her brothers live in a ramshackle house steeped in grief since their mother died giving birth to her last child. . . . What remains, what’s salvaged, is something indomitable in these tough siblings, the strength of their love, the permanence of their devotion.— WashingtonPost
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The White Masters
of the World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
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