Women Who Dare to Dream…In Life And In Business
Delivered by Janis F. Kearney to Ethnic
Minorities Business Service, Bolton, UK
October 23, 2003
Good evening. What a strange and wonderful feeling it is to be here, in Bolton,
England…the other side of the world for me. I am so honored to have been asked
to speak to you, tonight, about “my journey,” which was precipitated by a life
of dreaming and daring. I know the official theme for tonight’s event is
“women who dare,” but, I have entitled my presentation, “women who dare to
dream…in life and business,” because I’m a strong believer that it is women who
dream big dreams, and dare to make changes in their lives, who, in fact
precipitate changes in our world.
You, in the UK have a long history of strong, empowered women leading nations,
and daring to make changes that affect your very world. And, though America hasn’t
been around as long, and we have a different form of government – no queens or
princesses to speak of - we do have a long list of empowered women and leaders…
independent women who dare to speak out, and seek to make a difference in a world
still ruled by men. If there is one thing our women leaders have in common with
your leaders; it is the capacity to dream big dreams, and their daring to make
a difference.
I want to thank Ayyub, for that kind introduction, and for inviting me here,
tonight, and for pulling such an amazing group of women together for this event.
What a wonderful group of women! And, finally, I’d like to acknowledge you, the
audience, and thank each of you for taking time out of your busy lives to be here
with me.
I was chatting with a few of you earlier, and learning a bit about the different
cultures that make up this part of the world. I am absolutely fascinated by cultures
– it’s a wonder I didn’t go into anthropology or ethnography, rather than the world
of writing and communication. I’m so very amazed that one can travel the world over,
and see people who look so very different, and, at the same time, people who could
pass for your next door neighbor. In the end, we learn that human beings are simply
human beings… if you tickle us, we laugh; if you pinch us, we wince; if you hurt us,
we cry…we’re all brothers and sisters - with the same wants, needs, desires…and,
yes, concerns. But, our differences are blessings, too. All of us bring our cultures,
our experiences and stories to the table of life…our own individual, unique stories
are invaluable contributions that help make this the amazing planet that it is.
You should never forget that.
Given the fact that we have an audience of both business owners, and professional
women who are not business owners, here tonight; it’s my hope that my one
presentation will touch all of you, or at least some of you. Hopefully, there is
some small grain of information you can take away with you.
I am honored to talk to you tonight, just briefly, about my personal journey, which
I call, “from the cotton fields to the white house.”
Most writers will tell you, we live to write, rather that talk; but, I always
appreciate the opportunity to speak my heart and to share my stories with other women,
with the hope that there might be just one person who can relate, can learn, can be
surprised or inspired by my own personal experiences.
There are very, very few events I feel as good about, as spending an evening with a
room full of women. Because, nine times out of ten, in a room full of women, there
is almost always that indescribable “buzz,” of life and energy surging through the
air. The miracle of women, is that while we are viewed the world over as nurturers
and givers, we are also amazingly open to change, and to worlds that are different
from our own – lives that may not fit neatly into a perfectly square box. We’re
truly Renaissance, that way.
Where there are women, there is power – whether we know it or not, and whether we
embrace it or not. But, when women embrace their power…there is always, always
change. One of the exciting things happening in the states, is watching and
participating in this change taking place, there…women realizing and acting on their
economic, political and social power; and, men, finally realizing and accepting that
we are deserving. But, it won’t be, until women are compensated fairly for our jobs
as mothers, housekeepers, and teachers -- and paid equal to a man, when we do the same
job as a man…that we can truly celebrate women’s liberation…or, we can say we’ve
actually arrived.
I must tell you, growing up in a small, rural town 100 miles from the home town of
William Jefferson Clinton, I would never have dreamed that I would one day be standing
here in the UK, before a group of accomplished women talking about my life. In fact,
I would much rather be sitting there where you are tonight, listening to your stories,
of how you got from A to Z.
What is clear to me, just from my brief conversations earlier, is that we are truly
sisters in the struggle for economic equity. We have all experienced some of the same
obstacles, and seek ways to rid our world of those obstacles. In spite of the fact that
each of us were born in a different part of the world, we have had some of the same life
experiences, and want the same things out of life: empowerment, liberty, and freedom.
Many of you have already accomplished amazing feats, some of you have made huge sacrifices,
and others have miraculously beat the odds, to reach your dreams.
It warms my heart when I read or learn that women, from all walks of life, all corners of
this world, are beginning to demand their rights, striking out on their own, seeking
independence and economic equity in a world that for, far too long, has been ruled by men.
As a writer, a politician and a former journalist and newspaper publisher, I know the
heartaches and headaches of marching to a different drummer. Independence is wonderful,
but we bare the scars of daring to be different.
When I look back at the paths I’ve taken in my journey, it makes me wonder if all daring
women are also closet masochists - gluttons for punishment. Like you, I have inevitably
chosen to follow my own drum beat, and my own dreams. Those choices have sometimes caused
me heartache and worry – mostly, though, scars of courage that I bare with pride.
As a writer, I have learned that, though we are in fact entrepreneurs, our vocation is
seldom recognized as a legitimate business. Most people, in fact, view writers as hobbyists.
But, I have always believed that we are what we do. That, we define our worth and our
value by the very thing we get up each day to do. And, more than anything, beyond all the
other things we might be…entrepreneurs are infinite dreamers. Believing in what we can’t
see, and always hoping for something beyond what is in front of us.
Dreaming. How many of you were told by your mom, dad or other adults, that dreaming
was childish, and shook you in the middle of one of your fondest moments, and told you “stop
that dreaming, child?” In many adult’s eyes, dreaming indicates a bored or inactive
imagination …not to be taken seriously. Dreaming, we are told, is for people who are not doers
– those who choose to imagine reality, rather than live it.
I beg to differ. My father taught me and my siblings very early in life, that dreaming is a very
serious matter. My father, James, who is 97 years old and almost as active as I am, told us:
when you start at square one and hope to move to square 5, or 10 or 20; the only sure way to get
there…is by imagining what it would be like to be there, first…by dreaming your way, there.
Dreaming is as much a part of who I am, where I’ve been, and where I plan to go – as my education, my
career experiences, or my rolodex. I believe in dreams and I think anyone hoping to achieve great, or
even good things in life, has to begin with dreams.
And, speaking of where I’ve been. Allow me to share just a little about my journey that began in the
cotton fields of southeast Arkansas. No, I wasn’t born in the cotton fields; but, my family’s livelihood
revolved around that thick, white stuff that was for many decades, synonymous with the America’s legacy
of slavery.
My parents were sharecroppers, and we lived a sharecropper’s impoverished life, that included my father
leasing a plot of land from a white farmer, on which he raised 40 acres of cotton. We began working in
my father’s cotton fields when we were seven or eight years old, chopping the cotton crops in the summers,
and picking the cotton, in preparation for sale, in the fall.
The cotton was sold to the cotton gin company, for just enough money for us to live through the winter.
For many years, my father also rented a house and an acre of land to plant a garden from the same white
farmer who rented us land to raise our cotton. We grew vegetables in the summer, and canned and froze them
for the long winters when money would be scarce. And, from that same white farmer, during the spring, my
father would be given a credit line, to borrow against his cotton crop. This would help him purchase the
seeds, fertilizer, and the equipment needed for his tractor to plant his crop for the next year.
This was our existence for all the seventeen years I lived in Gould, Arkansas. Yet, our poverty was only
skin-deep; in fact, we were a very blessed family. Lucky, rich in some ways – in having such extraordinary
parents, having such a close and loving family, and, thankful most of all for our parent’s permission to dream.
We all learned that through adversity, comes strength and character. And, James and Ethel Kearney taught us
that we are not the sum total of what others decide we are. We decide who and what we are, not others.
I’ll never forget the little rhyme my mother taught me, when I was very young, and said I should recite it
any time schoolmates taunted me and made fun of our poverty: Sticks and stones might break my
bones…but words will never harm me. Needless to say we repeated that rhyme, many a day.
My parents lived to see 16 of their 17 children graduate from college. Nine attorneys, two judges, two
served as aides to President Bill Clinton, and a number of my siblings graduated from ivy league schools
such as Harvard, Yale, Brown, Stanford and other great colleges. Our saving grace, my friends, were that
our parents believed in dreams, and set their sights on a better life for their children, than the life
they lived.
We all learned and embraced the power of dreams from parents who had little else to rely on. And, because
of that, when people ask me whether I ever thought my journey from southeast Arkansas to the white house
was possible…my answer is that, while that experience was a once-in a lifetime experience for me; I
was taught from my parents to believe that anything, anything is possible if we dream hard enough.
After college, where I attained a journalism degree; I worked nine years in state government – as most of
you know, that’s not the most creative work one could imagine. In 1987, I left state government and became
managing editor of the Arkansas State Press newspaper, the first and only African American owned
newspaper in Arkansas for many years. The renowned Daisy Bates and her husband, L.C. Bates founded the
newspaper in 1941. If you plug in Daisy Bates’ name in www.google.com; or even civil rights in America, you’ll
find that she played a very important role in the school integration effort in Arkansas. She was the
advisor and guide to the nine young black students who integrated the all-white Central High School of
Little Rock, Arkansas during the infamous 1957 integration crisis.
The Arkansas State Press newspaper was an important forum for black Arkansans to stay aware
of what was happening, nationwide, with the civil rights struggle. However, because of Daisy and L.C. Bates’
role in the civil rights effort, white businessmen forced the newspaper to close its doors, by pulling their
advertisement from the paper.
In 1984, Daisy Bates, who, by then, was quite ill, and was well into her 70’s, kept a promise to her late
husband, by re-opening the Arkansas State Press newspaper. Three years later, in 1987, I left
state government, and was hired on as managing editor for the newspaper, and served in that role for just
three months, before Daisy announced she was retiring.
You can imagine the look on my face, and the consternation in my heart when she made that announcement!
After some soul-searching, praying and persuading my husband, I went into the office the next day and asked
her to sell the newspaper to me…To make a long story short, she did, saying the only reason was, she
believed I had the “fire in the belly” necessary to run small minority newspaper. She also allowed me to
pay her on an installment plan.
Becoming publisher of the historical Arkansas State Press, was like one of those surreal
moments when you discover a gift within your reach, but you’re not exactly sure how it got there…and,
you’re certainly not sure what to do with it. But, mostly, it was a very proud moment in my life. I knew
what a great opportunity and a great responsibility this was. And, it turned out to be a great stepping
stone for my next life that would involve the world of politics.
Publishing a weekly newspaper gave me an opportunity to learn the movers and shakers in the political world,
and to use the power of the pen to voice mine and the community’s opinions of our political leaders. While
I had never been very interested in politics before, I had always taken interest in what was going on around
me; and, I’d always been very opinionated about politics and politicians. The Arkansas State Press
allowed me a wonderful forum to air those opinions.
By the time 1992 rolled around, I was quite comfortable in my role as a newspaper publisher. I’d gotten use to
working 20 hours a day, and sometimes spending the night at the office; and, I was enjoying the bit of notoriety
that being a young, female publisher afforded me. But, life is so very fickle…and, dreams work
in mysterious ways. And, you never know for sure where they will lead you.
So, in 1992, I was confronted with another opportunity, that turned out to also be a wonderful gift. Our young
governor, a man by the name of Bill Clinton, who I had known for years – since the time he came to the University
of Arkansas as a very young law professor, decided to run for president of the United States.
While most Arkansans who knew him, were confident that he could win the presidency – most people outside Arkansas
had grave doubts that a governor from such a small, rural state as Arkansas could ever be a president of the United
States. But, I believed in Bill Clinton’s heart, and his passion for creating a government and an environment
that served “all” the people, not just some. I was impressed with what he had done for the state of Arkansas and
believed, with his ideals and brilliant mind, he could do the same for our country.
I took a sabbatical from my newspaper, in spring, 1992, and left its operation to my editor, first; and, then my sister.
I began working full-time in the Clinton/Gore presidential campaign. I worked in the headquarters’ press office, as
minority media coordinator. And, even with the long hours and the minimal pay, I have never regretted my decision to
take part in that historic campaign.
The Clinton-Gore presidential campaign was about much more than getting Bill Clinton and Al Gore into the white house;
it was about change, real change. It was about making government work for all the people, not just some of the people.
It was about America keeping its promise to all Americans…even, the least of us.
Well, as you know, William Jefferson Clinton and Al Gore did win the presidency. And, after the campaign, and the
Clinton/Gore victory; I was one of the very lucky people that President Clinton invited to join him in Washington,
D.C., and at the white house. Imagine, here is a country girl who had never lived outside Arkansas before, and I was
on my way to the white house. For those first few weeks, and even until I left in 2001, I had to shake myself and pinch
myself to make sure the whole experience wasn’t a dream. After working in the white house media affairs office for a
brief stint, in 1993; I was appointed as director of communications for the small business administration – a wonderful
job that allowed me to use all the things I’d learned about communication, journalism, and management.
Then, in 1995, I was brought back to the white house, as president Clinton’ personal diarist. Not only was this the first
time in history that any president hired someone to do such a job; but, imagine – in America – the official chronicler
of presidential history – was an African American woman, with a childhood such as mine. This was an unbelievable six
years for me. I had great access to the president, I was able to sit in on meetings and events that most people couldn’t.
I was participating in history in the making!
The rest of course, is history…Bill Clinton was president for eight years, and most of us believe that if he decided
today that he wanted to run for the 2004 election – and the constitution allowed it, which it doesn’t – he would run a
brilliant campaign, and likely win. In spite of everything, however, our eight years in the white house were a roller
-coaster ride. And, while Bill Clinton will certainly go down in history as a great president; the most brilliant; most
charismatic in history…today, there are still Americans who focus on one small part of his presidency - the Monica
affair.
Unfortunately for our administration, the Lewinsky affair caused irreparable damage to the Clinton white house, both,
in our ability to focus on the important issues that demanded our attention; and, on manpower that was devoted to
defending our boss against the right-wing Republicans. For almost two years, some one of us was summoned to testify
in front of the grand jury, to confront the ugly questions not just from the judge involved, but afterward, from the
newspapers, the night talk shows, the news shows, the radio shows, the white house reporters…it was both a circus
and an everyday political battle for survival.
And, whether or not any of us agree with first lady Hillary Clinton’s claim of a “right wing conspiracy;” the truth is
that the attacks on her husband began before he walked into the oval office. They began the day he was nominated in
1992. Many political heavy weights “inside the beltway,” never accepted Bill Clinton as president, and never wanted
the kind of America he espoused. And, of course the Republican congress magnified Bill Clinton’s error in judgment,
into a looming national emergency – which, eventually turned into a looming national embarrassment.
Had it not been for Bill Clinton’s brilliant mind, and uncanny ability to compartmentalize, the country would have,
indeed, stood still for almost two years, as the republican congress attempted to derail his presidency and annihilate
his legacy.
Yet. We all survived the Clinton white house. And, in fact, I couldn’t be prouder to say that I served in the Clinton
white house. Bill Clinton kept a great majority of the promises he made to America. It was eight of the most
successful years America has experienced in more than a century. His was also the closest thing to a populist
presidency – truly representing all Americans – than any other.
The Clinton presidency afforded people like me the opportunity to participate in presidential politics, and to serve
in the white house administration. But, I was not alone. For the first time in American history, African Americans,
Asians, Hispanics, Indian Americans and native Americans were appointed to levels of government they had never been
given the opportunity to serve at, before. President Clinton’s cabinet, sub-cabinet, and white house senior staff
were truly diverse, and included women, gays, physically disabled and minorities. There were more than 100 women
and men of color on just the white house staff - at every level. No president before him had come close to that.
All of the presidents combined hadn’t come close. Bill Clinton raised the bar for presidents that come behind him,
and changed American politics forever in creating an administration that truly “looked like America…all of America.”
And, in spite of that very difficult two years in American politics; those were an amazing eight years. Bill Clinton
remains a brilliant, compassionate, charismatic anomaly, who has now turned his amazing energies to the AIDS crisis
in Africa, the Caribbean, and other third world countries. There may never be anything to match the excitement of
living in the middle of that fish bowl called the west wing of the white house; the opportunities to learn the
intricacies of a world that was closed to 99.9% of the people in the country. The chance to meet amazing people and
leaders from all over the world, including your own Prime Minister Blair, President Mandela, Muhammad Ali, Michael
Jordan, Bono, the West Wing cast, André Agassi and the amazing Serena Williams…and, even people who are no longer
with us, like John F. Kennedy Jr., and Princess Di during their visits to the white house.
It was an amazing life, and an amazing time. My home is filled with photos and white house mementos – memories of a
time that even now – three years later – is still sometimes hard to imagine really happened. That time in my life,
though, is a true representation of the importance of dreams and opening yourself up to what dreams might bring you
– if you’re ready for them.
Now, I’d like to briefly share with you, a few things I’ve learned during my journey…as a woman, and, as an African
American. While there is no guarantee of success, no matter how we prepare…I do believe there is a recipe for personal
success…no matter what your vocation, no matter what path in life you choose. These same ingredients, I’m convinced,
have been used by other great women across the continents throughout the centuries – women whose shoes you will one day
fill:
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The number one ingredient is a quality education. I learned this lesson from two incredible human
beings – James and Ethel Kearney, two under-educated sharecroppers who were visionary enough to know that a solid education
was our key out of the Arkansas cotton fields. So, it was my parents, and in many ways, my heritage as heir to slavery,
that embedded in me, the importance of an education.
- The next most important ingredient…and we touched on this a bit already…Is the power of dreams
– and, the importance of being prepared when those dreams come true. I can’t tell you who or what I might be, today,
had I not carried with me every step of the way, my bag full of dreams. I never left them behind…dreams from childhood,
dreams from my years as a teen, as a college girl, and as an adult. I never thought of throwing my dreams away, once I’d
achieved one goal. And, I never will. I have always believed in the power and the value of dreams.
It was my dreams that led me into a world of writing and communication, and to amazing places, amazing experiences, and
opportunities to meet amazing people. Never, ever, ever give up on your dreams.
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The third ingredient would have to be: faith in a higher power. It doesn’t matter what your faith,
or how you perceive your deity. The important thing is having some thing, or some being greater than you; that sense of
completeness, and security we all need, and increasingly so, in this ever-increasingly unsafe world.
- Support groups: it has been scientifically decided that women need support groups. We are a group-oriented
species. Though, as a writer I spend most of my time alone, when I am not in my writing mode, I very often seek out the
company of women, particularly women who think and act and do. Being around other women has this magical power of giving
us a sense of empowerment. There is nothing else like it.
But, support groups don’t have to mean career women – or women who have “it all.” Your support group could be your sisters,
your family, your best friends, or teachers…most important, are people who care, and people who allow you to share.
When it comes to unconditional support from people who understand my plight – I always depend on women.
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Persistence is the key, friends, to whatever you dare to achieve. Back in the states, there’s this gospel song
that was very popular during the last couple of years, called, A Saint is just a Sinner, and basically it concedes that we
are all sinners, first; but a saint is also a sinner, who falls down, and gets up. That, my friends, is the most telling
difference between success and failure. Those who will ultimately succeed, are those who will get up after each fall, over
and over, no matter what. My journey that has been so very amazing, has also included a whole lot of mistakes and errors,
and false starts. I’ve fallen on my face many times, but, you know what? I always found a reason to get back up, brush myself
off, and start all over again.
- Self Esteem. Women, I know you’ve heard this before; but, I’m going to repeat it…self esteem, which is the same
thing as loving ourselves, and believing in ourselves are so very critical to our personal success. Not only must we love
ourselves…but, we have to say “it’s okay,” if we decide that we want to be something more or different from what others think
we should be. In the end, it’s not what our parents, our children; our family, our husbands, or our significant others want us
to be – but, what we choose to be, that counts.
And, yes, there is certainly honor in being a good mother, a faithful daughter, a loving sister, and, a loyal friend…but, what
about what you want just for yourself? It’s okay to want…and to strive for success. What you’ll find, is that others can
accept you for what you choose to be…if you can.
Be kind to yourself, love yourself today…don’t wait until you are a multimillionaire; become a best-seller; own your own
building; or produce your own television show. Love yourself today – and, make your journey a joy-filled one. Embrace your
humanity, your frailties, your mistakes – because you’re human, and no matter what your station in life, or your chronological
age…if you’re still breathing, know and be happy that “God’s not finished with you, yet.”
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Tunnel vision. Have you ever thought of tunnel vision as a recipe for success? Take my word for it, as a writer,
and as someone who worked in the middle of politics for so many years; if you’re not able to keep your eye on the prize, your
journey is already ended. Tunnel vision is endemic to success. And, to attain success you will have to learn to ignore the
do-gooders, who know what’s best for you; nay sayers who swear you’re going down the wrong road – in the wrong direction; and,
the “stones in the middle of the road,” who block your progress -- ignore them, walk around them, or delicately remove them from
your path. For, in the end, only you know the direction to your success.
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America’s own wonderful Eleanor Roosevelt, the epitome of an independent woman at a time when independence and womanhood
was an oxymoron, said: “In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And,
the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.” We, as women must take responsibility for our own happiness and
our own destiny.
And, the other side of that responsibility, is optimism – looking on the bright side of life, and seeing the glass half-full,
instead of half-empty. And, after seeing the glass half-filled, taking the responsibility of filling it ourselves. Positive
thinking, expecting the best, and acting on what we see needs correcting, can add years to our lives, and guarantee our personal success.
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And, lastly, I offer you this ingredient for personal success: gifts, sharing, giving back is the currency of blessings. There
is no substitute for the gift of giving. We, all of us, are blessed with so many attributes, abilities, and material wealth. It would
be more than sinful for us to refuse to acknowledge our blessings, by sharing our gifts with others.
Gifts, my friends, are useless if we only accept them and place them on a shelf…to draw compliments…or just collect dust. Most of
us have more gifts, and more people in our lives to be thankful for, than we can count on two hands. We, each, have to find our own
way to give back, to share our gifts with the world, no matter what they may be: singing, writing, editing, teaching, tutoring, coaching,
healing…I don’t know what your strengths are, but you do.
While I am blessed with boundless gifts and blessings; I believe the only way I can truly be worthy of these gifts is to give back, to
offer a return for what has been given me. One of our most sacred gifts as women, is our capacity to give, to share…
So, I ask tonight that you keep giving, certainly. But, above all, keep dreaming, and keep daring, for it is the dreamers and darers of
this world who are destined to change it for the better.