William
Raspberry set the gold standard among black columnist. He taught the rest of us how it’s supposed to
be done. Raspberry, 76, died on Tuesday
after a battle with prostate cancer.
I’ll
never forget first meeting Raspberry. It
was shortly after he was named the Knight Professor of the Practice of
Communications and Journalism at the Sanford Institute of Public Policy at Duke
University. Raspberry was introduced to
the community with a lecture. The room
was packed with people like me – those who write for a living.
It
was like lingering in the shadow of a great guru. His words offered me hope in what could be
mine one day. I listened as I took note of Barry Saunders, an impressive local
columnist, who relished the moment like a disciple waiting for the rite of
passage.
It’s
not often that one meets a Pulitzer Prize-winning syndicated columnist. Raspberry wrote masterpieces for the
Washington Post for 39 years and appeared in more than 200 newspapers. He
started in 1966 under the title Potomac
Watch before using his own name. Rather
than write about the obvious, the Washington DC political scene, Raspberry
focused on crime, poverty, education, violence, drug abuse, parenting, civil
rights and gay rights.
Raspberry
impacted the way I approached column writing from the beginning. My first column appeared in the Durham Herald-Sun on July 20, 1997. It
was my birthday. Before writing that
first column, I recounted the voice of Raspberry. He uncovered what others had missed. Like Raspberry, my work appeared in a white
newspaper. I felt the weight of an
entire community on my back.
Before
writing that first column, I reflected on the column Raspberry wrote in 1993
about the lyrics in rap music. “I wish their songs could be less angry and ‘victimized’
and more about building a better world,” he wrote. Every word of that column stirred an amen
from my soul. Something was happening in
the streets of America, and I could feel things getting worse as rappers spit
words with no thought of the implications.
I
wanted my words to matter. My desire was
to attack injustice with each word. I
hoped to inspire. I prayed to open eyes. I wanted my space on the Sunday editorial
page to evoke conversations regarding life among those with no voice.
Those
words have power. Sometimes we, those
who write columns, have to stand alone when we write. The challenge is in not becoming the tool of
any given group. Column writers are
forced to stand in the middle. Sometimes
that means we function with no place to call home. Home is our words. It can be a lonely place. Raspberry helped me understand that I was not
alone.
When
I faced attack from the leadership of the Durham Committee on Affairs of Black People
for columns that called into question their failure to move beyond the rhetoric
of race, I went back to 1989. I was
reminded that Raspberry faced criticism from NAACP officials and civil rights
leaders for a column that criticized leaders as dwelling on racism, rather than
solving problems facing blacks.
‘‘I don’t
underestimate either the persistence of racism or its effects, but it does seem
to me that you spend too much time thinking about racism,’’ he wrote. ‘‘It is
as though your whole aim is to get white people to acknowledge their racism and
accept their guilt. Well, suppose they did: What would that change?’’
The attacks from black leaders reminded me of my
own. Time after time I’ve been told that
I’ve been used by white people to expose what happens behind closed doors. Black journalists aren’t supposed to discuss
what happens in the black community.
Organizations like the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People
have a policy that forbids journalist to be in the room if their intent is to
write about what happens.
Raspberry, and all black columnists, endure the
tragedy of having to prove allegiance to the race. All while shifting through the news. All while witnessing the contradiction
between what is being said by those who lead, and what is being done to repair the
massive problems in the streets.
I admired Raspberry for more than that Pulitzer Prize
he won in 1994. I respect being awarded
the Lifetime Achievement Award by the National Association of Black
Journalist. Those are on the top of
things I would like to achieve. As
impressive as all of that looks in the award chest, I needed Raspberry for
direction. I read him to help me endure
the constant attacks that come when those words offend those you respect.
It’s lonely standing in the middle. Raspberry stood with those who write. He did it with integrity. He never wavered.
You can’t bow to fear when God gives you a pen and a
place to share.
I’m gonna miss you Mr. Raspberry. I’m here because of
you.
All of us are.
He was truly a giant in his field, and a great man in addition. Always tough to lose someone of his caliber.
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