The Tribune

ON the exterior they could not have been more different: she--almost-blonde, articulate, delicate of build, but strong of mind and voice, fiercely determined fighter through public speaking and the publishing world to shake up a world that slumbered in inequality among the sexes. He, a black man of average height, slight pouch, little interest in fashion, warm eyes that looked right into you, a fatherly figure, soft-spoken and kind.

She was American, he was Bahamian, and though their paths probably never crossed, they were more alike than looks or lifestyle could have predicted. Her name was Gloria Steinem. He was Neville Wisdom. They both changed the world. And they both died this week, leaving the world a slightly sadder place for the loss, but in a better place for their having lived.

Remembering Gloria

Gloria Steinem was sheer inspiration. In a decade when men looked at brilliant women like Bella Abzug--who fought for equal rights--and dismissed much of what she said because she wasn’t physically attractive enough, Gloria was beautiful. She brought glamour to a movement that should have been accepted on its merit, but probably benefitted from her appeal. Men didn’t mind listening to her so long as she kept looking pretty. And she took that hook and ran with it – speaking her mind day after day, fighting for rights and equal pay, marching, holding placards and drumming up support.

When she started Ms. Magazine, she transformed publishing forever. Before GS and Ms., magazines for women featured recipes and tips on how to bake the perfect chocolate cake or make the bed faster so you could have more time with the little ones. I look back and shudder at the thought that a new vacuum cleaner was once considered a luxury holiday present. The first cover of Ms. featured Wonder Woman flying through the air like Superman and the headline “Wonder Woman for President.” It dared to suggest that women earn money for housekeeping.

I was an active member of the women’s movement, head of the National Organization for Women (NOW) in my area. My then-husband led consciousness-raising groups for men in our living room. (He did have one or two good traits, may he rest in peace.) Gloria was an inspiration to all of us, and I shall never forget how she could motivate and inspire, as she did me. When she passed away last week at the age of 92, memories of how she inspired me to keep up the fight for equal rights came flooding back. Those were early days, days when the fight was often bitter and unrewarded, when we were jeered and booed and rejected, but we knew what we were fighting for was right and we didn’t give up.

Paved the way for Pia and Leslia and a female PM one day soon

I fought hard. I spoke up, but my voice was soft compared to the real heroes like Gloria Stenem, Bella Abzug, and Shirley Chisholm, who I had the privilege of introducing when she became the first black woman to run for the American presidency.

They were the early heroes who paved the way for our female leaders of today – women like Leslia-Miller Brice and Pia Glover-Rolle and JoBeth Coleby-Davis and Lisa Rahming and Michaela Barnett-Ellis, any one of whom could one day be prime minister of The Bahamas.

I wish I could have thanked Gloria, my inspiration, while she could have heard my voice and I would have reminded her of the day just talking about women’s rights took guts. You gave so much, you will never know.

Oh, Neville, thank you for Pauline

Two days after GS died, The Bahamas lost an unsung hero, Coach Neville Wisdom, the man who gave us Pauline Davis. What a team they were, the unassuming man who saw something in her and asked her family permission to train her. They must have approved or just didn’t bother to refuse and he began picking her up--with another prospective track athlete--in the dark, 4 or 5 in the morning, driving them to Goodman’s Bay, watching how they ran, coaching, constantly coaching.

He had to do a lot to fix Pauline’s run. She had learned to run sideways, carrying buckets of water from the public pump in Bain Town home without spilling it so she didn’t get a whipping while watching for the boys who were chasing her from behind, eager for a quick grab if they could get it of this girl who developed too early. He fixed her run well enough for the youngster from the most humble beginnings to become the first in nearly every hurdle she climbed – the first Bahamian to bring home two Olympic Gold medals, the first black woman and first Bahamian to serve on the World Athletics Council, a post she maintains in an honorary status for life now. Her list of firsts and achievements is so long it demands a story of its own, but it was her relationship with the coach that was the glue that held her together throughout her life.

I saw Pauline, my adopted daughter, minutes after she got the news.

She was crying almost uncontrollably and collapsed into my arms. “I just talked to him for more than an hour last night,” she wept. “An hour. He never said anything  … I didn’t know . . .how can this happen..my heart is so heavy now. I miss my Coach Dad. He made me believe that impossibly is not part of my vocabulary.”

She was crying too hard to go on. I continued to hold her as he had held her in his heart, and she in his, a special place that only a few of us will ever have the privilege of fully feeling.

Maybe, Pauline, he thought you were okay now. He would not have left you if he wasn’t sure you could manage on your own. Just remember him for what he gave you – the belief in yourself -- and those long runs on the beach before the sun ever rose.