spring 2007 volume 3 aww!assets.ce.columbia.edu/pdf/scom/scom-aww-magazine.pdf · 2013-09-18 ·...

Spring 2007 Volume 3

ce.columbia.edu/stratcomm/AWW!Columbia University’s Strategic Communications Program — Advanced Writing Workshop

FEATURED INSIDE:

3| Life After the Green ZoneNo one warned Lydia Khalil that returning homefrom Iraq would be as difficult, if not more so, thangoing there.

8| Open and Notorious FatherhoodMary Simmons has the DNA evidence. Why doesthe court refuse to consider it?

10| Who Says Bigger is Better?Working for a small firm can boost a public relationspractitioner’s career.

More ... >

1 AWW! | Spring 2007

AWW! is a publication of ColumbiaUniversity’s M.S. Program in StrategicCommunications — Advanced WritingWorkshop.Copyright 2006 - 2007

Course Instructor: Jane Praeger

Design & Layout: Crystal BuenoCopy Editing: Sara LorimerAuthor Portraits: Rebecca CastilloOther Photo Credits: iStockPhoto.com

Questions? Comments?Contact: [email protected]

About AWW! >

3| Life After theGreen Zone In May 2003, Lydia Khalilbecame the youngest per-son to join the CoalitionProvisional Authority inIraq. At 23, she was one of

the few female officials under 30 chosento advise Ambassador Bremer in settingup a new Iraqi government.

5| Outgrowing Lil’ KimBeing a responsible big sister had alwaysbeen Tamika’s job. Now, it was up toErika to look out for their little brother.

6| Nurturing a Love of NatureTed Gilman and Greenwich Audubon— hundreds of acres of wild space amidthe manicured lawns of backcountryGreenwich — are delightfully at oddswith the surrounding habitat of over-achievers and all their emblems of suc-cess.

8| Open and NotoriousFatherhoodMary Simmons has the DNA evidence.Why does the court refuse to considerit?

Features >

7| Invisibility, Evenin FebruaryNext February, instead ofthe company taking painsto proclaim political cor-rectness, I recommend thatevery white male supervi-sor be required to undergo VisibilityTraining.

9| A Natural ChoiceAfter years of taking med-ications that brought sideeffects, short-term results,and dependency, I graduallyshifted my approach tohealth. Today, I am a pas-

sionate advocate for the natural healthmovement. Instead of masking symp-toms with medication, I use alternativetherapies to stay healthy.

10| Who Says Biggeris Better? Why SmallAgencies Can OfferYou MoreWorking for a small firmcan boost a public relationspractitioner’s career in three ways: accessto senior management, involvement inhow the business is run, and responsibili-ties based on experience and abilityrather than age or title.

11| African-Americans andMarriage: Taking itOne Step at a TimeOn March 25, African-American organizations

around the country will observe BlackMarriage Day, celebrating the benefits ofmarriage and affirming their commit-ment to strengthening the institution.

Opinions >

We’re pleased tobring you the thirdedition of AWW!

Magazine, a publication thatfeatures selected work ofstudents enrolled in theSpring 2006 AdvancedWriting Workshop atColumbia University’sStrategic Communicationsmaster’s program.

This issue of AWW!Magazine includes featurestories and opinion pieces.People ask, “Why do stu-dents of StrategicCommunications need toknow how to write features?Isn’t that the journalist’sjob?” One answer is that fewthings move the world aspowerfully as a well-toldstory. If communicationsprofessionals intend to inspireand motivate audiences tofeel, think, and behave differ-ently, those communicatorsneed to understand what astory is and how to craft one.In fact, anyone who ever plansto give a speech, deliver apresentation, write a businessmemo, produce a newsletter,or speak at a professional con-ference should know how todevelop and tell a story.Stories can make ideas realand palpable. Writing a fea-

ture is one of the best ways Iknow to help students under-stand the concept of story.

AWW! Magazine alsoincludes opinion pieces, rang-ing from commentary onissues in the communicationsfield to very personal state-ments. In writing and re-writ-ing these pieces, studentslearned how to synthesize andorganize complex material;build, support, and articulatean argument; and write logi-cally and concisely. Several

pieces required deep,unflinching self-reflection.

The students’ first assign-ment in the course was tointerview each other and con-struct Q&As from the tran-scripts. In conducting theirinterviews, the studentslearned how to probe fordeeper truths while respectingthe boundaries of the personthey were interviewing. Inthe editing process, the stu-dents worked to identify anarrative thread, choosetelling details, and cut mate-rial that, while interesting,was less relevant.

The student contributorsare hard-working pro-fessionals who work

full-time and come to schoolat night. Our goal in the writ-ing workshop is to give themwriting, interviewing, andediting skills that they can usein their professions. But ourhope is also that the practiceof writing will make them bet-ter critical, analytic, andstrategic thinkers — skillsessential to both the practiceof communications and to liv-ing a well-considered life.

AWW! | Spring 2007 2

Few Things Move the World asPowerfully as a Well-Told Story

Introducing the course instructor

Jane Praeger

FFeaeaturture >e >


IN MAY 2003, LYDIA KHALILbecame the youngest person tojoin the American staff of the

Coalition Provisional Authority(CPA) in Iraq. At 23, she was one ofthe few female officials under 30chosen to advise Ambassador L.Paul Bremer and opposition leadersin setting up a new Iraqi govern-ment. Her adventure in Baghdadbegan with a hurried phone call giv-ing her only a few hours to packand get to Andrews Air Force baseto catch her transport overseas; itended 12 months later when theCPA was dissolved.

Lydia possessed a perfect trifec-ta of skills: an interest in gover-nance issues, work experience in theMiddle East, and the ability tospeak Arabic. While most people’spaperwork took weeks or evenmonths to process, hers was quietlypushed through in three days.

Despite all the rules and regula-tions placed on American personnelin Iraq, her team hit the ground run-ning. “From the beginning no one inmy office stayed in the Green Zone.We had to go out, we had to travel,we had to meet people. We had afleet of beat-up cars, and just fig-ured out our way around,” she said.“We were not allowed to go outwithout military escorts, but theywere so hard to come by and youhad to submit a request that oftentook days to process. So we justwent out on our own. As things gotmore dangerous, it was stupid [to goout unescorted]. But we felt we didnot have a choice. We had to go outthere and talk to Iraqis because wewere working on the political plan

for their government.” Her friendand former colleague in Baghdad,Olivia Troye, special assistant toAmbassador Bremer in Baghdad,recalls, “Lydia is very driven. Whenshe has her heart set on doing some-thing she doesn’t back down. Eventhough it got really tough there andpeople gave up, she persevered.”

Her team began their work byinterviewing exiled opposition lead-ers who had been contacts of the US

State Department and CIA. “Eventuallywe realized we could not talk to justthese guys. Many of them had been out-side the country for many years, someof them decades. They were not exactlylegitimate in the eyes of the Iraqi popu-lation,” she said. “We had to find peo-ple who lived in the country, who hadsuffered under Saddam, and who want-ed to work politically to make a differ-ence.” They made excursions into smallcommunities and sought out other seg-ments of Iraqi society.

At times finding anyone to inter-view was difficult. During SaddamHussein’s rule anyone opposed to theBaath party was driven underground.When opposition leaders were foundthey and their families were killed.

The fear of violence forced thegovernance team to be resourceful.“We had to be creative in terms ofsoliciting input. So we would talk tothe head of the political sciencedepartment at Baghdad University, wewould talk to religious leaders, and topeople who ran humanitarian organi-

Life After the Green Zone

By Shauna Wreschner

“We wouldget shot

at with mortars,but they didn’thave very good aimand usually didn’thit anything.”

No one warned her that returning home from Iraq would be as difficult, if not more so, than going there.

zations.” While the team strived tosolicit input from all aspects ofIraqi society, they simultaneouslytrained new leadership.

The most exciting and gratify-ing aspect of her work in Iraq wastraining Iraqis to govern them-selves. “[The Iraqis] began formingparties out of their own initiativewhile we were there and we wouldreach out to them. They were newat it, so we had political party train-ing — in democracy and leadershipinitiatives — to build them up,” sheremembers.

The violence continued toescalate all over Iraq, becom-ing a daily concern for

everyone connected to the CPA.Traveling with Ambassador Bremerto meetings meant riding inarmored cars, or caravans that wentroaring through the streets. Thesecurity escorts felt that speedingand weaving through the streetswas the safest way to travelbecause it threw would-be attackersoff-guard; Lydia hated the attentionit drew and much preferred to driveherself around in her beat-upToyota. Even the protected GreenZone was not as secure as itseemed. “The time I felt the mostafraid was when I was actuallysleeping in my trailer in the GreenZone,” she recounted. “We wouldget shot at with mortars, but theydidn’t have very good aim and usu-ally didn’t hit anything. We hadbeen told that if we were ever in adangerous situation to grab ourmattress, get low to the floor, andput the mattress on top of our-selves. I thought to myself, ‘Well,I’m not going to have to be in thatsituation.’ But one night a mortarwent off really close by. Next thingI knew, I was lying flat on thefloor, mattress on top of me. Mostof the time though, I told myself toget on with business and not thinkabout it.”

As Lydia was sleeping inbombed-out palaces in the GreenZone and setting up meetings

between Ambassador Bremer andIraqi opposition leaders, her friendsin America were going to schooland moving on with their careersand relationships. As her stay inIraq wore on, visits home becamesurprisingly difficult. “After beingin a situation like Iraq, you go homeand just don’t have anything torelate to anymore,” she said. “Thereare all these little dramas in peo-ple’s everyday lives that are impor-tant, but you are living in a warzone, setting up a country, andyou’re just, like, ‘whatever.’ Youcan’t really talk to people aboutyour life, either, because they can’trelate. Their eyes glaze over whenyou talk about it. You can’t blamethem — it’s not part of their reality.”

Lydia returned home in thesummer of 2004 and took therest of the year to come to

terms with her future. “I had to fig-ure out what was important to me,and what I was going to do next. Ihad a feeling for a while that thisIraq ‘thing’ was it, and I would havea hard time topping it,” she says.

Lydia’s career was not the onlypart of her life that was shaped byher Baghdad adventure. She met theman who would become her hus-band, Peter Khalil, in the GreenZone. “I had taken a break inAugust, and when I got back someof my colleagues mentioned,

‘There’s a new Australian guy whohas the same last name as you and wethink is also from an Egyptian back-ground, you should go meet him,’”she recalls. “He was working on set-ting up new security services in Iraq.We ended up working together on aparticular project, and it grew fromthere. Most of our life in Iraq waswork, and what little free time we didhave, we spent with each other.”

When the CPA was dissolved,Lydia and Peter returned to theirrespective homes. After five monthsapart Peter began applying for jobs inthe US so he could join Lydia inWashington, where Lydia was workingon her graduate degree in InternationalSecurity at the Georgetown School ofForeign Service. Peter accepted a fel-lowship at the Brookings Institute,which ended at the same time thatLydia graduated. Determined to bewith Lydia, he found a full time posi-tion in New York City and proposed.

Looking ahead as a newlywed andNew Yorker, Lydia seems almost wist-ful for the drama of her experience inIraq. “My life has always been aboutdealing with big changes in a shortamount of time,” she says. “If youtake a chance — take a risk — youhappen to get lucky sometimes. That’sthe lesson I have learned over the pastfew years. I feel like I have gottenlucky a lot of times.”

“After being ina situation

like Iraq, you gohome and you can’ttalk to peopleabout your life,because they can’trelate.”

Introducing the author

Shauna Wreschner


AT AGE 15 I ELECTED RAPsuperstar Lil’ Kim as mybig sister. I had a God-given

sister, Tamika, but rejected her for anumber of reasons. She was anaverage student, bought her shoesat Payless, and was way too confi-dent for her size 18 frame. Shealways tried to guide my actions,but none of her advice stuck and Idid what I wanted. Lil’ Kim, how-ever, had the specifics of someone Icould follow: she was stylish,petite, and would never be caughtdead shopping at Payless. Kim wasthe baddest chick.

In 1996 Lil’ Kim dropped herdebut album, Hard Core. As thealbum’s title implied, Lil’ Kimfocused on edgy, explicit raps withnear-pornographic sexuality. Mygirlfriends and I repeated lyricsfrom the album like our own ghet-to-girl anthem: “I used to be scaredof the dick / Now I throw lips to theshit / Handle it / Like a real chick.”

Lil’ Kim gave me confidence, asense of style, and affirmed my I-don’t-give-a-damn-what-you-think-about-me attitude. Even her market-ing campaign stayed true to the per-

sona by delivering a feminine MCin a bikini and oversized fur coat. Ifollowed her lead. I was a plaid-skirt, white-Peter-Pan collared,Buster-Brown-shoe wearing, preppyteen by day, and a sheer-chiffondressed stripper-impersonator bynight. My hair was a kaleidoscopeof colors. My extensions were solong I could have auditioned for thelead in Black Rapunzel. Tamikawatched in dismay as I turned awayfrom her standard of “good girl”behavior. “Good girls don’t dresslike that,” she would remind me.But I just rolled my eyes, silentlyinstructing her to go to hell.

A year after the release of HardCore, Tamika went through hell.During a mandatory physical thatwould have cleared her to participatein sports at college, her doctor discov-ered a lump in her back. That lumpturned out to be a rare form of cancer.The doctors tried chemotherapy andthen radiation, but the carcinoma con-tinued to grow. Surgery also failed,and the cancer spread to her spine. Atnineteen she was a paraplegic. Sheaged decades from the treatments, adisfiguring surgery, and months of bedrest. Sores that cocoa butter couldn’tsoothe ravaged her body. Her feetwere so swollen even the largestPayless sneakers wouldn’t fit.

And suddenly, my big sisterbecame my little sister. If she neededa wash, I bathed her. If she needed toget to the living room, I maneuveredthe hoist to pull her out of the bed andplace her in the wheelchair. If she hadto use the bathroom, I reached into herrectum and removed the waste shecould no longer excrete independently.

At 3:27 a.m. on August 20, 1997,Tamika awoke me from my sleep,called me into her room, and asked fora glass of water. I took a glass fromher bedside, filled it in the bathroom,and gave her the water. Her big browneyes peered at me over the huge oxy-gen mask that swallowed her face andshe uttered her last words: I love you.I told her that I loved her too, closedthe door, and climbed back into bed. Iprayed to God to send some help andwent to sleep.

She passed away while we bothslept.

In 1998, I was arrested for violat-ing probation. I had been convict-ed of drug possession a few

months earlier, and failed to adhere tothe terms of my penalty: two years’parole, no drugs, and no criminal

Outgrowing Lil’ Kim

Her big browneyes peered at

me over the hugeoxygen mask thatswallowed her faceand she uttered herlast words: I loveyou.

By Erika Perkins

FFeaeaturture >e >


continued on page 12

IF TED GILMAN WERE Abird, he would be acrane. His height and

long, thin legs lend himgrace rather than awkward-ness. The slight forwardstoop of his posture and hisblack-capped head with itsprematurely white beardcomplete the impression.But his alert brown eyes arewarm and human, and youcan’t help but smile at thesight of him. Ted — andGreenwich Audubon, hun-dreds of acres of wild spaceamid the manicured lawnsof backcountry Greenwich— is delightfully at oddswith the surrounding habitatof overachievers and alltheir emblems of success.

We can still see ourbreath on this early springmorning in April. The sun isjust gaining enough heightto warm our backs, but notso much that it quiets thebirds’ chatter. I am joiningTed on his morning dutiesand hope to learn thesecrets of his success. Likemany in Greenwich, he is a drivenman with a mission: rising beforedawn, working weekends, andalways thinking about his job. ButTed is not just another ambitiousfinancier or tireless entrepreneur. Heis a naturalist.

For the 28 years he has been atGreenwich Audubon, Ted has heldthe same title and job description:teacher naturalist. He educates allages about the wonders of nature.Most often it is grade school chil-dren on field trips, but he also offers

adult programs and trainsteachers. A glance at the cen-ter’s newsletter shows hisname next to topics rangingfrom birds, wildflowers, andnature in winter, to freshwater ecology, insect adapta-tions, and watershed and soilscience. Governed by therhythm of the seasons ratherthan the schedule of the com-muter train, Ted has foundsuccess and satisfaction in hiswork. “I am one of thoselucky people in the worldwho has people come backand say, ‘Thank you,’” hesays.

We start at a slow pacedown the trail, a path mowedin the meadow last fall.Bright green spears are begin-ning to lift the tangled strawcarpet of last year’s golden-rod and asters. Miles of trailsloop through the 225 acres ofthe Audubon Center ofGreenwich, part of 650 acresof open space owned here byNational Audubon. But thishilltop meadow, the appleorchard sloping downhill, andthe frog pond at its base arethe heart of the property and

its education programs. When Ted teaches he is more like-

ly to be asking questions than labelingthings. He doesn’t give kids a list ofbirds to find. He asks them to find abird flying a particular way, or onewalking up a tree trunk, or to describeand make up names for the birds theyspot. He teaches them to discover,observe, and describe. “Darwin didn’thave a field guide when he landed onthe Galapagos Islands, and look what

TED GILMAN:

Nurturing a Love of NatureBy Ann Sawyer

“Kids neednature. It’s

a source of inspi-ration, excitement,and adventure. Itprovides drama,memories, and sto-ries.”


FFeaeaturture >e >


Opinion >Opinion >


LAST MONDAY MORNING ATwork I entered the kitchen formy daily cup of coffee and

saw John,* our marketing VP.“Good morning!” I said cheerily.John barely nodded in my direction.Actually, the nod could’ve just beenhim inhaling the cup of Vermontblend coffee he’d just poured — itwas hard to tell.

Telling myself John just wasn’tin a talkative mood this morning, Iwent to the refrigerator. Momentslater, when Bill entered the kitchento get himself a cup of FrenchVanilla blend, good mornings andmany other pleasantries wereexchanged between the two —with never a glance at me. I saidgood morning to Bill as well, andhe too decided to sniff his coffee inresponse. Hello? Can anyone seeme?

I wish I could say this was arare occurrence, but at the companywhere I’ve worked for some timenow, it happens all the time. I feelinvisible in kitchens. Hallways.Conference rooms. Elevators. It isas though someone has dressed mein a cloak, lined with the magicalpower to walk unnoticed past everywhite male manager, supervisor,director, or vice president that Iencounter. But I never asked for thiscloak of invisibility. I want recogni-tion. Conversation. Acceptance.

Instead I get subtly snubbed, insmall ways that scream “BlackFemale: you are not welcome here.”Recently, during our departmentmeeting, I chimed into a conversa-tion my boss was having with ourvice president of sales, Bill, about aproject I worked on. And what didBill do? He continued speaking as

though I were inaudible as well asinvisible. I felt about as tall as thecarpet on the conference room floor.

Then there are times when ourunit’s president briskly walks downcubicle row where I sit among mycohorts. His speedy footsteps signifythat he’s in a rush, but he still man-ages to say “How are you?” toeveryone he passes. Everyone butme. I’m not visible. What I am, onthese occasions, is confused. Whydo I even bother coming to workthere everyday? I’m frustrated that Icontinue to experience these blatantsnubs, and angry at myself for hav-ing unwavering dedication that con-tinually goes unrecognized.

During Black History month,when posters and e-blasts proclaimmy corporation’s dedication to zerotolerance for discrimination, I growincreasingly angry. Where is thiszero tolerance? And how dare thiscompany tout that it celebratesBlack History when its most seniormanagers cannot manage to eke outa “good morning” to the company’sblack employees?

Invisibility, Even in FebruaryBy Janessa Hoyte

I am, on theseoccasions, con-

fused. Why do Ieven bother com-ing to work thereeveryday? I’m frus-trated that I con-tinue to experiencethese blatant snubs,and angry at myselffor having unwa-vering dedicationthat continuallygoes unrecognized.

* All names in this piece have been changed.continued on page 14

MARY SIMMONS KNOWS WHOher deceased father was.She has the DNA evidence

to prove it. He died without a will,which means that his assets automat-ically go to his next of kin. So whycan’t she inherit his estate?

Anthony Miller* abandonedMary’s mother while she was preg-nant. He never formally acknowl-edged Mary, so after his death shehad to go to court to prove he washer father. Because of an obsoletelaw that favors witnesses’ statementsabove DNA evidence, she has notyet been able to have him legallydeclared her father.

Her primary battle is with herfather’s girlfriend and his survivingbrother, who are denying that she isher father’s daughter. Her proof liesin a recent DNA test, which cameback with a 99.9% positive resultthat she has the same DNA as Miller.She soon discovered, however, thatthe DNA evidence was not enough.An old but still binding New YorkState law declares that a child hasthe rights to the estate of her fatherif “paternity has been established byclear and convincing evidence andthe father of the child has openlyand notoriously acknowledged thechild as his own.” Unfortunately forMary, the best witnesses who couldcredibly testify that Miller is indeedher father — her mother, who diedin 1998, and Miller’s other brother

— are no longer alive.Mary is now waiting for the court

to set a date for the “open and notori-ous” hearing, which will allow herfriends and extended family to testifythat she is Miller’s daughter. Eventhough she has DNA evidence, thecourt needs verbal statements. Maryis trying to set a precedent in theestate courts, howev-er, that will deemthese testimoniesunnecessary for caseswhere there is DNAevidence.

Mary, 35, hasworked at the samecompany for over tenyears. She lives alonecomfortably in thesame town where shegrew up: Brewster,New York, in a pre-dominantly Italian-American neighbor-hood. Her mother

worked hard to support the two ofthem, never receiving support fromMary’s father.

Mary says she first realized thather family was different when herkindergarten class made Father’s Daycards for their dads. “I went homeupset because I didn’t know who tomake mine for,” she says.

When she was 25, Mary was sort-ing through some papers in her apart-ment and came across a letter writtento her mother with her paternaluncle’s return address. The uncleapologized for the way that his broth-er had walked out on them. Mary,surprised by the sincerity of letter,wrote to her newly-found uncle toask if he could arrange a meetingbetween her and her father.

Mary met her father for the firsttime a few months later, in a diner inCarmel. It was awkward, she says,but at least he showed up — and paidfor her lunch.

“He told me how much I lookedlike him,” she says, “and he said hewas ashamed of himself for not stay-ing around.”

He vowed to tell his current girl-friend about Mary, and said he wouldkeep in touch from then on.

She never heard from him.“I actually believed him when he

told me he would call,” she says.“This made me feel rejected all overagain.”

Open and NotoriousFatherhoodAbandoned Daughter Sues for theRights to Deceased Father’s Estate

The accidentand his death

set into motion aseries of legal bat-tles. Mary soondiscovered thatDNA evidence wasnot enough.

* All names in this feature have been changed toprotect the indivduals’ privacy.

By Jenny Pearson

FFeaeaturture >e >



Opinion >Opinion >


FOR YEARS, MY MEDICINEcabinet was overcrowdedwith orange and yellow

plastic bottles bearing fadedexpiration dates. Referralnotices to allergists, oncolo-gists, nutritionists, and psychol-ogists covered my refrigerator.After years of taking medica-tions that brought side effects,short-term results, and depend-ency, I gradually shifted myapproach to health. Today, I ama passionate advocate for thenatural health movement.Instead of masking symptomswith medication, I use alterna-tive therapies to stay healthy.

The beginning of my con-version to the natural healthmovement began ten years agoon a romantic evening with my hus-band, when he suddenly withdrewhis hand from my left breast andsaid, “Honey, you need to get thatchecked.” He discovered an almond-sized cyst, possibly a tumor. For thenext three weeks before my surgery,my mother, aunt, cousins, girlfriends,and husband all pondered the out-come of the biopsy.

One week after surgery my doc-tor called with the test results.Luckily, the tumor was benign.Within weeks, only a small pink scarresembling a line of smudged lipstickremained.

The next year my Aunt Helen,who never smoked, died of lung can-cer at age 62. At a family gatheringAunt Lil reminisced about my UnclePete, who had died of pancreatic can-cer in his forties. Two years laterAunt Lil was diagnosed with coloncancer. After surgery and chemother-apy she was free of cancer, but theprevalence of the disease in my fami-ly began to worry me.

The prayer card of St. Francisfrom Aunt Helen’s funeral stared atme from my bedroom mirror. I wor-ried that I would suffer the same fateas my aunt, but refused to believethat my genes doomed me. Soon mybookshelves were crammed withbooks about alternative health, herbs,yoga, vegetarianism, acupuncture,and massage therapy.

At that time I was dependent onantihistamines because of allergies todust, pollens, and cats. One afternoonwhen the pollen count was soaring,my girlfriend and I went to theBarnum & Bailey Circus. When thelions and elephants came into thering, I started coughing and wheezingviolently. I felt like the elephantwalked into the audience and sat onmy chest. Gasping for breath, I dart-ed out of the theater and called myallergist. He prescribed an asthmainhaler and cautioned me to “carry itat all times.” I worried that I wouldbecome dependent on the inhaler, andI was frustrated because the allergyshots seemed to be doing nothing.

That Monday I called a naturopath-ic doctor who specialized in allergies.In spite of my own doubts, and theskepticism of friends and family, I fol-

lowed her recommendations andeliminated all dairy productsfrom my diet. I kept a food diaryto understand which foods wereirritating me, and reduced myintake of refined white flourproducts and sugars. I completedher one-week detoxification fastof carrot, celery, apple, andspinach juices. I then followed asix-week vegetarian diet of rawand steamed vegetables, wholegrains, and fruits. I still try notto eat mucus-forming foods suchas meat, dairy, and refined whiteflour more than twice a week.Occasionally I still have mildallergy symptoms, but I nolonger take any allergy medica-tions or use the inhaler.

Last year I discovered a newcyst in the same place as the lip-stick smudge scar. This time itfelt like a hard and roundmacadamia nut. Before I would

allow the doctor to slice into my fleshto resurrect the scar, I consulted a natur-opathic doctor for a second opinion.The naturopath explained that “under-wire bras could restrict lymph flow, andcongested lymph can form cysts.” I fol-lowed his detoxification plan. I pluggedmy nose and drank his herbal remediesthree times a day. I went braless athome. I drank thirty-two ounces dailyof fresh carrot and celery juice. Aftersix weeks on this plan the cyst meltedinto my memory, and the surgeon’sbusiness card hides tucked away in myaddress book.

These successes with alternativetherapy convinced me to continue tochoose herbs over pills and diet oversurgery. After years of sifting throughthe maze of medicine, I discovered thatthe key to health is not found only inthe medicine chest or doctor’s office,but also in a natural lifestyle of wholefoods, herbs, exercise, fresh air, andsunshine.

By Claudette Hussey

A Natural Choice

IMOVED TO NEW YORK CITY ANDbegan working at a large andreputable public relations firm

five days after I graduated from col-lege. I thought I had truly arrived.

One month into my job, thepresident of the firm gathered all ofthe junior staff into the conferenceroom for a meeting. My new friends— all young and ambitious likemyself, trying to look professionalin what our teeny salaries could buyus at the Gap — felt butterflies ofanticipation for our first encounterwith such a respected leader in ourfield.

“If you want to be an executivein this company, I suggest you leavehere, go out, and get some experi-ence,” he told us. “Come back in afew years and bring me some busi-ness.”

As my heart sank in my twenty-dollar shirt, I began planning mystrategy to leave. I wanted to workfor a firm that would value not onlyme, but all employees. I accepted aposition at a smaller agency twoweeks shy of my one-year anniver-sary.

I now work at a small firm —

only 24 employees — which spe-cializes in marketing communica-tions. The contrasting size of thetwo agencies has taught me thatworking for a small company canboost a public relations practition-er’s career in three ways: access tosenior management, involvement inhow the business is run, and respon-sibilities based on experience andability rather than age or title.

In my current job, I have directcontact with the firm’s two partners.We all sit in a loft with no barriersbetween us, which creates an ami-cable atmosphere of teamwork. Ican ask questions, brainstorm ideas,or share good news with the part-ners just as easily as I can with thecolleague sitting next to me. Justthis week, one of the partners cameby my desk for twenty minutes toask about the projects I was work-ing on and offer praise and support.The beauty of the smaller companyis that our partners can give thatkind of attention to all employees.

By contrast, mymanager at thelarge companywhere I started mycareer began ourvery first meetingtogether by tellingme that she simplydid not have time toanswer my ques-tions or provideguidance. Instead,she insisted that I“figure it out.”

A second ben-efit of working fora small shop is theopportunity formore responsibility,both when workingwith clients and

within the agency. Our two partnersrecently asked me to prepare a presen-tation on the best practices I hadlearned from other agencies. The pur-pose was to share procedures or poli-cies that might help our business. Thispresentation offered a bonus opportu-nity: I was asked to manage the newinternal programs we decided toimplement. This experience is com-pletely different from that of a friendof mine who works at a larger firm.He is older than me and is still told hecannot be a part of agency planningmeetings because of his level in thecompany.

This leads to the best aspect ofworking at a small firm: the lack ofhierarchy and structure. At the smallagency where I work, there is certainlyan unspoken understanding aboutwhere every colleague falls on theorganizational chart and which execu-tives are in the position to make final

Who Says Bigger is Better?Why Small Agencies Can Offer You MoreBy Hillary Tolle

Idecided that Iwas going to

find a way to lever-age and enhancemy skills based onmy ability, not mytitle.


Opinion >Opinion >


Opinion >Opinion >


ON MARCH 25, AFRICAN-American organizationsaround the country will

observe Black Marriage Day, cele-brating the benefits of marriage andaffirming their commitment tostrengthening the institution.

Black Marriage Day is the signa-ture event of Wedded Bliss, a foun-dation created by Nisa IslamMuhammad, a correspondent for theNation of Islam’s The Final Callnewspaper. Wedded Bliss, she says,was “born out of the knowledge thatmarried people live longer, have bet-ter health, earn more money, accu-mulate more wealth … and have hap-pier, more successful children.”

Wedded Bliss’s intentions soundsensible. While a third of allAmericans between the ages of 24and 34 have never been married,more than half of African-Americansin the same age group have nevermade that trip to the altar. From 1960to 1995, the number of black chil-dren living with two married parentsdropped from 75 percent to 33 per-cent.

Wedded Bliss, however, is mis-guided in its mission. The organiza-tion is attempting to solve society’slarger social issues through marriage.

Marriage is a social contractbetween two individuals, unitingtheir lives legally, economically, andemotionally. It is not a cure-all forpoverty. It does not endow the partiesof the contract with better education,safer streets, or improved healthcare.

We need to set aside the notionthat marrying people will instantlychange lives and uplift all African-Americans. We need to nurturehealthy people and families, who canthen go on to create healthy neigh-borhoods and (eventually) healthy

marriages. By becoming profession-als first — doctors, educators,lawyers — these people can continueto give back to society.

“The Marriage Cure,” an articlewritten by Katherine Boo for TheNew Yorker in 2003, illustrates thepervasive misguided mentality manyblack people have. The article chroni-cles the lives of two single blackwomen in a housing project inOklahoma who have enrolled in agovernment-sponsored class to help

them get — and stay — married. As thereader follows the two women, it quick-ly becomes clear that marriage, which issomething that both women welcome,will not solve their immediate prob-lems, ranging from securing collegetuition to putting food on the table eachnight. Yes, “two parents means two pay-checks,” as one of the women put it.But, as the writer concludes, “Kim’sexperience with males, like that of theother women in the class, pointedtoward a more complex calculation …

African-Americans and Marriage:Taking it One Step at a TimeBy Tiffany Townsend

relationships with men were oftenwhat stopped an ambitious womanfrom escaping.” This revelation isone of many throughout the story thatconsistently point back to the ideathat marriage is not what thesewomen need to get ahead in life.What women like these need is reli-able public transportation, access toadequate healthcare, and jobs thatprovide real growth opportunities.

One of the simplest and mosteffective ways to directly addresssome of our community’s socialissues and create needed change is toeducate and empower African-American women. A 2002 UN-HABITAT best practices brief foundthat women must play a significantrole in any effort to improve their liv-ing conditions. Although the brieflooks primarily at communities in thedeveloping world, this strategy of tar-geting women has been proven effec-tive at the local level in this country

as well. Count Me In, an American organ-

ization that promotes women’s inde-pendence by providing access to busi-ness loans, consultation, and educa-tion services, has been helpingwomen build their own business.These women then go on to help theirfamilies and communities.

Adrienne Simpson, an African-American, is a recipient of Count MeIn’s programs. The business she start-ed with her mother, Smooth MoooveElder Relocation Services, wasrecently selected for Count Me In’sMake Mine a $Million Business pro-gram, which assists women who havethe potential to grow their businessesinto sustainable million-dollar enter-prises. Today, Simpson’s companyhelps many senior citizens and theirfamilies across the South. Initiativessuch as Count Me In prove that wecan help strengthen families and com-munities — by helping women first.

Empowering women is one provenway to create real, long-term changethat goes beyond bringing a second pay-check or additional caretaker into thehousehold. This — not more weddings— should be our immediate goal.

activity. After my arrest I spenteleven days in the county jail; I wasback there again within two weeksof my release. While being bookedI called home to inform my parents.My younger brother was on theother end and began to sob hysteri-cally. He had already lost one sister,and now he was losing me. “Whenare you going to stop?” he pleaded.I felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt.Being a responsible big sister hadalways been Tamika’s job, notmine.

It took Lil’ Kim four years torelease another full lengthalbum, and me just as long to

come to grips with my big sister’spassing. After leaving jail for thelast time, I returned to college witha new purpose. I was determined toshow my little brother he wouldn’tlose me, too. It wasn’t that hard.

College provided structure and clearexpectations: attend class, study,and earn excellent marks. Thecourses I selected absorbed all myattention and provided the perfectplatform for self-examination. Ilooked at my past behavior morecritically and analyzed the powerand drawbacks of a Lil’ Kim figure.My new focus paid off: I was cho-sen my university’s ThurgoodMarshall Leadership Scholar.

Lil Kim — the fantasy personaof music video culture who onceinspired me to utter pornographiclyrics — is less relevant to me now,but my heart aches for KimberlyJones, the real woman behind thecharacter. I saw her on TV today,and she was in rare form. Nodetectable weave. No acrylic tips.No million-dollar outfit. It’s thefinal episode of BET’s Countdownto Lockdown. She’s entering

Philadelphia’s Federal DetentionCenter to start serving the year and aday sentence she received for lying toa grand jury. Watching her, I’mreminded that reality comes in crueldoses like death and prison.


Tiffany Townsend

Outgrowing Lil’ Kim ... > (continued from page 5)


Erika Perkins



he was able to discover,” he says.But most of all, he is their partnerin developing what Rachel Carsoncalls “a sense of wonder.”

“Kids need nature. It’s a sourceof inspiration, excitement, andadventure. It provides drama, mem-ories, and stories. What is home toyou? Tell me what the landscape islike and where your water comesfrom. What does it smell like andhow does it change with the sea-sons? Kids need ownership of thesethings,” says Ted.

Ted’s long strides take us backup the ridge to our starting pointfaster than expected. As we walkback I wonder how he and thisplace can exist in one of the mostintensely consumer-driven,resource-consuming areas of thenation. Ted is optimistic. He feelsAudubon’s mission is to open eyesto nature, and that those of us whoexperience its joys first-hand willbecome active in its preservation.He has faith that, knowing theimpact of their actions, people willmake good choices.

Now within sight of the parkinglot, we are reminded of the time. Abusload of first-graders fromArmonk, New York has arrived.

They seem particularly wellbehaved, but also reluctant to detachfrom teachers and parents. Afterintroductions, Ted takes his group toa small, hard-packed section of lawndirectly outside the door of theCenter. Squatting in a circle, elbow-to-elbow, the children are asked tolook for light green and dark greencolors. Ted spreads Benjamin Moorepaint chips on the ground for refer-ence. There are comments aboutallergies, and the danger of rac-coons, and general fidgeting. Ted

then asks them to spot red and yellowin the patch. They refocus with thenew challenge. Then size and textureare explored; the frilly leaves of wildcarrot, the rubbery stalk of a dande-lion. Impressed by the diversity theyhave seen in such a small area oflawn, they are hooked.

“Let’s see what else we can dis-cover,” he says and strides off withoutlooking back. The first-graders, nearlyrunning to keep up with him, leavechaperones behind without a secondthought.

Governed bythe rhythm of

the seasons ratherthan the scheduleof the commutertrain, Ted hasfound success andsatisfaction in hiswork.

Ted Gilman ... > (continued from page 6)


Ann Sawyer

decisions. However, we are giventhe opportunity to create and imple-ment programs, deal with clients,and manage accounts based on ourability, not on our number of yearsin the business or our titles.

I decided that I was going tofind a way to use and enhance myskills based on my ability, not mytitle. Therefore, I am happy in mytransition from big to small. I maynot work at a firm whose nameeverybody in the industry knows

(yet), but I feel more professionallysatisfied than ever before. I recom-mend that any public relations spe-cialist who has not yet worked for asmall firm give it a chance. If youtake advantage of all the opportuni-ties a small firm provides, you willtruly “arrive” in your industry morequickly than you may havedreamed.

Who Says Bigger is Better? > (continued from page 10)Introducing the author

Hillary Tolle

Next February, instead of thecompany taking pains to proclaimpolitical correctness, I recommendthat every white male supervisor berequired to undergo VisibilityTraining.

Visibility Training wouldinvolve actual conversation betweenmanagers and minority employeesin a day-to-day casual business set-ting. This would increase the visi-bility of black employees, and ide-ally foster relationships between thetwo groups. Trainees would berequired to sit next to a blackemployee at the next conference,staff meeting, or business luncheon,and engage in at least twenty min-utes of chat. This would increasethe likelihood that in kitchens, hall-ways, and elevators, white maleexecutives would be more likely torespond to — or even initiate —conversation with the minorities

they have begun to see as valuableand talented co-workers.

This would be a far more effec-tive way of increasing blackemployee morale and feelings ofinclusion than just putting upposters peddling Black HistoryMonth. Events like screenings of thelatest African-American film, booksignings, and mixers are, to be hon-est, attended only by black employ-ees and the few HR staff memberswho are required to be there. Thatkind of atmosphere, while great forbonding among black employees,doesn’t help us be seen or acknowl-edged by our white male supervi-sors.

If they can’t see us, they defi-nitely cannot teach, mentor, encour-age, reward, or promote us. WithoutVisibility Training, we’ll just keepwearing our invisibility cloaks andkeep hitting that glass ceiling. And

Black History month will continue tobe celebrated for 28 days everyFebruary. Never mind our blackfuture.

In December of 2003, Marylearned from an article in a localnewspaper that her father had beenelectrocuted during a routine electri-cal repair at a factory in Putnam.

The accident and his death start-ed a series of legal battles. Herfather’s live-in girlfriend and onlysurviving brother both tried to blockaccess to Miller’s records, but hisDNA was finally released in late2005.

Because Miller died intestate,his assets should now be Mary’s.But since he was no longer alive andable to claim Mary as his daughter,she was left to convince the PutnamCounty court on her own. The DNAproved that she is his daughter, buther fight now is to gain its admissi-bility.

According to attorney Tom

Sutherland, “the burden is on theparty contesting legitimacy [his girl-friend and surviving brother] toprove no relationship exists,” hesays. “Under New York State intesta-cy rules of succession, when there isno surviving spouse, the survivingchild takes the entire estate.” It is upto the court in Putnam County, how-ever, to decide if Mary can submitthe DNA evidence.

If she does win access to hisestate, which includes a paymentfrom the insurance company for hisfatal accident, the money will be“life changing.” She continues, “Iwon’t be able to quit my job, but I’llprobably be able to buy a home andlive more comfortably.”

Mary is still as determined aboutthe case as she was when it allbegan. When asked why she contin-

ues to fight such a long battle, sheexplains that her father “walked awayfrom his responsibility. It’s as if he’sgetting away with it all over again.”

Invisibility ... > (continued from page 7)


Janessa Hoyte

Open and Notorious Fatherhood ... > (continued from page 8)


Jenny Pearson


spring 2007 volume 3 aww!assets.ce.columbia.edu/pdf/scom/scom-aww-magazine.pdf · 2013-09-18 ·...

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