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Who are these emergents with such laudable competencies and
what can we learn from their lives as they go about the
business of leading in these troubled but changing times?
What values inform their leadership styles and how do their
experiences contribute to their unique capabilities and
shape their identity and self-awareness?
One common theme among those being profiled during Black
History Month is that they all have arrived at the pinnacle
of leadership by being baptized by “trials of fire” rather
than by delicate placement upon pedestals.
“When I came to Neighborhood Health Association (NHA),”
recalls Doni Miller, CEO, “we faced a number of problems
including the risk of closing. The IRS was poised to padlock
our doors the very day I started. Had it not been for Mercy
Hospital, who provided $15,000 in emergency funding, we
would probably not exist today.”
Since Miller’s arrival in 1992 the operation has expanded
from one and a half sites to eight free-standing, three
school-based and several off-premises locations. The budget
has also increased to $7 million from $2 million and NHA now
has 100 employees.
Yet it is the continuing struggle to be taken seriously as
an African-American female leader that Miller agonizes over
and contends most vigorously. “It is the clear issues of
where talented black women with expertise are disregarded
that are a real challenge,” she states. “White folks, black
women, and black males in particular, it seems as though you
can’t do enough to be credible on your own.”
“A clear example,” she elaborates, “was at a table in a
meeting when an angry white politician, as retaliation for
my pointing out that he overlooked people of color and their
quality of life in a hypocritical legislative policy,
pointed his finger in my face and said disrespectful things
as bad as you could say in public.
“A room full of black male clergy and community leaders all
sat around the table but said absolutely nothing. The level
of disrespect and silence was heinous. This politician would
never have allowed black men to disrespect white women like
that. I finally told him: ‘You must have me confused. I am
not your woman and not your wife!’ It’s not that I am a
crier or not capable to address my own issues, but as a
culture what values do we have that allow that to be done to
our women and what do we as black women have to do to earn
the respect for what we contribute? I get the sense that we
have to work harder and harder and still not get respected
at the end of the day.”
Respect and a social justice leadership perspective stand
out as the salient characteristics of this self-proclaimed
“child of the 70s,” who admittedly wore a large afro, black
turtle neck and defiantly raised the right fist of protest
during her undergraduate days at the University of Detroit.
“I miss the political activism and the taking ownership for
change from back then,” Miller reminisces. “It’s not ok to
accept being minimized. I miss our participation in those
struggles. But I also am inspired by the legacy of NHA,
started in 1969 by a small group of concerned citizens led
by Mrs. Cordelia Martin, who were tired of poor people dying
in emergency rooms waiting to get their medical needs
addressed because they had no money or health insurance.
This group had a will to start a volunteer clinic and that
legacy of service and aggressively trying to change things
has been handed down to me.”
Yet respect, competency, and a sense of justice alone are
not enough to maintain one’s sanity navigating local
shark-infested, male-dominated organizational waters where
it is often difficult to determine which discrimination –
racial or gender – African-American women are facing.
Miller’s eyes twinkle as she shares her coping strategy.
“Everybody needs a mentor and I have one. They don’t have to
be someone who runs a bank or necessarily has a position at
your level. They can be a mother at the church, who in her
wisdom can point out the best way to pattern your growth or
expose flaws in your decision-making process. Sometimes I
can just call Mama, who is 78 years old, and has never held
this level of responsibility but she keeps me focused and
helps me with critical self-examination and authenticity.”
“But most of all,” Miller, aware of society’s tendancy to
worry more about being politically correct than morally
correct, momentarily hesitates before sermonizing, “I have a
faith – not conventional but persistent; it is terribly
flawed but unrelenting – and I believe on God’s journey
because I’ve learned that I just can’t make it without
faith. In the early days the organization once struggled to
pay the light bill, but God worked it out. And back then,
when I would wonder how am I gonna handle all of this, but
God worked it out. Now I just look at what’s in front of me
and listen for direction and watch while God places me where
I’m supposed to be.”
Now fully emboldened and comfortable in using sacred
language, Miller concludes: “Each of us is here for
something that’s bigger than us. I believe that God has
filled Toledo with smart, talented people who have the
solutions for all of our problems, but it is WE who keep
getting in the way because WE don’t hear why we’re here.”
AMEN!
New Paradigms of
Power: African-American Women Walking On Water (part 1)
New Paradigms of Power: African American Women Walking On
Water, part II
Contact
Rev. Dr. Donald Perryman at
drdlperryman@centerofhopebaptist.org
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