[Congressional Record Volume 143, Number 19 (Thursday, February 13, 1997)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E271-E273]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
CALIFORNIA CIVIL RIGHTS INITIATIVE
______
HON. NEWT GINGRICH
of georgia
in the house of representatives
Thursday, February 13, 1997
Mr. GINGRICH. Mr. Speaker, I am pleased to submit into the
Congressional Record the remarks of five citizens given last night in a
tribute to Ward Connerly, the chairman of the recent campaign for the
California Civil Rights Initiative. These five people shared with us
their own personal experiences dealing with racial preferences. I would
like to recognize them for their courage in speaking out on such a
divisive issue.
Remarks by Janice Camarena
Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Janice
Camarena, and I am glad to be here to honor Ward Connerly.
The first time I called Ward's office, I wanted to find out
how I could get involved in proposition 209, and I was very
nervous. Here I was, talking to a man who was not only a
University of California regent, but also the chairman of an
initiative that would have a great effect on the future of my
children. Later, after I met Ward for the first time, I just
had to hug him--he probably thought I was crazy, but that was
okay with me * * *
Over the last year and a half, Ward has gone from being
someone I was nervous about talking with, to being a great
speaker whom I respect, to being my mentor, my friend and a
hero.
I met Ward at a very difficult time in my life. I was in
the middle of a lawsuit I had filed against the State of
California, challenging the racially segregated programs in
our community college system. I had been kicked out of an
English 101 class after meeting every requirement except
one--my skin was the wrong color.
On the first day of class, the teacher told me and one
other white female student that there was a problem, that
there were a couple of students who did not belong, that the
class was for African-American students, and that we would
have to leave. I later learned that this class was part of
something called the ``Black Bridge Program'' designed for
black students only.
What happened at school affected not only me, but my two
daughters as well. My first daughter was born when I was
sixteen and her father is white. The following year, I
married a Mexican man; he died two weeks after my second
daughter was born. From the beginning, I taught my daughters
that most people are basically good, that most people will
judge them by who they are as individuals, and not by their
color.
But when I walked into that federally-funded English class
and was ordered to walk out of it, I realized that I had
misled my children. I realized that my daughters would not be
treated equally--not by their government, their public
education system, their teachers or their counselors. And I
wondered what kind of future this country held for my multi-
racial children.
[[Page E272]]
My daughters had asked me if discrimination is wrong, and I
had always said yes, it is always wrong. After I was kicked
out of class because of my color, my daughters had new
questions--if discrimination is wrong, they asked, how come
your school doesn't know that? If discrimination is wrong,
they asked, how come our government doesn't know that? I told
my daughters that I did not have the answers, but that I
would find out.
The following semester, I enrolled in a non-segregated
English class and decided to write my research paper on
segregated programs. I found that we had two different
segregated programs in our community colleges--the ``Black
Bridge Program'' I mentioned before, and the ``Puente
Program'' for Mexican-Americans. These programs were closed
to everyone except black or Mexican-American students. I
thought: About nine years from now, both of my daughters
could be going to this same school, but one will be eligible
for a special program and one will not--and only because my
daughters have different colors.
I filed my lawsuit, and later I came to meet Ward Connerly
and work on the CCRI campaign. On November 6, 1996 I got to
tell my children what I had been longing to tell them for two
and one-half years. I got to tell them that big people make
mistakes, and that race-based policies were a really bad
mistake on our government's part * * * but because as
Americans we had stood and fought together, I told them, now
their government, their public education system, their
teachers and counselors had to treat them as they were
created, * * * equally.
I owe a big part of that to Ward. If it were not for his
courage and love for the human race as a whole, I would not
have been able to tell my children that.
In the very short time I have known him, I have learned
many things from Ward Connerly. I have learned the meaning of
dignity and integrity. I have learned the value of freedom
and equality. And I have learned never to take life, liberty
and justice for granted. Most importantly, I have learned
about the kind of person I would like to be someday.
To a man who has chosen to take up the fight and bear the
burden for the sake of our children, for the sake of my
children, I say: You have touched our lives and our hearts in
a tremendous way. And you will always, always be a hero to
me.
____
Remarks by David Rogers
Ward Connerly often speaks with reverence about early civil
rights heroes, including Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King,
Jr., and it is right that he does so. Indeed, it is Mr.
Connerly's frequent invocation of Rosa Parks that most
captures my imagination, because she has long been a
particular hero of mine.
Like Mrs. Parks, my friend Cheryl Hopwood, I and others
were forced to sit in the back of the bus, and forced to sit
there by deliberate, malicious and unconstitutional state
action. The bus in question was the admissions process at the
University of Texas at Austin Law School, and it was on this
bus that I--not unlike many others here and all around the
country--became a victim of affirmative action in the
virulent form of racism.
In her struggle to integrate the buses of Montgomery, Mrs.
Parks had the help of the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People. To its eternal discredit, the
NAACP did not see fit to help me. Fortunately I had another,
equally tenacious ally. His name is Steve Smith, and he is
the determined, idealistic and extraordinarily competent
young lawyer who took the place of the NAACP for me and my
co-plaintiffs. Steve uncovered the secret machinations at the
University of Texas that constituted what I have come to call
affirmative racism.
Unlike the old segregationism, affirmative racism--the
selective inclusion or exclusion of people on the basis of
assigned race or ethnic group membership--operates behind a
veil of secrecy, halftruths and even lies. In the law school
admissions case, we plaintiffs were able to expose the race
preferences of the Texas system, although we were not able to
achieve appropriate monetary redress--or admission to the UT
Law School according to individual qualifications based on
merit rather than accidents of birth. Sadly, following a
ruling in our favor in the fifth circuit, the university's
appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court resulted in a vague
statement of ``no genuine controversy.'' Meanwhile, the UT
Law School replaced its affirmatively racist admissions
process with one that has no objective standards whatsoever.
So affirmative racism can still proceed under the cloak of
vagueness.
Our exposure-without-victory experience demonstrates why
initiatives like proposition 209--the California civil rights
initiative--are so important to this nation's future. While
all of us stand upon the shoulders of the giants who
dismantled America's original racism, and are proud to do so,
not a few invoke the legacy of Rosa Parks and Martin King to
justify a perfidious agenda of deliberate race
discrimination. Ward Connerly stands with the giants, and
against the corrupt--and we should all stand with him against
the corrupt, until even the University of Texas is
colorblind.
____
Remarks by Valery Pech
Good evening, I am glad to be with you.
In August 1989, the small family business that my husband
Randy and I started lost yet another Federal highway
subcontract on which we had submitted the lowest bid. We
didn't like it, and we fought the decision. Six year later,
in June 1995, the Supreme Court ruled against the quota-based
decision-making used against us.
We celebrated our victory in Adarand vs. Pena, not least by
recalling that above the entrance to the Air Force Academy
near our home in Colorado Springs appear the words, ``Bring
me men to match my mountains.'' Always blessed, America has
been blessed most of all because it has always had men to
match her mountains--men like William Pendley at Mountain
States Legal Foundation, who argued our case, and men like
Ward Connerly, who matches every peak of the majestic
Rockies.
Randy and I are so thankful for what Ward Connerly has
done--not just because he had the courage to take the
discrimination issue to the people of California, but because
of the manner in which he did it. I don't know what is the
most impressive: The success at the ballot box, the victory
over the politics of hatred and division, or Ward Connerly's
mastery of the language in explaining it all. I don't know,
so you take your pick. I will say only that the Bible teaches
that if we speak without love we are only ``a clanging
cymbal.'' Ward Connerly's words were always of love, even in
an often hateful, vicious campaign.
Randy and I know what it is like to conduct such a
campaign. During our long fight, the most insulting thing was
the portrayal of Randy as a ``angry white man''--and not just
because Randy is the most gracious, even-tempered and
genuinely nice guy I ever met, although that's why I married
him! The ``angry white male'' slogan was insulting because
this battle was not Randy's alone. It never was and isn't
now. It is our battle, all of us.
When we started our company in 1976, we had more women than
men owners, all family except one close friend. We were told
many times that we should be certified as a ``WBE'', a women-
business-enterprise, and so qualify for our piece of the
quota pie. We refused to do that because we believe quotas
are wrong.
We didn't and don't want to be judged by the sex or race of
the owners or operators of our company. We did and do want to
be judged on the basis of the quality and timeliness of our
work, and the reasonableness of its cost. A good highway
guardrail is a good highway guardrail, regardless of the race
or sex of its builder--that's what we believe.
The battle we fought was Randy's and my battle for yet
another reason. Men, being men, bear the injuries and insults
of the business world stoically. Women are not so similarly
inclined. We women have seen the pain suffered when our sons
and husbands are judged not by who they are and what they can
do, but instead by their race--and we don't like it one bit.
If anyone is angry, it is we mothers and wives. As Ward
Connerly has explained, the so-called political equation of
people-of-color-plus-white-women, versus white-men, just
doesn't add up.
In my heart I believe that the greater sisterhood of women
of all colors rejects and repudiates racism, whatever its
course, on behalf of husbands, sons, and daughters as well.
As a mother, I am grateful to Ward Connerly for another
reason. I paraphrase Mr. Connerly in saying that we will not
pass racial guilt along like a baton, from our generation to
the next. We will not do so because we have the example of
how Ward Connerly conducted the CCRI campaign, and its
success with the youth of California. Remember, in a mock
ballot held before last November's election, California's
high school students voted 60-40 in favor of CCRI. What a
wonderful message of hope for this great country.
Mr. Connerly, you fostered that message of hope. Randy and
I salute you, and we thank you on behalf of our children,
Kendra and Ted. God bless you.
____
Remarks by Stanley Dea
Mr. Connerly, ladies and gentlemen, good evening.
My grandfather came to Chinatown, San Francisco, from
southern China in the 1890's. Later he moved to Arizona,
where he was followed by my father in 1914 and my mother in
1939. Those early Chinese immigrants all encountered
discrimination and bad treatment. However, my forebears
believed that America's bright hope for opportunity and
freedom far outweighed any setbacks and they had no thought
of expecting--much less relying on--racial preferences or
quotas to make their way. Despite ill treatment, in two
generations my family caught up with everyone else, due to
hard work, sacrifice and perseverance.
My family did not believe that equal opportunity means
equal results. I grew up in a Chinese home, went through
university, received a Ph.D. in engineering, and became a
professional engineer. In 1977 I accepted an executive
position with the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission, or
WSSC, a public water and wastewater utility in the Maryland
suburbs. From 1977 to 1990, I was director of WSSC's bureau
of planning and design, where I supervised approximately 250
employees. I saw WSSC's personnel and contracting policies
escalate into preferences and quotas. I took an
uncompromising stand for the principles of merit and equal
opportunity for all.
[[Page E273]]
In 1989, my department offered a promotion to a white
female, the highest ranking candidate. She declined, and my
superiors denied my request to re-advertise the position, to
broaden the pool of candidates. When I then offered the
position to the second-highest ranked candidate, a white
male, I was suspended without pay for five days for alleged
``gross insubordination'' in not hiring a minority and not
supporting the so-called affirmative action plan. After a
hearing, the charge was reduced to mere ``insubordination,''
but WSSC did not change any of its discriminatory policies.
In 1990, I attempted to fill another opening, determining
that the three most-qualified candidates were white males.
Because I failed to recommend a minority or female, I was
demoted. WSSC took away my office, secretary, company car and
all supervisory responsibilities. I was moved to a specially
created staff position, banished to the equivalent of
corporate Siberia, solely because I refused to discriminate
by using race and sex as the primary selection criteria.
In 1993, I filed a civil rights suit against WSSC,
represented pro bono by the Institute for Justice and a
private attorney, Douglas Herbert. I will always be
profoundly grateful to Chip Mellor, the institute's
president, to Clint Bolick, its litigation director, and to
Douglas Herbert for the magnificent job done in representing
my case, not only in Federal court, but also in the court of
public opinion. The lawsuit alleges that WSSC's retaliation
against me violated the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and
infringed upon my first amendment free speech rights. It
seeks an end to WSSC's quota system as well as reinstatement
and damages. The suit is believed to be the first challenge
to Government actions that punish opposition to quotas. The
case was tried in September 1995; sixteen months later, a
verdict is still pending.
Tonight we gather to honor an individual who has worked
tirelessly to dismantle the machinery spawned by the false
premise that we should use discrimination to cure
discrimination--a man who knows that spoils systems based on
race and sex imply that those favored are inferior and thus
stigmatize competent people as incompetent. Ward Connerly
knows that affirmative action doesn't work, that it is
morally wrong, and that it must be abolished. He stands on
the ledge of allegiance to ``liberty and justice for all,''
and on the principle of the Declaration of Independence, that
``all men are created equal.'' Because of his vision, heroic
courage and leadership on proposition 209, he has endured and
persevered against vicious ad hominem attacks. I am inspired
and greatly honored to offer tribute to Ward Connerly
tonight.
____
Remarks by Lou Ann Mullen
Good evening. I want to share the story of our family
because it shows how wrong it is when the government uses
race to classify individuals.
My family is a so-called multi-racial family. We are often
described that way, but I don't think of us that way. To me,
we are just my family. It's government that highlights racial
differences to keep families like mine apart. That is wrong.
In 1992 we are blessed with our little boy Matthew. When he
was nine days old, the Department of Protective and
Regulatory Services put him in our foster care, and each day
we grew to love him more.
Matthew was, as they say, something else. He would look out
the window and smile so big at his beautiful world, as if it
were there for him alone to view. He made all our lives
matter a little more than they had before. We told the social
worker from the department that we wanted Matthew in our
lives forever, but she quickly said: ``No, don't even think
about it. He is black and he will go to a black home.'' The
words still echo in my mind.
For the two years we had Matthew, the social worker and the
department searched for a black home. At that time, Matthew's
brother, Joseph, was in another foster home, In 1994 the
state finally found a black home for both boys, a family that
seemed to come from nowhere.
I'll never forget the day that Matthew had to leave. He
took the world we had come to love with him that day, except
for one treasured memory: His soft little handprint, which
had graced his window so many times when he'd look out at his
world from our home, the world he had come to know. That
little handprint was all I had to hold on to, and I wouldn't
let anyone wash it away.
Our family tried to return to our old life, but it wasn't
the same without Matthew. After two and one-half months of
grieving and wondering what he must be going through, our
phone rang. It was the department, calling to say that
Matthew's and Joseph's adoptive placement had broken up. The
family didn't want Matthew and Joseph anymore, so the
department put them back in foster care--but not with us!
We asked once more, ``Please! Let us adopt! Let us have
Joseph, too!'' We were told: ``No, it would be in the best
interest of the children to have a same-race home.'' If a
same-race home weren't found, they said, they'd put Matthew
and Joseph in a group home.
My pain was greater than any I had ever experienced in my
life. I prayed and asked God to please make it stop. God
answered, and led us to the Institute for Justice, which
helped us stand up to the Department and made them consider
us as an adoptive family. The department said they had to
quote-review-unquote for application, but hopes grew really
dim when we saw the boys on TV and in a newspaper ad stating
``Brothers need a loving home.'' The department advertised
even though they knew we could give Matthew and Joseph a
loving home.
The the foster family fell apart. The department needed a
place to put the boys, and they called us . . . but they said
they would place Matthew and Joseph only as a foster
placement, not an adoptive one. We were happy to have the
boys, but we knew that department was looking again for a
same-race family. We held on to each day with the boys,
fearing each would be the last. It was such a harsh
punishment for simply wanting to be a family.
In April 1995, the Institute for Justice filed suit. Only
then--finally--did the department agree to let us adopt.
I thank God every night for giving me the honor to be
Matthew's and Joseph's mother, and for the people at the
Institute for Justice. They gave a voice to our boys so that
other children might one day look through their windows with
a smile, secure that they have a family and love in all the
colors of the world.
I am honored to be here tonight, and I am proud to honor a
man who sees beyond color and who fights so that all of us
can be heard as individuals. God bless you, Ward Connerly.
____________________