[Congressional Record Volume 165, Number 130 (Wednesday, July 31, 2019)]
[Senate]
[Pages S5231-S5232]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
TRIBUTE TO DARREN WALKER
Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, on Sunday, May 19, 2019, I was honored to
attend the 218th commencement ceremony at the University of Vermont,
where my wife Marcelle was presented with an honorary doctorate degree
and recognized for her many years of public service. The commencement
speaker, Darren Walker, made this wonderful day even better when he
delivered a truly moving address. By recounting his personal story,
examining the challenges our Nation faces, and celebrating the
achievements of the recent graduates, Darren implored us to view our
differences as a strength and our division as a liability to our
collective futures. It is with great appreciation that I recognize
Darren for his commitment to social justice and thank him for sharing
such an eloquent and unifying message with us on that day.
As the president of the Ford Foundation, Darren oversees a $13
billion endowment and $600 million in annual grant making for
international social justice philanthropy projects. He has served as
the vice president of the Rockefeller Foundation, as the chief
operating officer of the Abyssinian Development Corporation, and has
spent more than a decade working in the fields of international law and
finance. Prior to all of this success, however, Darren was raised in
the humblest of conditions by a single mother in rural Texas, where he
attended public schools, and battled racism and homophobia, to set
himself on a path toward what he says is the great honor of serving as
president of the Ford Foundation.
I ask unanimous consent to have Darren Walker's Address to the
University of Vermont Class of 2019 printed in the Record. I encourage
all Senators to read these moving remarks, with the hope that we can
transcend our differences and focus on the shared values and
aspirations that unite us.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
Darren Walker Address to the Class of 2019, University of Vermont
218th University Commencement Ceremony Burlington, Vermont--Sunday, May
19, 2019
To President Sullivan; Provost Prelock; Senator Leahy and
Governor Scott; distinguished vice presidents and deans;
faculty and staff; and--most importantly--to the University
of Vermont Class of 2019: Congratulations!
Graduates: I know how hard you've worked to earn the
achievement we honor today. I also know your success required
a lot of love, devotion, and commitment from the people in
your life, who helped you achieve this major milestone. So,
Class of 2019: Please join me in thanking your parents--and
all of the family, friends and teachers who have helped you
on your journey. This day is about you--but it's also about
honoring them.
Today is special for many reasons. It's a celebration of
excellence--and of the promise your future holds. It's the
end of one chapter--and the beginning of another.
But today is also special for an additional reason.
You came to his magical community called Burlington,
Vermont, from different places. Different towns, and states
and countries around the world. You came to your degree by
different paths. Took different courses in different majors.
Even when you were on the same campus, you spent time with
different people, engaged in different activities. And after
today, you will go off in your different directions. To
different jobs, different cities and towns, entirely
different lives.
And yet, here we are. Together. And the fact that we are
together--at this time, in this place--is remarkable.
It's remarkable because this is a unique, wonderful moment
in your lives. But it's also remarkable because, in this new
digital world, we are too often led to believe that our
differences are reasons for division, rather than unity.
Class of 2019, this is a defining characteristic of our
digital era: Whether it's algorithms that segment and select
the information we see based on our previous clicks and
likes; or media outlets incentivized to confirm our beliefs,
rather than deliver facts that help educate us and make us
better citizens; or political leaders who rally the extremes,
rather than serve a common good.
As a result of all this, we jump to judgement--and
disagreement too often turns to dehumanization. We miss
opportunities to turn difficult and challenging moments into
teachable ones, from which we can learn and grow. We lose
touch with the shared values, and shared experiences, and
shared aspirations that bind us together in this country and
make us who we are.
My message to you today is this: It doesn't need to be this
way--and it hasn't always been. And I know this to be true,
from my own journey.
You see, many aspects of who I am as a person, as an
American, might be labeled as ``different.'' I am black. I am
gay. I live in Manhattan, that tiny island moored off the
coast, and a little unmoored from reality. And I spend much
of my time traveling across the country and around the world,
meeting visionary, courageous, resilient people fighting
poverty, inequality, and injustice. All of these things--the
things that make me different--define who I am.
And there are parts of my story, that equally define me,
that are harder to see, which also make me different.
I was born to a single mother in a charity hospital. We
lived in a shotgun shack in a small, rural community in East
Texas.
I attended public schools and colleges. I was in the first
class of Head Start in 1965,
[[Page S5232]]
received Pell Grants, and private scholarships.
As an African American growing up in the south, I certainly
encountered bitter racism. But I also benefited from enormous
generosity--from people who provided me with support, and
encouragement, and who believed in my potential.
You see, in spite of the differences I presented, and the
challenges I encountered, I always felt that my country, that
America, had my back. I had good people of good will cheering
me on and pushing me forward.
Indeed, my story is an American story. It's a story of what
is possible, of what can happen, when ``we the people,'' live
up to our highest ideals. And when we do fulfill these
ideals, the fact of our differences does not hold us back, in
the very same way that the fact of our differences is not
really what divides us.
Class of 2019: The differences among us and the divisions
between us: These are separate things. One does not
inevitably lead to the other.
We are different, yes. But our differences are our
strength.
Our division, on the other hand, is a liability--a
liability that has been exacerbated and exploited, I believe,
because of the corrosive, inequality that today is widening
in American society.
More than what we look like, or where we come from, or how
we worship, inequality is what is tearing our communities and
country asunder.
Economic inequality asphyxiates the very American idea of
economic and social mobility. It creates unprecedented wealth
gaps, sorting us into circles where we only engage with
people of similar means and perspectives.
Persistent racial and gender inequality cause the sins of
our history to infect the present and imperil the future.
Inequality helps explain the gaps between the experience of
rural Americans and urban Americans--and entrenches the
polarization in our political institutions.
And inequality doesn't just cause our challenges. It also
prevents us from joining together to solve our common
problems.
It undermines our hope for the future and erodes our faith
in one another. Because of it, we are less willing to trust
one another. Less willing to extend the benefit of the doubt.
Too often, we rush to judgement, assuming the worst
intentions of others.
Now, I'm not naive. There are people for whom hate, and
harm is the intention. From Charlottesville to Pittsburgh, we
have witnessed the painful, pernicious impact of hate. And
while there certainly are racists, anti-Semites, homophobes
and prejudice in America today, this is not the character of
who we are as a nation. Most Americans believe in ideals of
equality and justice for all--and in order for these ideas to
be realized we must stand up to emboldened bigotry.
And so, graduates: I ask you, I implore you, not to build
walls, but to build bridges and to build relationships,
because when I reflect on my own story, I know I did not get
here alone.
None of us have.
It was not the simple fact of my presence, or superficial
measures of diversity or inclusion, that led me to the great
honor of serving as president of the Ford Foundation, or to
the great honor of addressing you today. It was often people
who were very different from me extending their humanity, and
generosity, and their privilege to help me--leaving their
comfort zones behind; spanning a divide.
It was people I didn't know--or came to know only later--
who had faith in me, who invested in me, who sustained me on
my American journey.
My story is proof of what can happen when people choose to
transcend their differences, and build bridges, and build
relationships. You, too, are proof. And, on its best days, so
is this country I love.
America always has been the product of people choosing to
bind themselves together. Actively choosing. We are ``We the
people.'' We are e pluribus unum--out of many, one.
Because of our differences, we can ascend from cooperation,
to collaboration, to innovation. Out of our differences,
there is hope. Out of difference, there can be unity. Out of
difference, equality and justice.
And it's bigger than the United States. This issue
transcends boundary and geography. Out of many countries, we
are one planet--with one future.
Which brings me back to where I started: The celebration of
difference--and all of the possibility that difference
unleashes.
Out of many paths--out of many graduates--you are one
class. And while you have many careers and choices in front
of you, I hope you keep one objective in mind: To make this a
more just--a fairer world.
So, I ask you: What bridges will you build? What new
relationships will you initiate? What justice will you serve?
What will you make possible for someone else?
Many of the bridges you cross will not be physical
structures of concrete or steel. They will be relationships
you forge, through hard work and attention, respect and care,
listening and love. And the best relationships are those in
which you can be yourself and better yourself.
If my experience is any indication, this is especially true
of relationships with graduates of this great university. My
partner in life of 26 years, David Beitzel was a proud member
of UVM's class of 1980. He passed away suddenly in January.
David taught me so much about life, and our common
humanity. We were very different. We hailed from very
different places and backgrounds. But we found each other
despite those differences--and enriched each other's lives
because of them.
Relationships with other people--friendships and family,
professional, romantic, incidental and intentional--all are
essential, no matter how different we may seem to be. They
strengthen our empathy, our compassion, our humanity, and
widen our perspectives.
If we build bridges and bonds of connection, then when
injustice affects one of us, we know--deeply, personally--
that it affects all of us. When we bind ourselves to others--
when we recognize that our fates are bound together--we can
put the small things aside. We can make a world where stories
like mine are more probable, more likely, more common. We can
shrink the gaps of inequality and grow justice in its place.
It will not be easy, class of 2019. Justice takes time. It
takes work. It takes love. And it takes risk.
But I hope you find ways to build these bridges. I hope you
find ways to listen and be curious--to be present and
proximate. I hope you embrace difference--and reject
division.
Class of 2019: I know you will answer the call--and I know
the future will be much better for it. It's yours for the
taking and the making, as of right now.
Congratulations. Good luck. And Godspeed.
____________________