[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 157 (2011), Part 7]
[Senate]
[Pages 9540-9542]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                              TEEN VOICES

 Mr. KERRY. Mr. President, I ask to have printed in the Record 
the remarks of my friend Donna Brazile at the 20th anniversary 
celebration for Teen Voices. Teen Voices is a journalism mentoring and 
leadership development program for teen girls which was founded in 
Cambridge, MA, and creates publications which reach hundreds of 
thousands of young women across the world. Donna's words do great 
justice to what a terrific program Teen Voices is as they celebrate an 
important milestone, and I believe this occasion deserves special 
recognition in the Congressional Record.
  The information follows.

                Remarks of Donna Brazile, April 14, 2011

       Now, Karen, I noticed that as soon as I started speaking 
     you turned the music off. It reminded me of a few weeks ago 
     when I was at the White House--let me start by bringing 
     greetings from President Obama, who's in Chicago tonight. 
     President Obama is having a rally tonight and he wanted to 
     know why I couldn't come to Chicago to introduce him. I said, 
     ``I'm going to be hanging out with Teen Voices and trust me, 
     I want to be in Boston tonight, Mr. President.'' But I was 
     invited a few weeks ago and some of you who are young enough 
     to remember the Motown sounds, the President invited me, and 
     it was one of those weekends when I wanted to see my sisters. 
     I have five sisters. So I said, ``I really need three 
     tickets.'' And he looked at me and said, ``Donna, this is 
     Motown. Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, John Legend, Arthur 
     Rees,'' and the list went on and on and on. So I said, 
     ``Well, alright, then give me four tickets!'' And he said, 
     ``Well I'm only going to give you one ticket. One for 
     yourself, and one for a guest.''
       Well, I have six sisters. I mean five of us and you know, 
     my brothers. I said, ``Please give me a couple extra 
     tickets.''
       He said, ``Sorry, you know, we have rules. And you cannot 
     get but one ticket.''
       So I waited, I called the next week. And they said this was 
     the public liaison office so they gave me one ticket. So I 
     called the political engagement office. I thought, clearly 
     they must have an extra ticket. And they gave me another 
     ticket! So I called my sister, Lisa, and I said, ``Lisa, you 
     can come.'' I already told my older sister she could come. 
     And then I have another sister. She's number--Sheryl, Sheila, 
     Donna--she's number seven! So I said, ``Dmitri, guess what, 
     you can come!'' So there were four Brazile women in the 
     house. So of course, we got there right before the 
     performances. And then they said, ``Well, you all have to go 
     back there.'' And I'm like, ``No, no, no. That's not right. 
     We don't care. Because we're going to dance.'' And of course, 
     they seated us way in the back. But the performers had to 
     come out. So as John Legend came out my sisters were blowing 
     kisses. They didn't want autographs (we're not into 
     autographs from Louisiana). We want hugs. So the Jonas 
     Brothers came out, and I whisper, ``That's Nick Jonas!''
       ``What! What! My daughter loves him! Hey baby!''
       I said, ``No, this is the White House, you don't do that. 
     This is a dignified place, this place has been here for 200 
     years.'' And so the night went on and on. And you know, back 
     in the day, for those of you who are a little young, every 
     time a new song came out--we had to twists and we did the 
     jerks. And then with Jackson 5--I want you back, I want you 
     back. So we knew all of the songs. Well, one song came on and 
     of course, this was a rendition of ``Dancing in the Street'' 
     and my sister decided this was her moment to do a dance that 
     I had never seen. And a dance the Secret Service had never 
     seen. So, the reason why, when the music started playing, I 
     just wanted to give you all a warning, if my sisters were 
     here, they would have come up with a song. So it's now like 
     midnight, and I say ``Girls, the President has gone up. I 
     know Stevie Wonder is still here, but we've got to go home, 
     so come on, let's go.''
       And my sister goes, ``Ain't no party like a White House 
     party, like a White House party don't stop.''
       I said, ``Where'd you all get that?'' And then the Marine 
     Band, who knew the Marine band could actually play jazz 
     tunes, and then she's teaching the Marine Band--``Ain't no 
     party like a White House party, like a White House party 
     don't stop.''
       The next day I saw the President, I was at a meeting and I 
     was trying to pretend I didn't know those women. I said, ``I 
     know Mr. President was taped so hopefully you can edit my 
     sisters out.'' Of course, when it was on PBS, they didn't 
     edit us out. Alright, my sisters--I just wanted to let you 
     all know if you go to the White House and decide to hang out 
     for a party or an event just remember--``Ain't no party like 
     a White House party, like a White House party don't stop.'' 
     But . . . I'm chair of the Democratic Party. My dad is 80 
     years old. I called him and I said, ``Guess what. I'm chair 
     of the Democratic party, one of the oldest political parties 
     in the country.''
       He said, ``It's a job.''
       I said, ``Well, but it doesn't pay.''
       He said, ``Well, that's like most jobs.''
       There are some perks and I took advantage of one of them 
     just a night ago. I just want to let everyone know a little 
     bit about it. And you know, some people want a car to drive. 
     Not me. First of all, I want a man dropping me off. So it's 
     bad enough I live one block from the head of the CIA and I 
     have to explain to people who visit me why the cops are 
     outside. I say, ``No, nothing's going on at the house. It's 
     the CI--wait, never mind--it's okay, just come on in, it's 
     alright.'' So no, I don't want a car to drive. That's too 
     tacky, that's not me. I mean, I'm a girl from New Orleans. I 
     can roll.
       So they say, ``Well, do you want a phone?''
       I mean, well, I worked for Al Gore. He created the 
     Internet; of course I want a phone. ``So what do you have?''
       ``AT&T.''
       ``No, no, no. Dropped service. I'll stick with Verizon.'' 
     And so they start listing all these other things, and I say 
     no letterhead, no business card, no office, no secretary, no 
     assistant.
       They say, ``Donna, what do you want?''
       I say, ``I hear you have tickets for the Easter egg roll.'' 
     And, I want to tell you this story because when I worked for 
     Bill Clinton and Al Gore back in the 1990s, I was involved 
     with the inaugural as well as the campaign. I went into the 
     office one day and they said, ``Donna, what do you want?''
       I said, ``All of the leftover tickets.'' Some people didn't 
     make it; they didn't sell all the seats, and so on. So here 
     you have rows of all the dignitaries all in the diplomatic 
     core, all these people from the government, all these people 
     looking good. And then you have rows of little kids. Rows and 
     rows. And that was me. I said, ``Absolutely. I'm going across 
     the bridge to Southeast, Washington D.C., and I am going to 
     give tickets out to kids, who like myself, their parents are 
     not rich. They don't have connections. But one day, one of 
     these kids, one, maybe one, will grow up and become President 
     of the United States.'' And I want to say that I gave them a 
     ticket. I gave them an opportunity. So when President Obama 
     won, and you all know I'm one for tickets--This is not my 
     speech, I'm going to get to my speech. But I just wanted to 
     let everyone know how I roll.
       And so, this is why, at my age of 51, I have 300 children, 
     don't ask me how I did it. I did it, I got 300, they are 
     really well taken care of, different daddies; it's a long 
     story. But when you've worked on as many campaigns--Karen 
     mentioned my 7 presidential, my 58 congressional, and my 19 
     state and local campaigns, I worked on campaigns in 48 
     states. I've lived here twice in my life, 2 more states and I 
     will become Miss USA. I've done a lot of work in my life, 
     okay? I mean, I've worked in Alaska, I was up there. I was in 
     Juneau. I've been to Utah, I've seen the mountains. So I've 
     been all over the place, but I still keep it real. I'm still 
     that little girl, that little girl who grew up poor. To a 
     mother who was a maid, a father who was a janitor. And I was 
     proud of my parents, my parents worked very hard. They wanted 
     us to have everything; they wanted us to have the best of 
     life. Sometimes, they couldn't afford it. But often times, 
     they would put a little away. That's why I tell people I can 
     wait. My mother used to say, ``It's a little away. How fast 
     you need it?''
       ``Tomorrow.''
       ``Oh, no, no, no. How fast you need it?''
       I'd say, ``Okay, next month.''
       She'd say, ``Oh, I'll get it out by next month, don't 
     worry.'' And then, my mother, or my father, would go out and 
     work an additional job or longer hours so that we could get 
     what we needed in order to be the people that we are, or the 
     kids that we wanted to be, the grown-ups that we wanted to be 
     as well.
       But, I would get my tickets, so my kids would come in, and 
     I'd say, ``Hey B.'' And by the way, I used to carry a big 
     purse. Whenever you see my carrying a big purse, I'm coming 
     after some tickets. That's not a bag, that's a ticket basket. 
     And I would walk into (something?) headquarters--you heard 
     the

[[Page 9541]]

     song ``Ain't too proud of the bag.'' I need it for my kids. 
     So I had 700 tickets from the President, and let me tell you, 
     everybody, every dignitary was hitting me up. They'd say, 
     ``Donna, got tickets?''
       I'd say, ``No I don't.''
       Ohhh she's lying! And then I learned how to, for my purple 
     ticket, oh so you want my purple give me 2 of your golds! 
     Why! Because my purple ticket gets you up front but you give 
     me 2 so think about it! I would get those big tickets so I 
     could get 5 smaller tickets so I could get more people in. 
     All I cared about was getting more people in. So I thought 
     about it the other day, because I'm always into tickets. I'm 
     a ticket person--so I said, ``How many tickets can I get as 
     the chair of the Democratic Party? I need my tickets.'' And 
     then I learned I got 10 tickets, I thought, oh thank you, 
     Lord, I got 10. Now you all know I'm starting at 10. Watch 
     me. Now the chair gets 10, how many does the Vice Chair get? 
     I'm still Vice Chair!
       And then I'm going to call my congresswoman, and then I'm 
     going to call the congress people from Alaska. Nobody's 
     coming here for an Easter egg hunt. And Washington State; and 
     you know you can always hit up California; you know I'm going 
     to hit up Kansas. I can't hit up Hawaii because that's where 
     the President is from. But I'm going to get my tickets and 
     you know, I'm giving them to the kids, like myself, kids who 
     have grown up poor, kids who need to be able, because they 
     live in Washington, D.C., to say that ``I went to the White 
     House. I was at the White House and I saw the President, I 
     saw the First Lady, I saw his two little daughters, and I met 
     Bo.'' That's the dog, for those of you who don't know.
       But I'm honored to be here with you, I had to tell my 
     tickets stories. Everyone who knows me back in DC calls me 
     the ticket lady. And I love tickets--not parking tickets--but 
     tickets. But it is an honor to join you tonight as you 
     celebrate 20 years. I've had some time to read up on Jenny 
     and all of the work that you all have done and have committed 
     to do. You are an inspiration. You have empowered millions of 
     young girls who not only read your magazine but those who 
     also contribute to it and those who want to be a part of it. 
     You are a source of inspiration and extortion of empowerment 
     and I want to thank the Board. I'd like to thank Lisa. I'd 
     like to thank all the sponsors and of course Denise and 
     Seema. And yeah, I've been checking out your shoes. They come 
     in size 11, baby?
       But I also want to thank you for helping young girls find 
     their voices and helping them amplify their message and 
     lifting them up. Your message is one of hope and change. I 
     want to say, I remember what it's like to be young--it was 
     just 2 weeks ago--the grey hair may throw you off a little 
     bit, but the truth is, I'm still 15 at heart. Now, notice I 
     said 15, not 18. Fifteen not 13. Because, I believe at 15, I 
     had a life-changing, what I call, experience.
       My grandmother, who took time to raise most of us, because 
     my parents were busy working, she got sick that year. And 
     throughout our childhood, Grandma was the rock; she was the 
     foundation in our house. My grandmother was from Mississippi. 
     She was the daughter of former slaves. And though she had 
     lived to see so many changes take place in her lifetime, she 
     had 12 kids. In fact, my daddy was number 12. My grandmother 
     had my father when at the age of 48--yeah I guess that's made 
     him the way he is.
       But my grandmother, in my judgment, was my role model. She 
     was my rock. She was my inspiration. I wanted to be just like 
     Ramon, because she knew everything. I would get up in the 
     morning at 4 o'clock--``Ramon, what are you doing?''
       She'd say, ``I'm soaking the clothes.''
       ``Well, okay.''
       ``We going to go hang them up outside.''
       ``Well, okay.'' I did that. At 5:30, she was in the kitchen 
     making buttermilk biscuits. As you can tell, I ate a couple 
     of them. They were the best buttermilk biscuits in the world. 
     She made her biscuits from scratch. But by 7:00, before we 
     went off for school, Ramon told me that I had to read the 
     newspaper with her. Her eyesight was failing. So I would read 
     the newspaper, from front to back. The classified section, 
     the sports section, and of course, I read the opinion 
     columns. I was excited to know what was going on in the world 
     and Grandma even taught me how to read the comics, and of 
     course, her horoscope--every day.
       But when Ramon took sick, it really changed my life. All of 
     a sudden, I had to grow up. All of a sudden, I had to learn 
     how to take care of her. Along with two of my other siblings, 
     we took turns watching over her, bringing her soup, bringing 
     her water, helping her get up, and of course, helping her put 
     on her petticoat and slippers so that she could sit in her 
     rocking chair. A few months before we were to return back to 
     school, Ramon took a turn for the worst. And my mother and 
     father sat down along with Dr. Beam and said ``Ramon Frances 
     has to go into a nursing home. We can't afford to take care 
     of her--you're going back to school, and she will need 
     help.'' And so I talked to my baby sister, Lisa, and I said, 
     ``Lisa, you like to comb hair. I can help bathe her. Sheryl 
     can make sure that her clothes--my grandmother liked all her 
     clothes ironed, we could not just put on anything. After all, 
     she did make our slips.'' She made everything but our 
     underwear.
       She was the most important person in my life because she 
     taught me responsibility at a very young age. But, she also 
     taught me to pursue my dreams, and not to be afraid of what 
     was out of our homes. Ramon was one who believed in the 
     future; she was one who taught us not to be fearful of 
     anyone. One of the best pieces of advice I've ever received, 
     and God knows if it comes in handy now, is she said, ``Donna, 
     it's not what they call you. It's what you answer to.'' And 
     so, as a cable call girl on CNN, when they call, I go! I got 
     called last night--MSNBC--for three weeks, I can go on MSNBC 
     and Fox, so I'm having fun. Anderson called me last night, 
     ``I miss you!''
       ``Baby, I know you're my boo, but I'm going to see what's 
     going on at MSNBC and Lawrence O'Donnell and Debbi Gregrory, 
     and George Will-Karen.'' I told George the other day, ``I 
     wanna see you in jeans before you retire.'' I want to tell 
     you all something about conservative men. If any of you all 
     are in the room, I know your secret--it is Victoria, it's 
     out. George Will, George Will has a soft spot. His soft spot 
     is that he is really a baseball fan, he loves sports. And 
     George Will loves anyone who knows sports. And so I often 
     bring in my baseball metaphors and my football metaphors and 
     that's how I get George to really warm up to me. And then I 
     do my zingas.
       But my grandmother taught me another important lesson. And 
     at a very early age, she taught me that lesson. She taught me 
     to listen. She taught me to listen to what other people were 
     saying. So I know what it's like to grow up in a household 
     where people don't talk to you, or listen to you. I know what 
     it's like to grow up and not know what it is you wish to do 
     with your life. I know what it's like to be silenced, even 
     when I'm screaming my head off sometimes to get people to 
     listen--I know what it's like to have people think that you 
     have nothing to say. And I know what it's like, because I 
     experienced it also as a child growing up down in the 
     segregated deep South.
       I can remember when I was often the youngest person because 
     I was so active in politics back in my native state of 
     Louisiana. So often they would invite young people in the 
     room just so the picture would look right but they really 
     didn't want us to say a word. They didn't want us to even 
     give our input. And it used to drive me crazy when I was 
     growing up, to just be out in the world not knowing if I 
     could make a difference, not knowing what the sound of my 
     voice would do if I was able to contribute. But it was my 
     grandmother who kept pushing me and others out the door. And 
     she gave me all of the courage I needed to go out there and 
     to try to make change in the world.
       So I want to first of all say to all the teens in the room, 
     and those who still, like myself, are young at heart--you 
     have so much to give. The world is waiting for you. The world 
     needs you. And why you? Because there's no one better. And 
     why now? Because tomorrow is not soon enough. This is your 
     moment. This is your time. This is a time that not only can 
     you find your voice but you can find it in ways that will 
     allow you to soar and to make a difference.
       I didn't wait until I was 18 before I decided to find my 
     voice. I started writing poems at an early age hoping that 
     someone would discover me. Perhaps I didn't know the rhymes 
     at the time but I had a story, I had something to say and I 
     wanted to share it. I wanted someone to listen to me. Then 
     again, my mother bought a tape recorder one year for 
     Christmas. She said, ``What do you want Donna?'' I said, 
     ``Donna wants a tape recorder.'' And so my nickname became 
     ``Tape Recorder.'' And I recorded every conversation and then 
     I put music to it and made it a soap opera for everyone to 
     listen to.
       And so I wanted to be in the world, I wanted my voice 
     heard. And so this is your moment to begin the dream about 
     your future. And what kind of future are you looking to have? 
     And what do you want to do with your life?
       You have to begin thinking about all of these questions 
     early because the world is not going to wait for you to catch 
     up with it. You have to begin to hurry history and catch up 
     with the world, especially now with all of the technology at 
     our disposal. We can talk to someone on Skype all the way 
     across the world. We can text right now and reach out to 
     people standing in line waiting for a (something). And yes, 
     we can find out with our own Twitter accounts and Facebook 
     that we can be part of a revolution taking place thousands 
     and thousands of miles away from here. So you are the future, 
     and it's time that you learn that ``the future belongs to 
     those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.'' The First 
     Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, when she said that, she could not 
     envision that we would live to see so many changes in this 
     country, yet we still have a long way to go.
       So I want to leave you with some ingredients, and I want to 
     pour them into you right now. Because this is the moment for 
     you, many of you, who are ready to enter the world, ready to 
     make a difference, ready to use your voice, out there to try 
     to stir things

[[Page 9542]]

     up. When I was a young girl, I used to tell my grandmother, 
     ``Ramon, I want to be like Harriet Tubman.'' Harriet Tubman 
     was one of my favorites. I figured anyone who ran away from 
     slavery was a good role model to have.
       So I said to Ramon I wanted to be a leader. I wanted to be 
     a leader like Harriet Tubman. So some of you are probably 
     thinking, ``Wow, how can I become a leader?'' So this is what 
     I knew about being a leader. A leader is defined as someone 
     who is in command, as someone who guides, a person in a 
     position of influence or importance, a role model. Now let me 
     say, I'm a leader. Not only am I elected to an office that 
     allows me to help guide the oldest political party in the 
     country, I'm also a party leader that helps devise political 
     strategy, a campaign consultant who has also helped to 
     organize and manage campaigns at every level. But I'm also an 
     owner of a small business that employs staff, consultants, 
     and interns, I also teach at a major college. So the 
     foundation of good leadership is being honest and fair. A 
     leader is someone who listens as well as asks questions. A 
     leader has courage and a leader treats others with respect 
     and dignity. A leader admits to mistakes and takes 
     responsibility for his or her actions. And a leader has 
     integrity and can be trusted. A leader also inspires and 
     motivates others to take action in the pursuit of the common 
     good. Now, there are more traits; leaders are often problem-
     solvers because they seek solutions and leaders are also 
     visionaries because they help to set long-term goals.
       So it's important to learn how to use your voice to become 
     a leader, and that you begin to see yourself as a leader and 
     as someone who can become successful because you are 
     important and because we need you. We need more young women, 
     more young women willing to serve in public office. We need 
     more young women willing to write news articles, tweet, 
     posting blogs and stories on Facebook, and not just that 
     stuff that makes your friends happy. But the stuff that can 
     really make other people think. And so, here are my other 
     ingredients.
       Believe in the power of your dreams. If you don't, no one 
     else will.
       Second, be true to yourself. I've done a lot in my life 
     because someone else wanted me to do it or I thought about 
     it. Sometimes it turned out well, sometimes of course it 
     hasn't, but I have never ever given up on any of my dreams. I 
     keep working toward them. And when I finished writing that 
     first book, I will see a minority or woman as president and 
     four years later, we have our first bi-racial president. And 
     if I continue to work hard, one day, you all will be invited 
     to the White House as we inaugurate our first female 
     president, or Hispanic, Asian-American, person of color, and 
     so on.
       So you have to live your dreams, you just can't dream and 
     then walk out of the room and expect someone to stir up all 
     the ingredients. You gotta go into the arena and stir it up. 
     Sometimes, you have to bring your own pot and sometimes you 
     have to bring your own fire. It's called Tabasco, for those 
     of you who don't know.
       Number three: Never accept no as a final answer. I've been 
     told ``no, no, no;'' I know ``no'' in just about every 
     language. I often tell people after they say no, ``That's a 
     yes, isn't it?'' Nah, figure out a way. Go around it, go 
     beneath it, go above it, go below it, just find a way. Find a 
     way, find a path. If you really want to do something, go for 
     it. You can't stop at no. A friend used to tell me that no is 
     just a prelude to yes. Now, when I hear no, I think ``Good, 
     now I'm just one step closer to yes.''
       Now number four: When you stumble get back up. I have 
     stumbled a lot. My knees are good, my elbows are even better, 
     sometimes I've had to work my way up, because I've had some 
     hits. I have fallen. But you get back up, it's as simple as 
     that. You're gonna fall, you're gonna fail, you're gonna make 
     mistakes, people will not always listen to you--I've got 
     three minutes left, I am not Baptist--I am Catholic; I need 
     five, and Ill wrap it up in four.
       Number five: Keep a little spice handy. Life gets boring. 
     It is really boring sometimes. But never be afraid to spice 
     it up. Were all unique, no two of us are exactly alike--but 
     think about your limits. And then push them a bit. What makes 
     you uncomfortable? Sometimes you gotta know that so you can 
     just add those missing ingredients that might give you some 
     spice. For me, I was scared of horses. I had to spice up my 
     life and I had to ask myself--why? What's keeping me from 
     embracing something that I'm scared of? It was fear. Took me 
     until I was in my mid-40s, but I conquered that fear. I had 
     that horse following me, and I didn't even have an apple.
       And let me tell you number six. Courage isn't the absence 
     of fear; courage is facing your fear and overcoming it. 
     Sometimes, you know what you're scared of before you even 
     know what you like! Don't let your fears stand in the way of 
     your success.
       And then there's number seven. This is about faith. Because 
     when I was a little girl I had so many people invest what I 
     would call and consider now a lot of energy into me. They'd 
     say, ``Donna, you gotta do this.'' I'd respond, ``Okay!'' 
     They'd say, ``Donna, can you make this happen?'' I'd say, 
     ``Yes!'' And they would run off, and I'd be thinking----AHH! 
     I would freak. But I remember when Dr. Martin Luther King, 
     who inspired me as a little girl, said ``Faith is taking one 
     step, even when you cannot see the entire staircase.'' And 
     for me, I often have to just take that one step, and then it 
     comes right there. It just, it appears.
       And Mrs. King, his wife, I was just over 21 when I met her 
     and worked for her as a young girl. And Mrs. King said, 
     ``Donna, we want to make the birthday a national holiday.'' 
     And I said, ``Okay!'' Everybody else, from the time Dr. King 
     died in 1968 'til 1981, they just said, ``We'll, maybe,'' and 
     then Ronald Reagan was elected and they'd say, ``Well that'll 
     never happen.'' And a bunch of us, we were all young, were 
     just out of college, we said, ``We have time.'' We'll do 
     it.'' And within 18 months, we had a holiday because we had 
     faith.
       And so, let me close up a little bit by saying that I 
     learned growing up, with a large family, with brothers and 
     sisters, with parents, grandparents and others, with 
     neighbors who loved us, and with friends who would always 
     stand by our side--I learned that I could really go to the 
     next step. That I could move beyond the limitations placed on 
     me simply because of where I was born. I knew that when I was 
     a kid that no matter what people said about my skin color, 
     what they said about my hair, what my sisters continue to say 
     about my hair. I'm like, ``Will you all stop?'' They say, 
     ``Donna, it looked like (something) last night.'' And I say, 
     ``Your TV, maybe you should get HDTV. Maybe you should get 
     rid of that box.'' But I know they're telling me with love to 
     get myself to the beauty parlor. But I learned as a little 
     kid, it's not what people say, and it's not what people see 
     about you. My grandmother was right. It's what you believe 
     in. It's not what they call you, it's what you answer to.
       So let me close with a poem that continues to inspire me 
     every time I read it. It's Maya Angelou, called ``Still I 
     Rise.'' And I close with her words:

     You may write me down in history
     With your bitter, twisted lies,
     You may trod me in the very dirt
     But still, like dust, I'll rise . . .
     Out of the huts of history's shame
     I rise
     Up from a past that's rooted in pain
     I rise
     I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
     Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
     Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
     I rise
     Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
     I rise
     Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
     I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
     I rise
     I rise
     I rise.

       To my friends, to the young ladies, to the sponsors, to all 
     the supporters of this great organization, it's now your turn 
     to let these young women rise, to give them the wings that 
     they need so that they will soar and make a difference. To 
     rise up to your full potential, to rise until you feel the 
     air surrounding you. Rise up, rise high, and make us all 
     proud. Thank you and God bless 
     you.

                          ____________________