The Queen Returns- Story 2

   When Charlayne Hunter-Gault was in the sixth grade, she won a school contest. Her prize was a diamond tiara, which she insisted on wearing at all times. 
   By age 18, the physical tiara was gone, but the mindset of a queen remained. When she and Hamilton Holmes walked onto the University of Georgia’s campus on Jan. 9, 1961, they were met by a sea of students chanting racial epithets as they passed. But for Hunter-Gault, the insults fell on deaf ears. “They weren’t saying, ‘there goes the n word,’” said Hunter-Gault. “They were saying, ‘there goes the nigger.’ And I was looking around for this nigger. Because I was like, ‘I’m a queen.’”

   Capping off 50 days of desegregation events, Hunter-Gault spent the morning of March 22 speaking with a panel of students about the experiences highlighted in her autobiography, “In My Place.” With the help of moderator Dean Cully Clark, Hunter-Gault illustrated how her childhood poised her to desegregate a staunchly segregated university.

   The adults that influenced Hunter-Gault and her classmates had lived under segregation their entire lives. At the first rumblings of desegregation, black families prepared their children for the trials they would face in the future. “Most black families I knew imbued their children with a sense of self that wouldn’t be denied by society,” said Hunter-Gault. “Society might deny it with artificial means, but it was critical to all of them that they teach us to be somebody.”

   Students of segregated elementary, middle and high schools never had access to the newest school supplies. In fact, by the time their “hand me down” textbooks reached their desks, many of the pages were missing. But they were taught not to complain. “Nobody ever cried about that, or made a big deal about it,” said Hunter-Gault. “They knew the pages were missing and they kept on.”

   Outside of school, families also used the church to prepare their children for the future, giving them leadership positions as missionaries or in Sunday school. They were determined to teach their children that they deserved the same respect that white children enjoyed. “Maybe it was primal memory, but they instinctively gave us first class citizenship,” said Hunter-Gault. “Even when I don’t win, I have enough of a suit of armor to pick myself up again.”

   Armed with her tiara and her perseverance, Hunter-Gault did her best to lead a normal life as a student. But for her, “normal” meant patching the dorm room window that was shattered by a carefully aimed brick. It meant discovering egregious messages etched into her car. It meant living in solitude because no one would share a room, or even a hall, with her.

   But within the spotlight she was thrown into, she found her saving grace.

   As the journalists questioned her, she questioned them. After all, she would be in their shoes one day. “I had this burning desire to be a journalist,” said Hunter-Gault. “As the journalists were interviewing me, I was watching their technique. Sometimes defense mechanisms take over and you don’t even know it.”

   She did, in fact, find herself in their shoes. Her wildly successful career as a journalist distinguishes her as the “most influential graduate of the Grady College,” according to Dean Clark. But for Hunter-Gault, learning how to protect herself against racial advances in college proved just as pertinent to her career as learning how to write a story.

   While she was covering apartheid in South Africa, she hosted a dinner for South African political leaders who told her that they were open to black South Africans obtaining the right to vote, as long as they were “brought to the standard” of white people. Hunter-Gault chose not to react, choosing instead to record their opinions in the interest of her story. “You may be sitting beside somebody whose absolute guts you’re beginning to hate because of the hate that’s coming out of their mouths,” she said. “And you ask them to tell you more.”

   Hunter-Gault has always kept humanity at the center of the story. During her first few weeks on campus, scores of reporters asked probing questions about her experience. She found solace in the company of her dorm mom, who simply asked how she was doing. So when she interviewed Nelson Mandela, she insisted that he have time to relax and drink a cup of tea before the interview. Once they started talking, she formed a connection with him by sharing her involvement in the American civil rights movement. When he asked if she knew Maya Angelou, she knew she was “home free.”
   Before an interview with Libyan leader Muammar el-Qaddafi, she discovered that they had the same birthday. In the interview, she had to ask why he was killing and torturing his people. But first, she told him what they had in common. “Home free” once again.

   Whether she was interviewing controversial leaders like Qaddafi or staring racism in the face at UGA, Hunter-Gault tried to keep an open mind. “I think one of the greatest blessings I have is being able to assess people, and figure out the good ones and those that I can learn from,” she said. “It’s just a function of being open to them and learning from them and not thinking you know everything.”

   As Hunter-Gault shared what she learned from other people, students in attendance focused on what they could learn from her.

   “I’ve been through a lot in my life, and I expected to pick up the book and personally identify with it,” said senior Marah Lidey. “But it was so inspiring to see the positive attitude with which she described things. She rarely focused on the negatives.”

   For senior Price McKeon, the connection came from Hunter-Gault’s discussion of her passion for journalism. “I have that passion I’ve had for journalism since before even middle school, and it was so great to hear about someone focusing so much on journalism rather than the differences and the troubles of what she faced,” she said. “It was really inspiring. It made me want to get up and do something.”

   Hunter-Gault’s dedication to journalism guided her through her undergraduate years, and it might have even saved her sense of bulldog pride.

   “I think that developed over time,” she said. “The way the university worked to try to reconcile the past I thought was an important thing that they did. And also to see the kids who are here being so enthusiastic and having such a positive time helped me to become a good dawg.”

   Like any good “dawg,” when she saw a young black couple sporting “Go Dawgs” T-shirts in the Johannesburg airport, she yelled “Go Dawgs” for the entire airport to hear. The couple smiled in return, bulldog to bulldog. No tiara necessary.