Published Feb. 1, 2006
For black women of my mother’s generation, Coretta Scott King was like Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. Following the assassination of her husband, during days of very public mourning, Mrs. King was a portrait of dignity and quiet strength. At a time when every black American was judged by the behavior of a very few, Mrs. King’s grace under pressure made black Americans -- but especially black women -- very proud.
So did her efforts to promote the legacy of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., the mission to which she dedicated the rest of her life. While rearing four children (the youngest, Bernice, was only 5 years old when her father died), Mrs. King raised millions to build the facility down on Auburn Avenue. She called it the Martin Luther King Jr. Center for Non-Violent Social Change.
But Mrs. King’s greatest triumph was the holiday. She campaigned for it tirelessly, along with Rep. John Conyers, (D-Mich.), who introduced the bill for a holiday commemorating King a mere four days after his assassination. Fifteen years later, with Coretta Scott King standing next to him, President Ronald Reagan signed the law designating the third Monday of every January, near King’s Jan. 15 birthday, a federal holiday. By 2000, it was also a state holiday in all 50 states.
It’s easy enough now to take the annual commemoration for granted, but there was nothing preordained about the passage of state and federal laws, nothing routine about the expectation that the nation would pay homage to the man who had insisted that it live up to its promise of equality for all.
My mother remembers that the segregated Alabama school where she taught planned a commemorative service shortly after Martin Luther King Jr.’s death. One of a handful of white teachers -- considered progressives, since they had volunteered to teach at an all-black school -- objected. “She said she was not going to honor somebody who had stirred up all that trouble,” my mother recalled.
Mrs. King met similar objections in many quarters. Some members of Congress denounced King as a Communist; they were incensed not only by his demands on the American social conscience but also by his opposition to the Vietnam War. Others used cost as an excuse. Some objected to a holiday celebrating a man who had never held any public office, much less the presidency. But Mrs. King used the public stage well, never giving up.
My mother’s generation of women also respected that about her: She stepped ably into the spotlight when it counted. Like so many young widows of her time and place, women groomed to be wives and mothers, she needed to call on deep reserves of fortitude and faith to make it through. And she did.
She made her share of mistakes along the way. While she was a savvy fund-raiser, she wasn’t an equally shrewd manager. As president of the King Center, she was often disorganized, allowing promising programs to lapse, never developing the institution as the premier center for the study of nonviolence. And she could never let go of the center long enough to allow a professional manager to develop it, either. (Even now, the facility needs repairs that will cost millions, and it doesn’t have the money.)
She allowed her children -- whom I have fiercely criticized -- to profit from their father’s legacy. And she was not above squeezing every dollar she could out of news organizations or other groups wanting to use passages from her husband’s sermons and speeches. She was blind to the inherent conflict in her logic: If her husband is a public treasure (and he is) whose legacy should be commemorated with a national holiday, then his speeches and sermons should be public property, too.
Still, she continued to stand for social justice -- adopting an expansive vision that many other civil rights activists were unable or unwilling to share. She didn’t just support Nelson Mandela; she also supported Corazon Aquino. She gave Bono, the Irish rock star, an award for his anti-poverty work in the developing world. And, when many older civil rights leaders were mired in their own homophobia, she spoke out against anti-gay bigotry.
Two years ago, at a commemorative dinner during the King holiday weekend, I approached Mrs. King as she sat taking pictures with admirers. I had long wanted to tell her that I was impressed by her courageous denunciations of homophobia. One of her aides -- having read my columns criticizing King family antics that had left me unimpressed -- couldn’t resist the irony: He suggested I have my picture taken with her, too.
My mother likes that photo. So do I.
> Cynthia Tucker was the editorial page editor
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