(Image: Thinkstock)

I’m never one to say I’m perfect. I mean, who is? But I definitely have an issue with patience in situations where I feel like a job is either not being done properly or quick enough for me.

I guess you could call it a control thing. Hey, we all have issues we’re working on.

In customer service situations, I’ve found myself ready to blow a gasket because the representative is not moving fast enough to resolve an issue or is telling me no for whatever reason. And, admittedly, I might not be so nice in my reaction to it.

Then there was that moment of clarity where I got CHECKED.

I was trying to settle an issue with a customer service rep at a phone company about my bill. The agent was very nice about explaining to me the situation and why the bill was the way it was. I’d done my own calculations and based my opposing argument on those, so I was quite annoyed that the customer service agent wasn’t in agreement with me. I asked for her supervisor, who told me the exact same thing she’d told me.

I made a big, frustrated fuss and spent half a day trying to defend my case. The supervisor even offered to add extra minutes to my bill because of the inconvenience but I was so upset I simply hung up the phone without a resolution.

A few days later, after calming down, I discovered I’d made a mistake and that the customer service rep was right all along. Not only was I embarrassed and had to bite the bullet in the end, I lost a lot of unnecessary time, money and energy simply because I did not respect that the customer service agent had been hired to do her job for a reason and that she knew what she was doing.

It’s always good to respect people in general, but even beyond that, it’s best to respect someone’s professional position and why they were hired for that particular job in the first place.

True, there are people out there who may have gotten positions they don’t deserve, aren’t qualified for or where they’re simply incompetent. But initial benefit of the doubt ensures one doesn’t make a fool of themselves and tarnish their own reputation because of situations that could have been avoided.

Take that Type-A coworker or boss. He might delegate a task, and instead of trusting the person delegated to get the job done properly, he decides to jump the gun and do it himself. He might not be as well-versed in handling the task as appropriately as the originally designated person — who, by the way, was hired to do that particular task. Not only can mistakes be made — and morale diminished — but time and energy capital has been lost that could have been used by that coworker or boss to do what they were hired to do to the best of their ability.

Let people do what they do best — the job they earned by bringing their own skills, talents and experience to the table and were hired, accordingly, to do. Respect the career journey that includes the training, studying, interviewing, and toiling it took for one to attain a particular status or position in their career, whether senior or entry-level.

I learned a great lesson after that customer service incident: Respect people’s position, and know that they were hired for a reason. Give them the benefit of the doubt that they can and will do the job to avoid unnecessary headaches.

(Image: Thinkstock)

I’ve always been mum about my age. “A lady never tells,” would always be my response upon hearing an inquiry I always found rude and intrusive. As the years went by, I’d even remix the reply: “I’m 21 for the second time… third … fourth … fifth … sixth…”and friends and family would play along.

But, after the sixth time of turning 21, I thought about how close I was to reaching 30 and how being 21 for the umpteenth time was just becoming tired and corny.

Earlier this month, I hit the big 2-9 — my last year in my 20s. And with that has come quite a bit of growth and fearful, honest reflection.

There are small triggers for me that spark those Oprah-esque “Aha!” moments in my life. I recently had a candid conversation with my 81-year-old Granny about aging, and it somehow drifting into ideas for decorating my apartment. I’d been practically neglecting to do so since it wasn’t the ritzy Park Ave. oasis I’d envisioned I’d have by 30.

“You should learn to make wherever you live a home,” she advised. “No matter how small or how big and no matter where you think you should be, you should always create a space to be proud to come home to.”

That insight alone made me think of my life and what space I wanted to create for myself in the world at large. As a college student, I was used to being transient and carefree. I’d lived on campus all four years, supported by my parents, loans, grants, scholarships, and an allowance. When I had breaks, I’d spend them either traveling or interning, and when I was home, it was for short stints.

My outlook on getting employed was centered on the concept of free-spirited independence. I had dreams of leaving behind my laid-back, debutante, Southern upbringing for the fast-paced, ever-changing city life I’d witnessed many times while visiting my family in Harlem and Brooklyn as a child.

I was blessed to get my first full-time job in media shortly after graduation, and briefly lived in my own apartment in the South. In my mind, the move was temporary — a stepping stone to get my feet wet, excel as much as I could, and catch the eye of a big New York publisher. I never really invested in decorating or fixing up my place, nor did I invest fully in many things I’ve written so much about as a mature journalist today (such as networking, retirement accounts, savings, and emergency funds). I was more focused on spontaneous experiences, travel and ultimately keeping it moving.

When I finally got a chance opportunity for a freelance job for a major publisher Manhattan, I went for it — with very little planning or savings. I had many bumps, including interesting and not-so-comfy rooming experiences and several bad financial decisions. Fortunately, I landed the job and would eventually move on to a few others before getting my position here at Black Enterprise.

Now that I’m close to 30 (*gasp*) and have achieved all I have professionally, I’m implored to approach things in a more holistic fashion— where every piece of the puzzle plays a vital role and must fit in a more strategic, big-picture way. It’s less about growing pains and short-term thrills, and more about building a foundation of worthwhile experiences that will ultimately have long-lasting benefits.

Continued on next page …

At 29, I’m realizing that planning isn’t that big bad word only Perfect Patties or scolding elders use, and building roots are signs of maturity and prosperity. I gladly embrace it because though its good to be a free spirit, a bit of discipline never hurts to ensure each step can be safely made without too much avoidable fallout.

I don’t regret the order of my steps — many that included once-in-a-lifetime moments of excitement, laughter, spontaneity, and growth — but, these are the five things I’d tell my less-responsible, more spontaneous 20-year-old self:

TRUST YOURSELF: That voice in your head saying, “Go ahead” or “Stop, don’t do it,” is a truthful one. Nine times out of 10 it won’t stray you wrong, especially when it comes to men and money. You don’t need two or three more people for confirmation. Just listen and be obedient.

FOR DECISIONS — ESPECIALLY THOSE THAT ENTAIL LONG-TERM FINANCIAL COMMITMENTS — PRAY, THINK, and SAVE (IN THAT ORDER): Many of my decisions in my 20s were compulsive, without much consideration of pros and cons. When I wanted a car, I got one (and got stuck with a very unforgiving loan agreement because I hadn’t researched or saved for a down payment, maintenance or emergencies). If I wanted to move, I’d move (often losing lots of money in storage, rentals and replacement of loss items after moving from place to place.) If I wanted clothing, shoes, new hair — you name it — and I had the cash, I’d buy it. Def. not fun undoing 10 years of this mentality.

SPLURGE ON BIG-PICTURE THINGS, NOT THINGS THAT APPEAL TO SHORT-TERM URGES: Though I don’t regret my move to New York, I think it would’ve been much easier had I bit the bullet in a smaller market for a little longer, saved a bit more money, and invested in a great starter apartment upon my move. Also, all that money spent on nightlife, socializing, club fashions and trendy beauty products was unnecessary. It all made for great immediate experiences, but more investment in bigger-picture things, such as a money market account, new laptop, nice Chanel suit, or a “Co-op Buying Fund” would have been nice right about now.

IT’S BEST TO DIVERSITY YOUR CIRCLE: Just because they’re your close friends doesn’t mean they have to be your career mentors, travel pals or prayer partners. Every close friend won’t fit into every space in your life. Learn to meet new people, network, and categorize accordingly. And please, make sure that your professional network is as strong as your social or party network, if not stronger.

LEARN TO MAKE YOURSELF HAPPY FIRST: My Granny would always say this to me, but it didn’t really hit home until now. It’s OK to tell people no, to not be into the same things you once were into or to move on to bigger and better. And it’s OK to be a little selfish for the right reasons: Whether its turning down a friends “must-attend” birthday bash or creating a home space that’s so comfy you don’t want to leave, these small gestures have big impact in overall health and happiness.

Some of us walk through life constantly needing the OK from this peanut gallery, whether it’s family members, friends or spouses.

Take these hypothetical instances:

SCENARIO ONE:

Friend 1: I don’t think a natural would be a good look for you. Just isn’t professional.

Friend 2: You don’t think so? I love natural hair, and I’m sick of all the relaxers and chemicals… Okay, well … I think I’ll keep my hair straight.

SCENARIO TWO:

Family Member 1: I’ve always wanted to move to Europe and volunteer with youth.

Family Member 2: What do you know about Europe? You need to focus on the job you have here in the States.

SCENARIO THREE:

Colleague 1: I’ve always dreamed of becoming a veterinarian. I’m sick of working on computers. It’s not my passion. I’m going to put in my two weeks, and go to school full time.

Colleague 2: In this economy? You should just stay where you are. Maybe volunteer at a pet shelter or something …

True, well-meaning peers can offer great advice on how to handle situations, how to resolve conflicts or simply be confidantes in times of need. People often volunteer advice or their two cents on the decisions people make out of love or concern.

Also true is the fact that a great mentor can help guide a professional on the best moves to make. An effective mentor would be credible enough to do so, having either been there and done that, or having the professional knowledge and experience to back up any advice given. They will also know how to give directives that are more about positive options or alternatives and less focused on discouragement.

Lately, I’ve been privy to people, who have no real experience or even basis of knowledge, speaking on what someone should or shouldn’t do, and seeing people who can’t seem to make one move without a co-sign. Just as a financial co-signer has to align with various financial and employment criteria for approval from a bank, the same should go for those “life” co-signers who speak on behalf of the decisions of others.

In a fast-paced business world where confidence is vital, I’ve found that building inner discernment is a better option than always needing someone to approve of what I’m doing in my life. How can one maneuver a vehicle forward if they’re constantly distracted by backseat drivers? How can one truly capture their destiny if they’re always unsure or even more confused because of constant consideration of multiple opinions and irrelevant scrutiny?

If one has strong discernment and confidence, they are able to know when to ask for help and when to just act. They know when to listen to that inner voice and take a chance, and when they should first get insight or expert advice before making a move. They know the foundation of who they are and what works for their unique needs and wants. They also know that those things may not always be traditional or on the beaten path, and that’s OK.

Sometimes, even choosing to do the total opposite of what someone advises— and falling down because of it—is even OK. Mistakes are part of life, and some of us wouldn’t learn or advance without making them.

From the few years (*wink) I’ve been on this Earth, I’ve learned that, it’s alright to admire someone, hold their opinions in high esteem, and even be inspired by their blueprint for success, but it’s important to make my own decisions, be accepting of the consequences and even create a new blueprint for the life that is MINE.

I would challenge anyone out there who is constantly looking for outside approval on everything they do to first look inward and be secure in the person you are, and to develop and exercise discernment. You don’t always need that cosigner, and when you do need one, know who to trust with the honor of giving you advice. Ultimately, trust yourself to act on what you believe is right.

President Barack Obama addresses the nation in State of the Union (Image: File)

Speaking before a jam-packed congressional chamber and millions glued to the tube, President Obama boldly declared in his State of the Union address Tuesday night to use his leadership toward producing an economy “built to last.” His “blueprint” calls for, among other initiatives, a high-tech reboot of the nation’s manufacturing sector, tax code changes to reward firms that “would bring jobs back to your country” and a series of policies promoting financial equity for middle class and poor Americans.

In the speech, Obama took aim at financial institutions engaged in abusive lending practices and corporations and wealthy individuals not paying their fair share of taxes, focusing on “fairness…the defining issue of our time is how to keep that promise alive… We can either settle for a country where a shrinking number of people do very well, while a growing number of Americans barely get by. Or, we can restore an economy where everyone gets a fair shot.”

In the Republican rebuttal delivered by Indiana Gov. Mitch Daniels he characterized the Obama Administration as “a divisive failure that has chosen class warfare and stifling big government over economic progress.” Even before the address, other GOP opponents—from House Speaker John Boehner to presidential contender Mitt Romney—jumped on this class warfare bandwagon.  The president counterd: “You can call this class warfare all you want. Most Americans would call that common sense.”

Watching from the press gallery, I was struck by the diffrence in Obama’s tenor from last year’s lofty “plan to win the future.” Though upbeat, his remarks melded forceful urgency, industrial innovation and economic populism. It also offered some clues on how he will frame his re-election campaign going forward, highlightinmg myriad economic achievements—rescuing the nation from another Great Depression, providing pay equity for women, resurrecting the auto industry (“Today, General Motors is back on top as the world’s No. 1 automaker…”), to name  just three—and touching on foreign policy accomplishments—taking out Osama bin Laden, ending the Iraq War—while making the argument that future prospects under a second term of Obama will prove far better than the GOP alternative.

The president prefers across-the-aisle collaboration to open warfare. But expect him to display more steel when it comes to dealing with the type of politcal antics that almost shut down the government last year and threatened to wreck the recovery. He asserted: “As long as I’m President, I will work with anyone in this chamber to build on this momentum. But I intend to fight obstruction with action, and I will oppose any effort to return the very same policies that brought on this economic crisis in the first place.”

So it’s clear he’ll continue to deploy his six-month-old “We can’t wait” strategy—a combination of using the presidential bully pulpit to pressure Congress to pass his legislative agenda as well as implementing select initiatives through executive action and enforcement powers.

In his remarks, he prodded  congressional Republicans to stop “a tax hike on 160 million working Americans while the recovery is still fragile… Let’s agree right here, right now: No side issues. No drama. Pass the payroll tax cut without delay.” Currently, the deal cut between Democrats and Republicans for a two-month extension of the payroll tax holiday in late December is set to expire shortly. And he also asked Congress to present him with tax reform legislation for companies that create domestic jobs as well as bills that bolster small business development and energy innovation. As for housing , “I’m sending this Congress a plan that gives every responsible homeowner a chance to save about $3,000 a year on their mortagage by refinancing at historically low interest rates.” And once again he proposed additional changes to the tax code—the so-called Buffett rule named after Warren Buffet, the second richest man in America—in which those earning more than $1 million a year would pay a minimum income tax rate of at least 30%. The GOP continues to reject the measure.

In terms of applying executive privilege, Obama said he will ask Attorney General Eric Holder Jr. to create a special division using federal prosecutors and state attorneys to investigate abusive lending. The president would also develop a beefed-up trade enforcement unit  to pursue unfair practices employed by foreign countries—most notably China. Moreover, he plans to sign an Executive Order next week “clearing away the red tape that slows down too many construction projects” but readily admitted Congress has to authorize funding  Obama did install his Consumer Finance Protection Bureau Chief through a recess appointment, however.

In talking with political observers today, one area that he failed to address with policy initiatives, however, is the alarming rate of poverty.

Despite the inevitable dogfights, Obama stated that Washington politicans will continue to get a black eye from the public if they don’t “learn from the service of our troops.” He opened and closed his address with references to the selflessness and honor displayed by our young men and women in uniform, and  specifically pointed to the Navy SEAL team that killed Bin laden by placing mission above individual differences.

Bridging that politial chasm, he stated, would result in a a nation that is truly built to last.

Red Tails has already received great buzz in the Twitterverse, and has been shown in screenings ranging from Tuskegee University to The White House. In fact, I recently had the honor of attending a screening in Birmingham, Michigan at the invitation of former Detroit Mayor Dennis Archer and his son, Ignition Media CEO Dennis Archer, Jr. The event brought out cast members, luminaries, BE 100s CEOs and a few of the original Tuskegee Airmen. In fact, meeting these courageous men was the highlight of that evening.

Archer said he decided to hold the screening after attending the Black Corporate Directors Conference, the annual power confab organized by John Rogers, chairman of Ariel Investments (No. 5 on the BE ASSET MANAGERS list with $5.5 billion in assets under management), held in Laguna Beach, California last fall. He shared details of a session that featured George Lucas, creator of the Star Wars franchise who recounted how several studios turned down the project despite his Hollywood powerhouse status. In order to produce the film, Lucas provided the financing. (In fact, the aerial exploits of the Tuskegee Airman served as inspiration for Lucas in the development of Star Wars and those who know the history affectionately refer to Red tails as “the seventh chapter” of the series.)

Archer and others vowed that they would vigorously promote the film, sharing the history of the Tuskegee Airmen to as many audiences as possible and getting pledges from screening audience members to bring family members, friends and youth to see the movie during opening weekend since the initial tally of box office receipts is so critical in determining a film’s success, as well as gaining Hollywood’s interest in developing and distributing similar fare.

Another attendee, Joseph B. Anderson, Jr., CEO of Troy, Michigan-based TAG Holdings L.L.C (No. 5 on the BE INDUSTRIAL/SERVICE COMPANIES list with $675 million in revenues) told the screening audience that he had been inspired by the example of the Tuskegee Airmen. A West Point graduate whose military experiences in Vietnam were chronicled in the Academy Award-winning 1967 documentary, The Anderson Platoon, said although Blacks played significant roles in U.S. military history for centuries, they had been largely denied leadership positions and skills training. They were barred from being aviators until civil rights organizations and Black press exerted pressure that eventually led to the formation of the all African American pursuit squadron based in Tuskegee, Alabama in 1941—more than a decade before the Civil Rights Movement. The squadron would go on to  participate in more than 1,500 missions, representing what noted scholar and civil rights activist W.E. B. DuBois called “The Talented Tenth,” the group that would advance our race through intellect and leadership. Despite being among the nation’s most educated and accomplished officers and having distinquished combat records, they had to contend with racism at home and abroad. It took forceful leaders like Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., commander of the Tuskegee Airmen who would become the first African American general in the U.S. Air Force, who took his battle to the Pentagon in defense of his men and to stop some within the military’s top brass from dismantling the program.

Since that time, Anderson further stated, the armed forces has served as a means for African Americans to demonstrate their prowess as they rise to the highest ranks and use that experience as a platform to excel in business and government, citing former Secretary of State Colin Powell as an exemplar of that tradition. In 2007, 300 living and deceased Tuskegee Airmen were honored with  the Congressional Gold Medal for their enduring heroism.

Anderson further mentioned that former Tuskegee Airmen had served the nation and the world, making significant strides in academia, politics and business. In fact, I had the privilege of interviewing one of the most prominent squadron members, the late Lee Archer, Jr., who held the distinction of earning Flying Ace status after he shot down five German Me-109 planes during World War II after serving in more than 169 campaigns. On the ground, Archer soared as a business titan and champion for Black business. He worked closely with the late legendary deal maker Reginald F. Lewis in financing small and minority companies as head of a slew of MESBICS (minority enterprise small business investment corporations). He served as a key member of the investment group that helped Lewis make historic acquisitions. The first was McCall Pattern Co., in which Lewis investing $1 million of his own capital and $24 million in borrowed funds, and then sold the firm to a British textile firm for $90 million, a 90-to-1 return on the initial investment. Next came the deal that would vault Black business to new heights: Lewis’ unprecedented $985 million leveraged buyout of Beatrice International Foods Companies, a collection of 64 processed food manufacturers in 31 countries, including Europe, Australia, and Asia. In 1987, it became the largest buyout ever of overseas assets of an American company and created the first billion-dollar Black-owned business to lead the BE 100s. For his trailblazing efforts,  Archer was inducted as a Millennium Member of the Reginald F. Lewis Museum in 2009.

Archer is just one example of the caliber of the individual produced by the Tuskegee Airman: fierce warriors of the sky who became fearless groundbreakers dedicated to uplifting our race and the nation. That’s why Red Tails is so important. It’s a tribute to past achievement and a reminder of continued vigilance for limitless opportunities.

So as I looked at the film, I beamed with pride, enjoying the aerial derring-do of these African American fighter pilots in their red-tailed P-51Mustangs. For decades, such African American heroism has been absent from war films.

This film offers other lessons as well. Our contributions are a part of American and world history and must be shared with current and future generations—regardless of race.  We must reveal these milestones through the most powerful mediums possible, especially through digital technology. We must find creative ways to fund such efforts, including self-financing and aggressive promotion in the same manner some groups have pushed Red Tails.

Let’s use the top-flight performance of the Tuskegee Airmen and those of other such trailblazers to inspire us to demonstrate that we will continue to be impact players in all aspects of global society regardless of the odds, and kindle that spirit of excellence, sacrifice and resilience. That is is our obligation.

Let us soar on their wings.

(Image: ThinkStock)

I’m a words geek. I love words, their sound, their meanings, their power to teach, calm, and convey any and everything. So, I’m always excited to see new words stake their claim in the language, as they do every year when Merriam-Webster (the last word on words in this country) elevates an elite group from slang into official status by including them in the latest edition of their dictionary.

It’s easy to forget how many of our most standard references began as a fluke, a made-up string of letters that previously had no meaning at all. In recent years, new entrants from acai (a fruit) to zip line (whizzing through the treetops) have become commonplace. So have new definitions for words we thought meant one thing that we now routinely think of as something else. Take cougar, the large, powerful tawny-brown cat versus the romance-hungry middle-aged woman on the prowl for a younger man.

At Black Enterprise through the years, we’ve coined our share of terms that took off, like Buppie in 1984. The long-winded dictionary definition is “a college-educated Black adult who is employed in a well paying profession and who lives or works in or near a large city.” Of course, we just called it a Black urban professional. Words like kidpreneur (a child entrepreneur) and teenpreneur (a teenager with their own business) haven’t garnered official status, although we use them at BE and see them elsewhere all the time.

Ginormous, the brilliant fusion of giant and enormous, is a word I thought my brilliant son made up when he was three. Come to find out, not only is it in the dictionary, its first known use was traced back to 1948! And we can thank President Obama and the First Lady for officializing (yes, I made that up) fist bump. Merriam-Webster defines it as “a gesture in which two people bump their fists together as in greeting or celebration.” Urbandictionary.com breaks it down like this: It’s “the White person’s term for dap.”

Words like frenemy and google have long been official, but swagu (which is not only defined on urbandictionary.com, it has 50 variations ranging from swagtastic (you have amazing game) to swagtastrophe (someone with a complete lack of swagger) and swagzilla (swagger on an outsized scale), hasn’t made it to Merriam’s… yet. With all due respect to Andre 3000, Beyoncé and anyone with even the slightest hip-hop sensibility, swag is there, but only as a type of drapery.

My favorite new entrant, just elevated last year, is bromance, referencing a close nonsexual relationship between men. Also added to Merriam-Webster last year was a new definition for an old standard: Tweet. Once merely defined as “a chirping note,” it’s now, in both noun and verb form, “a post made on the social networking site Twitter.” You’ll also be happy to note that the new definition of tweet is less than 140 characters long.

The production featured a literal who’s who of great American actors, including a now legendary cast of African Americans such as Louis Gossett Jr., John Amos, Ben Vereen, Cicely Tyson and Leslie Uggams, not to mention the unforgettable debut of Burton as Kunte Kinte, captured in Gambia and sold into the American slave trade in 1765 at the age of 15. With a score composed by Quincy Jones and Gerald Fried, Roots captured America’s undivided attention in a way few television shows have done before or since, garnering 36 Emmy Award nominations (winning nine), as well as Golden Globe and Peabody Awards. The finale of the Roots miniseries remains the third highest-rated U.S. television program ever. A sequel, Roots: The Next Generations, was broadcast in 1979, and a second sequel, Roots: The Gift, was produced as a Christmas movie which starred Burton and Gossett.

Fittingly, in honor of Martin Luther King Day, Oprah Winfrey will host a reunion of the cast members who played some of the most unforgettable roles in the Roots miniseries on the Oprah Winfrey Network, Monday, January 16, at 8pm EST. While the miniseries’ place in American television history is firmly established, the story of Kunte Kinte and his descendants had a far deeper and lasting significance for me, helping to determine my outlook on life, choices and values as an African American.

I was 16 years old when my mother informed me and my three younger siblings (ages 15, 13 and 9), that for the first time in our lives, not only would we be allowed to stay up past our bed time for the week (including school nights!), but that we were required to. As a young, divorced single mother struggling on public assistance to help make a dollar out of 15 cents while raising us on her own, she’d long established her word as law, to be violated at risk of our lives. (You know the type: “I brought you into this world, and I’ll… “) Mommy said we had to watch Roots. Over the ensuing eight nights, I would be mesmerized by what I saw on our television screen.

The author, at 16, a year older than Levar Burton's Kunte Kinte (Image: Courtesy of Subject)

First of all, I don’t recall ever seeing more black people on television at one time (excluding news coverage of events such as civil rights marches and racial unrest after the assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.) before the eight nights that Roots aired. At that point, the main way to see black people on television was by watching sitcoms such as Good Times and Sanford and Son. I still remember it being a big deal when a black person (nearly always an entertainer or athlete) was set to appear on a TV show; my mother would call all of her black friends and neighbors, who would call all of their black friends and neighbors, to ensure that the entire black community tuned in. (Back in those days, black guests performed on late night talk shows, but were almost never invited to the couch to be interviewed by the host.) Seeing all of the great actors and actresses we loved, admired and crushed on was an astonishing source of pride to black people. It’s worth noting that many of the black cast of the Roots miniseries, including Academy Award winner Gossett (Best Supporting Actor, An Officer and A Gentleman) and Academy Award nominee Tyson (Best Actress, Sounder), have gone on to establish themselves among some of the world’s greatest actors.

But the real impact of the Roots miniseries is that it sparked a hunger in me to discover who I really was as a Black American. Before Roots, I thought the African American story began at slavery. Period. In fact, my total knowledge of what it meant to be Black prior to watching Roots consisted of the following: My ancestors were slaves. President Lincoln set us free. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., with an assist from Rosa Parks, convinced white people of good will to end racial discrimination (at least against “responsible Negroes”). Dr. King was good. Malcolm X–the absolute furthest thing from a responsible Negro–was bad–very bad. And I could grow up to be anything that I wanted to be, even President of the United States of America. Except I could always tell that the people saying this to me, whether black or white, didn’t really believe it themselves. (Interestingly, my mother, who has never expressed anything but unshakeable, matter-of-fact faith in my abilities, never told me I could be the President or anything else she didn’t truly believe herself.)

So having Kunte Kinte and millions like him presented to me as evidence that the story of my ancestry and identity began long before American slavery was a powerful, even shocking, revelation to me. I immediately saw myself differently when I looked into the mirror each day. And it wasn’t just me; when I went to my high school classes each day, I could immediately tell which of my white high school classmates and teachers had also been watching Roots by the way they looked at me. It was as if they were thinking: “Now, Alfred knows. And now, I know. And he knows that I know.” I don’t recall any negativity coming out of it. (My hometown of Long Branch, N.J., had only one high school, so my public school education was very much integrated, though racial conflict was not uncommon.) But everything was unmistakably, irreversibly different. Roots provided the first opportunity for me and my black friends to take cultural pride in who we were, and for some of my white friends to have a deeper appreciation for who I was and how I felt as a black person, even if they couldn’t personally understand or identify with it. I learned that being honest about America’s painful racial history did not have to divide people against each other; in at least a few cases, it helped to increase the respect and deepen the friendships of my white peers.

The bottom line: Roots breathed credibility into the idea that I could, indeed, do and be anything I wanted to. The belief that I was inferior to absolutely no one, white or otherwise, in the eyes of God was seared into my soul by one pivotal scene, where the adult Kunte Kinte (played by Amos) raises his infant daughter Kizzy to the star-spangled heavens and loudly declares: “Behold, the only thing greater than yourself!”

Eighteen months after the Roots miniseries aired, I went away from my hometown for the first time in my life when I started college at Rutgers University, a couple of hours away in New Brunswick, N.J. The appetite for understanding and appreciating black culture and history sparked by Roots became ravenous after my discovery of the great Paul Robeson (widely considered to be Rutgers greatest alumni ever) during my freshman year. I ended up becoming a leader in the Black student movement at Rutgers and the editor-in-chief of the Black Voice/Carta Boricua, a university-wide publication of Black and Latino students. And so began my calling to a career in media as a means of championing the truth, power, beauty and potential of who we are and can choose to be as African Americans. I fell in love with the power of story telling to open eyes and change lives. And to think I owe it all to Roots. Our Roots.

If you want a suggestion from me of how you should spend the Martin Luther King Holiday, or what you should do during Black History Month, how about buying the Roots miniseries on DVD and insisting that the children in your family, church and community sit down to watch and discuss it with you. Even if they have to stay up late on a school night.

Happy 35th Anniversary to Roots. And thank you to each and every person who played a role in bringing the story of Kunte Kinte to life.

The happy parents... (Image: Getty)

Isn’t She Lovely was my father’s song for me. Sure, it was Stevie Wonder’s song for his daughter, Aisha. But my dad adopted it the first time he heard it and it became ours. He sang it to me throughout my childhood and we danced to it at my wedding, kicking off a party that lasted all night.

Before Wonder’s amazing Songs in the Key of Life album came out, my dad’s theme song for me was another Stevie classic: You Are the Sunshine of My Life. He’d twirl a pint-sized me through our living room, deftly guiding me around the coffee table and into the dining room, doing the lindy hop while my mom watched us from the kitchen through smiling eyes.

It sounds idyllic, right? It was. They were perfect moments in the midst of what became a monumentally imperfect life, as all lives do. But they are the images that last, the memories that keep me whole even when it feels that the entire world is breaking apart.

As I grew up and life became more complicated and difficult and less magical and musical, my father’s unblemished view of me and his unlimited belief in me remained. They were all-powerful in their ability to calm and reassure me, to motivate and instruct. In fact, their power seems to deepen as time goes on, even now, when he’s no longer here. That’s the everlasting impact a good father, his support and encouragement, can have on a child.

That Jay Z’s first public response to the birth of his daughter with Beyonce has come in the form of a song called Glory is not surprising. After all, like Stevie Wonder, music is his medium, it’s his business and it makes sense that in his newborn baby he’s found a new muse. Musical icons from Wonder to Lauryn Hill (Song for Zion), Erykah Badu, Kenny “Babyface” Edmonds (The Day), and Will Smith (Just the Two of Us) have penned tributes to their children before.

What is unique is that Jay Z, with his front-page prominence, kingpin swagger, and that rare mix of corporate-and-street-cred, chose to express his joy, amazement, gratitude and abiding love for this child openly and honestly, sending a message and serving as an example for fathers everywhere, especially black ones.

I can attest, as the child of a man who never played an instrument or wrote a lyric, but who used song, affection, humor, towering expectations, and firm guidance, to express his love for me daily, that the impact on little Miss Carter of her daddy’s attention will be far beyond what any fame or outsized level of material wealth will ever afford her. No doubt Jay Z, who didn’t have a father care for him in this way, understands that. So does Beyonce, who before becoming Mrs. Carter, was clearly a daddy’s girl.

My prayer for Blue Ivy Carter is no different than my prayer for every child: That she be deeply loved and grow to live a life that bears testament to that love by carrying herself with dignity and grace and doing her part to make the world a better place. She’ll have every advantage; may she grow to use them all well.

In the short-term though, my prayer for her is a simpler one. May she continue to inspire her daddy to make music that may make other men take their rightful place—with pride and joy—in the lives and hearts of their own children. If she does no more than that—ever—the world will be a bit better for sure.

Caroline's inspirational necklace

The daily grind isn’t easy. In fact, is it just me, or does it seem to be getting harder all the time? So, I’m always on the lookout for ways to stay inspired throughout my day. I try to meditate each morning on a passage that will reinforce and renew my spirit. I have positive signs up in my office and a file full of reaffirming mail I turn to when my back is really against the wall. I listen to music that will life me up. And I wear jewelry. That’s right: Jewelry.

There’s an old expression about wearing your heart on your sleeve; I wear my inspiration on mine. I also wear it around my neck, on my fingers, and dangling from my ears.

Jewelry is usually about the show: Folks showing off their success (big diamonds) or showing what they’re about (religious symbols, fraternity pins, school rings) or showing how deeply in love they are (Elizabeth Taylor really missed her calling; she should’ve given women lessons in how to get your man to step up to the level of devotion Richard Burton and her other suitors showed. The 33 carat Krupp diamond? Emeralds the size of doorknobs? $115 million worth of adoration? Now that’s a show!)

My jewelry is less about show than tell. It speaks to me everyday, reminding me to do my best, to remain faithful, and to never forget who I come from and what is expected of me. In my small bag of daily tricks that help hold me together when things feel like they’re falling apart, my jewelry isn’t worth millions but it’s invaluable nonetheless.

Caroline's gold bracelet by Janet Hill Tolbert

I own several pieces designed by my friend Janet Hill Tolbert, a former book editor who started her own company, onthisrocknyc.com, a few years ago. On any given day, I’m likely to wear one of two wide cuffs. The gold one has Psalm 91:11 stamped in a scrolling italic font: “He shall command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.” The sterling one’s block letters are as simple and clear as its message: “LOVE conquers a multitude of sins.”

I often wear a necklace (pictured above) Janet created, a simple disc with words from the Biblical book of Matthew, it reminds me not just to dream my dreams and make my goals, but to pursue them with all my heart: “Ask. Seek. Knock.”

Caroline's collection of rings are a sentimental staple in her life

Not all my jewelry issues such direct proclamations. For instance, I never take off a gold band I wear on my left thumb. It was my uncle Ralph Bynoe’s wedding band. He was a great man, steadfast in his love for my Aunt Iris, for his extended family, and dedicated to his career at the United States Post Office, where he worked with great pride, dignity, and commitment for more than 40 years. His ring is a reminder to me to do the same.

There’s also a collection of thin bands I never take off my right hand. They include a set of seven rings my husband gave to me years ago for my birthday, symbolizing his love for me every day of the week. I added two rings to the stack, one that I bought myself in a purposeful splurge meant to say, “I earn it, I deserve it,” and another that my mother gave me. Engraved in tiny block letters around its outer edge are the words, “Don’t Forget to Remember.”

I clearly recall opening her gift, reading the words and turning to her expectantly.

“Remember what,” I asked, sure she was going to say, “I love you.” I was wrong.

“Don’t forget to remember who you are,” she said, her words falling over me like a protective blanket, a cloak to keep me safe and warm, a subtle bit of armor strong and encompassing enough to see me through the toughest battle, or the whole damn war, intact.