Boston Herald

Toni Morrison opened doors with her words, actions

- Joyce FERRIABOUG­H BOLLING Joyce Ferriaboug­h Bolling is a media and political strategist and communicat­ions specialist.

On Thursday, a picture of literary icon Toni Morrison was accompanie­d by her quote: “Oppressive language does more than represent violence; it is violence.” It was a simple yet poignant message.

Since it ran in the Herald, I got quite a few calls thanking me, but to be honest it was the brainchild of the Herald editorial department. Seeing it was inspiratio­nal. It was perfect for this moment in time, so comforting as a message or prescient as a warning when words are being weaponized to hurt, diminish and injure.

I have always been a fan of the greats — James Baldwin (“The Fire Next Time”), Richard Wright (“Native Son”), Zora Neale Hurston (“Their Eyes Were Watching God”) and the poetry of Langston Hughes. I cheered all the breakthrou­ghs for women of color, among them poet Sonia Sanchez, Ntozake Shange (“For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow Is Enuf”), Nikki Giovanni (“The Women and the Men”), and Morrison’s fellow Pulitizer Prize-winner and the first African American to win, Gwendolyn Brooks (“Annie Allen”). All struggled against limited release of their literary work amid the false narrative that the African American experience did not/could not command a wider audience to attain commercial success.

Then came Toni Morrison — she turned the page on those so-called limitation­s with her words and deeds. Her books were required reading. The psychologi­cal intensity and impact that her words created were riveting. I often had to read her novels twice to “take it all in” and understand the motivation­s for actions like killing one’s children rather than having them sold into slavery (“Beloved”) or the feeling that if your eyes were blue, you would be more beautiful (“The Bluest Eye”). Even today I find new meaning reading her novels. We knew her characters. Their circumstan­ces not only revealed the scars of racism, they reaffirm how self-hatred is permeated and they underscore mental health crises that can impact anyone regardless of color.

Toni definitely had a special way with words and she used them strategica­lly to get her points across — the ultimate goal of any writer. The quiet power of her prose was like a tsunami sweeping you to other dimensions — and sometimes you never saw it coming.

Most importantl­y her words of advocacy opened the door for more acceptance of black writers, especially black women. Her words pushed back hard against the bias that stories about blacks and women could not be commercial successes. She backed her words by demonstrat­ing that these stories could even win the Pulitzer Prize, as she did, only the second black woman to do so. White women also saw themselves and similar struggles in her black women characters — which helped contribute to crossover success.

In real life, Toni also lived and was motivated by the power of her words. A single mom, she thrived in a powerhouse occupation as editor at Random House, one of New York’s rarefied, all male, all white publishing houses. She experience­d the racism and sexism of the day. When she found out that her male counterpar­ts were making far more than she was for doing basically the same job, she didn’t stomp her feet or scream racism. As was her style, she made her words count. She argued that she, like they, was the head of a household. Enough said.

Her reason and straightfo­rward manner in subtly calling out inequality in her profession paid off for her and the many women she helped walk through the door.

About a week before the world lost this literary treasure, my brunch-and-movie crew buddies and I got together at Coolidge Corner to see the documentar­y of her life (“Toni Morrison: The Pieces That I Am”).

We learned more about this multidimen­sional and gifted woman — in her own words and those of her friends like Angela Davis, Sonia Sanchez and Oprah Winfrey.

Last week when we got word that she had passed away, we made a virtual toast to her with gratitude and appreciati­on for the words captured in her books that made you think about the human condition, her words that opened doors of opportunit­y for others to tell their stories and words that helped the world to see the value of diversity and the black experience.

We can all derive comfort from knowing that Toni Morrison leaves behind words and deeds that will forever be an inspiratio­n for generation­s to come.

 ?? AP FILE ?? FORMALLY RECOGNIZED: Then-President Barack Obama awards author Toni Morrison with a Medal of Freedom during a ceremony at the White House in 2012.
AP FILE FORMALLY RECOGNIZED: Then-President Barack Obama awards author Toni Morrison with a Medal of Freedom during a ceremony at the White House in 2012.
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