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Page 2 of 2 The author seems to take special umbrage at Winfrey’s 2002 launch in South Africa of the first international edition of O, The Oprah Magazine.
“Oprah would subsequently claim a genetic tie to the Zulu people as
further endorsement of her righteous role in the nation’s development,”
Lofton writes. “The descendant of slaves was now returning to her
continental origin to compel the unconverted.” Lofton
is similarly leery of the $40-million Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy
for Girls (a private boarding school) that opened outside of
Johannesburg in 2007. Winfrey funded the school and oversaw every detail
of the twenty-two-acre campus that features a yoga studio, a beauty
salon, high-tech theaters, and museum quality pieces of original tribal
art. “Beautiful
environments inspire beauty in you,” Winfrey said, unapologetically,
about her central role in the design of the academy. “I said from the
start, I am creating everything in this school that I would have wanted
for myself—so the girls will have the absolute best my imagination can
offer.” Lofton
takes a different slant. “No matter the racial composition of the
missionary relationship… it [is] predicated on a fundamental difference
between the proselytizers (white or black) and the proselytes,” the
author asserts. “For Oprah, the postcolonial colonizer… the only reason
to justify her philanthropic presence—is material inequality. These
[Leadership Academy] girls may have wisdom greater than any faraway
bureaucrat or invading missionary. But they don’t have yellow tiles or
Body Shop soaps to line their cluttered outhouses. And this donation is
where Oprah’s mission begins.” Writing
in a January 2007 Salon.com article about “haters” of the Leadership
Academy, Rebecca Traister observed: “Winfrey might have known that news
of her students’ swank surroundings might not wash with American
critics, who don’t bat an eye at white hotel heiresses dancing on
banquettes, or reality shows about sweet-sixteen parties at budgets that
could build a home for a Katrina victim. But impoverished black girls
sleeping on nice-ish sheets? That didn’t go over so well. The affronted
sense that these girls deserved only bare-minimum accommodations and
that a private citizen's money should have been used to educating them
in bulk rather than in gracious individual style reflects our own
beliefs that the bare minimum is all poor (black) girls need.” I
believe that Winfrey’s moral values and ethic of care stem from her
upbringing in the traditional black Baptist church where the nurturing
of youth (especially those of promise) and public service have long been
cornerstones of the institution. From an early age, the elders at her
small, rural parish in Kosciusko, Mississippi (population about seven
thousand) praised Winfrey for oratory gifts that apparently included
Oscar-worthy recitations of the story of Daniel in the lions’ den. The
affirmation Winfrey received in church honed her allegiance to “everyday
people” and endowed her, spiritually, with a personal sense of
unlimited potential. In that regard, Winfrey’s magnificent journey
mirrors that of Aretha Franklin, whose legendary career began as the
premier soloist in New Bethel Baptist Church in Detroit, where her
father was minister. “I
always knew I was going to do well in life,” Winfrey has said, her
painful childhood notwithstanding. “I always believed that whatever I
wanted… I could get—I have such stable roots.” An
avid reader (as evidenced by her Book Club), Winfrey’s vision has also
been shaped by the great blossoming of black women’s literature that
began in the seventies. In addition to The Color Purple, she has cited as cherished books such works as I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat, and Song of Solomon
by Toni Morrison. All the works delve, unflinchingly, into the
hardships of black life but ultimately deliver restorative messages of
redemption. Perseverance is a common theme in the books; one that
resonates with Winfrey and that she imparts to her millions of viewers
in more than 140 countries. In keeping with the major tenets of
Buddhism, Winfrey, through her empathy, honesty, authenticity, and
philanthropy, has crafted a life in which she has been, without
question, of benefit to others. Spiritually
and morally, Winfrey is asking people to take responsibility for their
lives. “I believe that I have a higher calling. What I do goes beyond
the realm of [normal] parameters,” Oprah has said. “A bonding of the
human spirit takes place.” Approached in 1999 by Hearst media (owner of, among other properties, Redbook, Cosmopolitan, and Esquire)
about extending her message of uplift through a monthly publication,
Oprah reputedly replied: “Why do I need a magazine? I already have a
full-time job that speaks to women all over the world.” As
Lofton tells it, Winfrey was soon swayed by the opportunity to publish a
spirit-infused but secular guide (read: Bible) for women of all races,
sizes, ages, and backgrounds. Between the covers of the ad-packed glossy
magazine, readers would find Oprah-intoned advice on topics ranging
from debt reduction to proper bra fittings to the purchase of
“alligator-embossed leather notepads” and “black button sage honey.” It could be that I missed Winfrey’s announcement about her intention for O to vanquish The New Yorker, Harper’s, The Walrus,
and other periodicals that have been lauded for their stylish, timely,
and probing coverage of the arts, culture, and politics. But I don’t
believe Winfrey ever pitched her eponymous magazine as a “must read”
platform for investigative journalism or rigorous intellectual debate. While I routinely pick up a free, outdated copy of O from
the swap pile at my local recycling center, I have not purchased a
single issue since its inaugural 2000 release. For me, the magazine
evokes (without disappointment or rancor) the seventies soul hit by The
Dramatics: “Whatcha See is Whatcha Get.” Asked
to reflect on the events of September 11, 2001, I doubt that a
reference to the queen of daytime television would leap from anyone’s
lips. Yet Lofton suggests that in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks
Winfrey emerged as a symbol of the nation’s starstruck sensibilities. She
takes issue with Winfrey’s role as emcee at the interfaith “Prayer for
America” ceremony that was held at Yankee Stadium two weeks after the
tragedy. “Who
could best organize the assorted religious vestments and somber
political suits into a soothing visual and spiritual clarity? Oprah
Winfrey,” Lofton writes, “was America’s assembly, she was America’s
love, she was America’s preacher queen.” “Preachers
and saleswomen share the common ambition to convert the multitudes
under their advertising slogans proposing exclusivity,” continues
Lofton, contending that Winfrey “conjures a religious space in regard to
her country’s mythic dream, becoming a site of ritual and moral
transaction for a nation possessed by the idea of a plural marketplace
for everyone’s dreams.” It
seems that the massive impact of Winfrey’s fame and wealth overshadows
the real hardships she once endured, and Lofton gives short shrift to
the obstacles Winfrey faced as a black girl growing up in segregated
Mississippi. I
imagine that as Winfrey busily harvests pearls for her life and for the
lives of others, she finds inspiration in Zora Neale Hurston, best
known for her 1937 novel Their Eyes Were Watching God
(which Winfrey produced in 2005 as a television movie starring Halle
Berry). Writing in a 1928 essay, “How It Feels to Be Colored Me,”
Hurston declared: “I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow
damned up in my soul, nor lurking in my eyes… No I do not weep at the
world—I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”
Evelyn C. White is the author of Chain Chain Change: For Black Women in
Abusive Relationships and Alice Walker: A Life. She lives on Salt Spring
Island, British Columbia.
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