The Trifecta (February Part II)

I’m glad I wrote enough to keep you engaged. I promise it’s worth it, so let’s get right back in. Seven days…that’s all it took. It just took seven days to go from a huge problem that everyone wanted a solution to, to a rushed solution that had tons of feedback with it. Here’s how those days went. I wanted to first mention that when the idea originally came to my mind about the Gaylord Strong campaign, I didn’t think about who to really tell it all to. It was created in the office of the assistant to the dean. It if wasn’t for one of my friends (who also happened to be in the professor’s class that day) who introduced me to her, then I wouldn’t even have a story to tell. I first told my friend who was in the class. We then collaborated with my treasurer, the president of our student government, and an exec member of another diverse organization in Gaylord.

That’s who it was at first. That night, I knew there was one guy I was more excited to tell than anyone else, and that was my historian of NABJ. We had bonded quite a few times beforehand, but I was excited to tell him, because I felt like we had similar mindsets. Of all the executives I wanted to tell, he was the one I was least worried about telling. The look of understanding of where I was coming from and what I wanted to come from it made my vision seem more real than ever. I carried that feeling that what I was doing was the right thing into the next day. (If you’re smart, you already know I’ve made a huge mistake, but we’ll keep going anyways).

By the time Friday had come around, I forgot I was even a student. I was in multiple meetings with not just the dean of our college, but other staff members and administration at OU. I was missing classes and cutting my work hours short, just so I could make it all work. When I dedicate myself to something, I put my all in it, because why the hell not. This is when things got messy. Here’s the thing. I can tell you in order of my executives who I told this plan to. The first one was my treasurer, who when I told him, it gave him some form of hope. I never in my life saw him down before. He was always someone who joked around and didn’t let things affect him too much. This did though. Telling him and bringing a smile to his face was the reward, because it was something moving forward, and made sense. It was like him and I were building something that was going to combat this.

Up until my vision was created, there was only this sense of depression and failure circulating throughout me. I wanted to just write my novel for my class and forget about the whole thing. I couldn’t do that though, because that wasn’t right at all, no matter how demanding it was. When the vision started gaining traction now, that feeling of failure was fading. It manifested itself into an eager excitement. It was almost as if I had a huge secret that I was happy to tell certain people and add their opinions to it.

I didn’t let my emotions takeover me when I was down…but they did take hold when I was back up. That Friday, my public relations chair needed me to do an interview for her. It was my first time seeing her in person since before the incident. When the interview was over, I dropped the entire idea on her. Back then, my smile and happiness were able to mask over the confusion she was feeling about it. I didn’t know at the time her feelings about it. I didn’t give her time to tell me. I just dropped it on her. The wristbands were already ordered, and I was moving forward with it because… (yeah, I struggle trying to find the answer to that even to this day).

She just smiled and thought it was cool. I knew her actual personality though. I knew that she wanted to say something, but it wasn’t the right time to say it. It was like she didn’t want to burst my bubble of happiness. (How sweet right? She’s genuine for that). I wish she did though. I really wish she did at that moment.

By Friday night, I was putting together plans to make things work out the best for everyone. Then Saturday came. (I told you earlier to keep track of something didn’t I?) Of all the people I told this campaign to, I forgot the most important person of them all…my own vice president. The women who pushed me the most to stay a part of this group, the woman who ushered in great innovative ideas for our group and had a passion that I always wanted in a fellow executive…was left hanging dry.

Between Feb. 11th and Feb. 15th, I never crossed paths with her. We both were busy. (That's also not an excuse). She’s not just the VP of NABJ, she was doing tons of other things that preoccupied her time too. She worked hard on her other school assignments and events for her sorority because she’s someone who just doesn’t fucking quit. (That’s why she’s good at what she does).

However, I failed at the most important job as the president, making sure everyone was on the same page.

I have seven other executives in my group, by Saturday, just a few days before we were supposed to release this campaign, not even all the people in the group this campaign is coming from knew about it. (You’re an idiot Isiah, what happened?)

I don’t know, I wanted to do something unique, I didn’t want to feel like I had felt for the previous three years, like the president who smiled, waved, and didn’t express himself enough about things. I didn’t want to sit back and watch something crumble in front of me, like it was years prior. I was doing so much in such a short time, just trying to move forward and not allow myself to become numb and turn away like I naturally wanted to.

I am professional writing major who lead a group called the National Association of Black Journalists, and my vice president is a more qualified journalist than myself. I wanted to tell her in person. She was the FIRST person I should’ve told. I didn’t though because I just let it all slip through. I didn’t let anger and pain consume me and blind me when the incident happened. However, excitement for something better certainly did blind me, when it came to finding a solution. We hashed it out. It essentially was too late to make a lot of changes to exactly what was going to happen.

Edited NABJ press release by myself and my VP.

I need to throw some more info in so that this doesn’t seem too cloudy right now. After the incident occurred on the 11th, the very next day, my VP and Philanthropy chair got together and made a press release. It was my VP, our advisor for NABJ and I in the room when we checked it over for the final time and sent it out. It had her name and my name on it. I didn’t write any of it though. (But damn, honestly it couldn’t have been written any better than that, so I was all for it). My VP called for changes in the college that she had been voicing out loud for a while. They were the same things I wanted too.

We both wanted more inclusion, staff of color and a place to feel cared about. She was passionate about finally seeing Gaylord change into something much more inclusive than what it was. The emotion I saw was raw, and powerful, because we both knew that we had the voices and power to make a difference now. Most importantly though, we knew that this incident was our launching point for making change (because it couldn't be ignored or forgotten easily). After the press release went out, I got calls from the New York Times, USA Today and other big news outlets about wanting the press release for themselves. This had become a huge story now. It was circulating on the news.

The University of Oklahoma is one thing, but Gaylord college is its own entity that lives and breathes on its own sometimes. Gaylord was now on front street, exposed for something that as I said earlier “was much grayer than I imagined.” It didn’t matter though. What mattered now was channeling all that news buzz from negativity and changing it into solidarity and a way of moving forward different than OU had done before with racial incidents. No need for a march, or megaphones of even wearing all black. It was such a different scenario, that seeing any of that as a retaliation to the incident would’ve honestly made my physically sick.

The ball was in NABJ’s court, and let’s just say that our starting line up didn't know the game plan before the actual game itself. The disappointment I saw from her made me realize that I gave it everything I had thus far to try to make things right, but I was trying to do it almost alone, so that other people wouldn’t have to go through the mental hoops I was. It was as if multiple versions of myself I wanted to be were pulling me away from the actual version of myself I NEEDED to be.

So, who was making this happen with me if it wasn’t all my core NABJ members?

A close friend who has a history in Gaylord eerily like mine. The path he took to get where he was and be who he was formed a bond that made him trust my vision of Gaylord Strong. He was also the guy who originally pitched the idea of the NABJ website and was there in the beginning when we were both freshmen. Plus, he was a public relations major, so the aspect of expanding this vision to resonate with more than just the OU community was a goal. It got too big in my own head though.

What did your partner think when you told her about Gaylord Strong?

She wanted me to focus on being Isiah the student, not Isiah the activist. She didn’t want me to wrap myself too much into it, because I alone couldn’t change everything, I needed help, and more importantly, I needed more structure and time. (I should’ve listened).

My close public relations friend worked on all the graphic stuff for this event we wanted to put together. It was going to be a night to unveil the Gaylord Strong campaign to everyone, give out the wristbands, and just other aspects of the campaign that would be long-lasting. I wanted the words Gaylord Strong to run across our giant screen outside the building everyday at the time of the incident to remind people that we move stronger together.

At the black town hall I gave my speech at, my friend of mine pitched the idea of getting proceeds to help fund NABJ and other diverse organizations in Gaylord so that the events and information sessions we put on could better educate people within the college and community. I even thought of having the website that we finally made, be the main hub of where people could voice their opinions, so they didn’t feel silent. It was like I envisioned bringing everything back around full circle almost.

I thought of so many things, just to make people feel better. I tried my best to collectively address everything. Gaylord Strong Isiah was doing alright. The student...not so much. I would go to my capstone class defeated, looking at a room of ninety-nine percent white people as I sat next to one of the only other black students in my major. (IN MY MAJOR). I would sit in class preparing day after day for this big event to help people feel better. The other students in class believed in it and wanted to know how it was going to be solved, because it was a national story, being handled by a bunch of twenty-year-old students in a weeks’ time.

The reason why it had to be a week, was because the disgust of how other racial incidents at OU got essentially swept under the rug or fizzled out. NOT THIS TIME. The narrative was directed away from the professor saying the word, to more so “How can we as Gaylord do better and include everyone and make things right.” (Damage control would be the appropriate term for this).

But Isiah, didn’t you say one of your own executives broke the news in the first place? What about them? Did you tell them?

I did, later than the VP. I didn’t want to disturb them, or worry them with the entire thing. I learned quickly not to dump it on someone, but instead to ease it in, because I saw with my own eyes what talking about it did to them. It was a difficult choice. We eventually got them to come with us to the meetings to planning this big Gaylord Strong reveal event. Her opinion and thoughts were valued, but honestly got undermined by the timeline of how everything was gonna come together. (Another mistake I know right).

I was doing interviews, long board meetings, running around the campus and losing my own mind during these seven days. We set the date for Feb 18th. I knew since the beginning of February that our Public Relations chair’s birthday was that day. She was turning 21, so you know, it’s a big deal.

So, the Monday before the event arrives. The assistant to the dean told me the wristbands were in. They looked good and it still put some hope in me.

There was one thing missing from the whole thing before we could move onto the actual day.

We had to have a meeting, the night before…to put it all together. I walked into that room and saw all the executives that now knew about Gaylord Strong altogether. This was the FIRST time we all were together talking about it. It was Isiah’s turn to face the consequences of fucking it up this badly. I had this feeling like it was going to be a tongue lashing of some sorts. Instead though, it was almost innocent. It was adult. Emotions were raw in the room as we put together what we ALL wanted to see moving forward. It turns out that we were able to get to somewhat of a same page. Shit wasn’t perfect because my head wasn’t even in the right place. Like most people, especially college seniors, you just constantly have stuff going through your mind that drains you that you don’t even tell other people.

I probably had a few assignments on the back-burner, some hours of work I wished I had back, and tons of hours of sleep I'd trade back for anything. But in that room, it was me who faced humility. The kid who got lucky being president as a freshman with not many people bringing up his vision, now as a senior, had to take a vision he created almost all on his own and allow it to be molded into something different.

As a writer, you get used to people criticizing your work and wanting things to be better. I didn’t mind opinions on changing things because I saw something that night in all of us. I just saw this little light of like “wow, this is actually gonna be okay, because at least they care.” They care enough to tell me how they feel, and what they want to see and change. I was a part of another organization in Gaylord that even put my face up on the wall that made me feel much less than I ever expected to feel. I always wanted to be in a group where people just tried, were honest, not fabricated, and thought of improving the diverse community within the college.

That’s what the fuck we did in that room. We put the whole thing together, in order of who was gonna speak, down to what was going to be said and how it was all going to go. During the previous six days, I imagined so many people would want to see this. These students taking on an issue together and making a difference together. I remember waking up that Tuesday morning in a mood I hadn’t felt in a while. My partner hugged me tight and told me no matter what, I’m still Isiah the writer, and that it wasn’t my job to please everyone.

During the middle of that day, our Public Relations chair invited all of us to her birthday party that night. Again, she was turning 21, so it’s a big deal and I care more about other people’s birthday’s than my own. (I know I’m not the only one that feels that way). I mainly texted my historian the day of the event, because at this point, he was like a closer friend now. He kept my head above water and told me that after the whole event was over, we’d just enjoy the party afterward and have a great time. I had something to look forward to at the end of the night. Now, it was just about getting through the actual event itself. (Hmmm, preparing for an event to do something you put your all into…sounds like I’ve done it before, almost like I’ve RAN through it over 100, or maybe even 200 times).

Flyer for NABJ's Words Voices Action

The people that spoke that night were my public relations friend who created the logo, flyer and other aspects of Gaylord strong, my public relations chair of NABJ (remember, this was her 21st birthday and she still came and delivered expertly, that’s just a genuine person right there), my VP, treasurer, historian, the girl who was in the class and introduced me to the assistant to the dean (so people could get a recap of what actually happened), and myself. We covered it all.

• We included the land acknowledgement.

• We talked about the new staff member of color coming to OU.

• We reiterated the changes we wanted to see in the college moving forward to be more inclusive.

• We broke down how the website was going to give a platform for people to speak their minds on.

• Then… I revealed Gaylord Strong itself.

Gaylord Strong Speech.docx

Download DOCX • 17KB

When I stood up there at that podium reading how I felt about this vision that came to me just six days prior, I had the time to both read, and reflect. Coming out of my mouth was this speech.

However, going through my head was this episodic flashback of all the things I didn’t even type in here that I went through mentally to get here. I could’ve easily walked away, given up, been numb and not cared and just let the other people take care of it. I didn’t though because I fought for something. This entire incident happened in Gaylord; it was about a racial slur used that affects black people. There’s only ONE group that’s black in Gaylord, and I was the President. Not a reoccurring member. Not someone who joined and then left. I stayed the whole time, for moments like this. I got up there and openly revealed to everyone that the first person to get a Gaylord strong wristband…was the professor who used the n word himself. (What a fucking twist right?)

What a coon thing to do huh? (It’s my blog, I can say what I want). A black guy finding a way to sympathize a white guy who used the n word in the context so nonthreatening, that it still sounds weird to re-tell this day. If that’s how you view it, whatever, but if you’ve REALLY been reading, it’s nothing like that. Like I said, by this time, the narrative wasn’t about him, it was about how to move forward. This wasn’t like the two girls the year prior who painted black face and said the n word. This wasn’t like the man walking on campus corner with black face either.

This was so fast spreading and dangerous like those incidents, but the person’s intentions were nowhere near the same. I didn’t get up there and defend him for saying it at all. I acknowledged that it was wrong. I acknowledged it multiple times in that seven day span too. I just saw and heard things that I know if you (yeah you) would have heard, then maybe you’d have a hard time probably not doing something similar yourself.

It’s weird how we want to divide and conquer things so much in this world and jump to conclusions and point fingers and direct all the anger and hurt and pain onto just one person. In this case, I wasn’t gonna let that happen. That night, the anger, pain, and discomfort everyone in Gaylord felt for the last seven days, somehow someway manifested itself into something new. By the time, the event was over with, I had never been more exhausted in my life. I felt like I ran a whole marathon with ankles weights and a weighted vest on in the scorching sun. (Or I felt like I ran the 4x4 relay, only certain people get that one). I just felt tired. When people went to put on the Gaylord Strong wristbands, I almost wanted to breakdown. Here was this simple peace of rubber with words on it, like my own families, that somehow made people in that room feel better.

I may have given up time being a student and work for OU, but I got some time in that seven days to just be the most vulnerable version of myself, someone who wanted to make others feel better and believe in something.

I wasn’t the president of NABJ, or an ambassador or Gaylord college, or the former student athlete. Hell, I wasn’t even the writer. I was just Isiah, finding a way to turn something bad, into something good. I couldn’t keep going to class everyday fighting this pressure to get it all right, because I knew the whole time I wasn’t. You give things a shot and see what happens.

Some people will like it, others…not so much.

That’s just life, and I’m grateful my mother always taught me that, because when I wanted to lay on the ground and cry my eyes out thinking that I failed, instead, I smiled, put on a wristband, and headed to my historians place to pre-game before the birthday party. (I wish I could make a blog about that, but it wasn’t my birthday).

In just twenty-four hours, we went from executives who were figuring out how to get on the same page, to just being friends with no titles having the time of our lives at a bar celebrating one of our owns birthday’s. We laughed, joked, and just felt better. It didn’t matter what was going to happen next, I just knew we all had each other’s backs.

You make mistakes in this world. Letting them consume and define you is never the way to getting better. My executives showed me that. They didn’t let me fall. They picked me up and didn’t give up on me. Our adviser for the organization even Facebook lived the event, kind of like a proud mom to her kids doing something almost. I had already been given up on in other groups, but not with them. We just had fun. The next day, more people wore the wristbands, talked about the event, and even thanked some of us for what we did. If I could just make one person feel better by them wearing that thing, then I succeeded. The vision I had in my head was real. How crazy right?