A LETTER TO MY HERO

Dear Mom,

You already know that I love you, but what you don’t know is that you’re my idol.

I’m sure it’s not easy being a parent. I hope to know myself one day, but it couldn’t have been easy raising three sons. It would have been difficult enough if all you had to do was pay for our food, but of course there was so much more than that. There were the headaches we caused, the heartaches we dealt with, and the downright stupid shit that we got ourselves into. You were the embodiment of patience while being the stern, disciplined voice we needed.

This alone makes you outstanding, but you’re my hero for so many more reasons. You didn’t just feed me, you inspired me.

As the child of a Lebanese immigrant family growing up in Vicksburg, MS, you were exposed to racism. Dark, curly hair and olive colored skin made you “black” enough to suffer certain forms of discrimination, and I distinctly remember your stories about how, during your childhood, Vicksburg still wasn’t celebrating the 4th of July, the day the city fell to Union forces in 1863.

Despite growing up steeped in the hatred of this environment you found your way to Tulane for undergrad, Columbia for a masters, and finally Yale for a law degree. Doors were open before you, but after a brief stint working for a law firm in New York you returned home to Mississippi.

I recall you telling me how you cried during the plane ride home, asking yourself if you were crazy for returning home after being able to secure an education and opportunities for yourself elsewhere. After working at a major law firm and living in New York, I can only imagine how difficult it must have felt to return to Mississippi.

But you did. You came back to a place that had ostracized you because of misconceptions about your ethnicity (not as though it would have been better had you been ostracized for correct assumptions about your ethnicity). You returned to take a job as a law professor, one with opportunity for advancement certainly, but nowhere near the type of advancement you could have had in New York.

And yet advance is exactly what you did. From law professor to dean of the law school, and finally to Provost of the University of Mississippi, you became one of the first female leaders on campus, and the first — and still only — woman to be the school’s chief academic officer.

During your tenure as Provost you were responsible for opening the university’s Honors College, the Croft Center for International Studies, and the school’s first residential colleges. You helped transform Ole Miss into a modern academic institution capable of giving the students of Mississippi the type of education that you had to leave the state to find. You came back to a place that didn’t always respect you for who you were. You came back to make that place better. And you were successful.

The only accomplishment that could top your time as Provost was an accomplishment that wasn’t, and that is still a testament to your humility and your parenting. Your success at Ole Miss opened the door to more professional opportunities from serving as an attorney on major trials to offerings of positions at the Pentagon during the Clinton presidency. I was old enough to remember when those offers materialized, and I was old enough to remember that you said no to them because you did not want to leave your family. Your career was impressive, but it could have been even more so were it not for your dedication to us: the sons who needed feeding; nagging; and loving.

I hope that I can one day embody your success, your humility, and your commitment to family. If there is someone to emulate, not just in one single aspect of success, but as the sum total of everything achieved, you are that person. You were the Provost who led, the professional who was able to say no, and you still are the mother who loves unconditionally. And you are my hero. Thank you.

#PersonalAccounts