The 1990 Essence Awards

THE 1990 ESSENCE AWARDS

As Essence celebrates its twentieth anniversary, we are proud to salute six amazing trailblazers in the arts and one very special drum major for human justice. This year the Fourth Annual Essence Awards are being given to phenomenal women who, with word, song, dance and deed, have broken down barriers, set records and made their dreams come true. They personify the boldness and tenacity of the Essence spirit. Their accomplishments honor us all.

Seven is a very important number for songstress Whitney Houston. That's how many consecutive number-one singles she has had in the five years since she warbled her way up the charts to pop superstardom. Seven consecutive hits - that's more than the

Beatles had, more than Elvis or the Supremes or even Michael Jackson could

claim.

More than anybody.

Blessed with a clear, penetrating voice that one critic said "put the average nightingale to shame," Houston has racked up an impressive list of awards: two Grammys, 11 American Music Awards, three People's Choice Awards and two Emmys for outstanding individual performance. Her first album, Whitney Houston, has sold 9 million copies in the U.S. to date and is the best-selling debut album of all time by a solo female performer. And her second recording, Whitney, became one of only four albums by a single artist to debut at the number-one spot on the album chart - making her the lone female in a prestigious Big Boy musical network composed of Elton John, Stevie Wonder and Bruce Springsteen. In fact, so quickly did fame and success engulf the New Jersey native that, Houston says, it took her a little time to adjust to the limelight her voice commanded. In a recent article she admitted, "I had to catch up on all that Whitney Houston had become. It just took off so fast I had to backtrack."

Although people who are close to the singer declare she wasn't groomed for stardom, Houston was certainly blessed with the right genes. She is the cousin of another famous songbird, Dionne Warwick. But her most powerful influence is her mother, well-known gospel soul singer Cissy Houston, the former lead vocalist of the sixties group the Sweet Inspirations, which sang backup for Elvis Presley and Aretha Franklin, among others. The elder Houston was and still is the minister of music at the New Hope Baptist Church, where her daughter is a member.

With her mother's expert guidance, Houston learned to project and strengthen her voice. Later Cissy Houston taught her daughter studio technique, which she soon put to good use. Houston credits her mother with being both her musical and emotional mentor. In a recent Rolling Stone interview, she said of her mother, "She was always encouraging me to sing. She told me to use my God-given talent. She said, `If you don't use it, God will give it to somebody else.' She gave me birth, love, confidence and constant direction."

By the time she was 15, Houston was singing background vocals on recordings for Chaka Khan and Lou Rawls and backing up her mother on live engagements. While her voice was developing, so was her stunning beauty. When she wasn't singing, Houston was working as a successful teenage model, even appearing on the cover of Seventeen.

With the experience of singing background firmly under her belt, Whitney came to the public's attention when she and Teddy Pendergrass recorded the hit duet

"Hold Me." Not long after, at the tender age of 18, Houston decided she was ready to go out on her own, and she and her mother went shopping for a record deal. Clive Davis, president of Arista Records, Inc., heard Houston perform and signed her, and Houston soon began recording her first album. The combination of Davis as executive producer, the skills of a host of gifted musicians, and Houston's talent and drive was right for a megahit: Whitney Houston established Houston as a pop star who had a big future.

That future includes acting and using her worldwide fame to fund-raise for worthy causes. Recently Houston signed a multipicture development deal with Twentieth Century Fox for projects she will star in and produce through her company, Nippy Productions. And Houston has a heart that's as big as her voice: The singer has given benefit concerts for the United Negro College Fund and for Grambling State and Southern universities, two traditionally Black schools in Louisiana, as well as for AIDS research.

In spite of sold-out shows around the world, the international pop star finds it difficult to rest on her laurels. Yet she resists the pressure of thinking only in terms of outdoing her last effort. She confides, "You do have apprehensions, but if you get into that, `Oh God, this has got to be this, or this has got to be that,' you sort of lose the magic and the creativity that go along with it. You lose what it's all about. It's not mandatory that I sell 13 or 14 million worldwide . . . . It's a matter of just being the best you can be."

Says Shirley Caesar, whose music has been quenching spiritual thirsts for almost 40 years, "I can't take five pounds of sugar and sweeten the Atlantic Ocean, but I can sure make a little bit of lemonade for a few people to drink." The phenomenal Caesar has received five Grammies, 11 Grammy nominations and numerous other awards. She has three gold albums and the well-deserved title First Lady of Gospel. When the multifaceted Caesar isn't singing or writing memorable songs such as "No Charge" and "I Remember Mama," she's preaching the Word as an ordained minister, helping to run city hall as a member of the Durham, North Carolina, City Council and, in addition, feeding and clothing the homeless in her outreach ministry. "I wish I could do more," Caesar says. "People need a message." Born in Durham, Caesar credits her mother, who was a stern disciplinarian, with helping her discover her astonishing vocal talent. "My mother gave my sister Anne and me the job of washing and drying the dishes," Caesar says with a laugh. "The sink was beneath an open window, and my sister and I used to harmonize to make the chore more pleasant. The people in the neighborhood would hear us and then ask us to appear in their churches' programs."

By the time she was 12, Caesar had traded the dishcloth for a microphone and was the youngest member of a local group, Thelma Bumpass and the Royalettes. During the early fifties the group traveled to several neighboring states, singing at churches and schools. After appearing on a local radio station, the gospel-singing deejay, Leroy Johnson, persuaded her to work with him in churches as the other half of a duo. When the plate was passed for "L.J. and Baby Shirley Caesar," it usually came back full.

When she was 19 Caesar left Durham and went to Chicago to become the second lead singer with The Caravans, an established group led by the glorious Albertina Walker, who went on to her own much-heralded career. Caesar remained with that ensemble for eight years, eventually becoming the lead vocalist. When she returned to Durham in the sixties, it was to form her own group, Shirley Caesar and the Caesar Singers.

In her roles as director and founder, Caesar was forced to deal with the business side of gospel. She says, "I remember once when we were doing an engagement in Wichita, the promoter disappeared with all the money. I went looking for him. Later he called and apologized, but he never sent the money. I just took it in stride. I knew that one day the Lord would deliver."

Deliverance wasn't swift, but it was steady. By the sixties the audience for gospel was expanding, and even those unfamiliar with the music were marveling at Caesar's powerful voice. When she recorded the inspirational "Put Your Hand in the Hand of the Man From Galilee" in 1971, the music industry knew it had a major star, and Caesar was nominated for her first Grammy.

Ironically, it was the growing appeal of gospel that was almost Caesar's undoing. By the early 1980's white America was seeing a resurgence of fundamentalist Christianity that made gospel a prime candidate for crossover packaging. Caesar was the logical choice. The results, First Lady, an album that fused gospel and strings, fell flat. "That album wasn't well received," she admits. "There was no ministry in that music."

Facing a tremendous financial and mental struggle, Caesar got down on her knees and prayed for guidance. "I had to put first things first. I am supposed to be bringing a message to people to say that a quitter never wins, that we can't give up our children, that we need to trust God. That's what my music is all about."

Spurred by faith and prayer, Caesar began to record for Work Recordings and with that company's support, came out with Live in Chicago, which stayed number one on the gospel charts for 50 weeks and for which she won another Grammy nomination.

The ubiquitous Caesar sees her many roles as doing God's work. Every July in Durham, Caesar and her husband of seven years sponsor a convention that raises funds for the needy. The singer says that 50 percent of her earnings are used to help those less fortunate than she.

"Gospel will continue to grow and be vibrant," declares Caesar. "We sell more records than jazz or classical because the music brings hope. I thank God for this music, because with it the Lord has given me a platform."

More than 50 years ago, Katherine Dunham created one of the first professional Black dance companies and brought the hip-swaying rhythms of the Carribean to the American stage. Dunham's remarkable achievement was to produce a highly entertaining art form by elegantly merging West Indian folk dances with show-biz razzle-dazzle, at the same time securing global recognition of the Black dance aesthetic. Her stellar career has been marked by film appearances, Broadway engagements, sold-out recitals in 57 countries, and rave reviews. But it wasn't all bright lights and standing ovations: On the road to greatness, Dunham struggled with false starts, racism and financial challenges. The famed choreographer is the first to admit that personal courage was as indispensable to her as the legendary Dunham technique. "There has never been anything I really wanted to do that I didn't feel I could do," says First Lady of Black Dance. "I always believed that if you set out to be successful, then you already were."

Dunham grew up in Joliet, Illinois. She discovered dance at an early age and took master classes from various ballet troupes and dance personalities at the University of Chicago, where she majored in anthropology. But Dunham wanted her own troupe. "Being Black gave me a little more impetus," she says. "I've always believed that if you want something, study it carefully, and you have a good chance of getting it."

In 1929 she met Mark Turbyfill of the Chicago Opera Company. Together they formed the Ballet Negro, an all-Black ballet troupe. The company was ahead of its time, and because of lack of public support it soon disbanded. But Dunham carried on. With the assistance of dancer-choreographer Ruth Page, she opened the Negro Dance School and from it a company, the Negro Dance Group, was formed. That attempt was met with opposition from unexpected quarters: "Negro mothers refused to send their children to me, for fear they might be taught Negro dancing," says Dunham with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Dunham, ever the dedicated anthropologist, began to be intrigued with the idea of a Black dance aesthetic steeped in African rhythms. Without a research budget, the idea at first appeared unfeasible. Then a Rosenwald Fellowship changed her life - and dance history - forever.

Dunham used the grant to travel to Trinidad and Jamaica, where Maroons taught her Koromantee dances remembered from Africa. In Martinique she learned L'Ag'ya, a martial-arts dance form. In Haiti she rented a theater and performed in a one-woman show that left the mesmerized audience cheering.

Back at home, Dunham, assisted by the federal government's Work Programs Administration, formed a company and began showcasing the Afro-Caribbean rhythms she'd learned. She married John Pratt, a stage and costume designer, and the couple collaborated on works that made the nation take notice. The nexus of ballets she created - Tropics and Le Fazz Hot, Primitive Rhythms and The Ballet Br'er Rabbit - soon captivated audiences across the country and thrust Dunham into the limelight. In 1939 choreographer George Balanchine saw one of her productions and summoned Dunham and her company to appear in the Broadway production of Cabin in the Sky.

"Cabin in the Sky was my big break," Dunham recalls. At the close of that show, Hollywood was beckoning. The Katherine Dunham Dancers appeared in Stormy Weather, Star-Spangled Rhythm and Casbah. Her film career segued into a 120-city tour that led to her choreographing major films in Hollywood, Germany and Japan. Over the years she was cultural adviser to the president of Senegal, published books, poems, songs, scientific papers and articles, and established a world-famous dance school that trained the likes of Marlon Brando and Eartha Kitt.

"I always prayed a lot," she says serenely. Her company performed for more than 25 years, years in which Dunham juggled the roles of choreographer, dancer, producer, director and financier. "It was always a financial struggle to keep the company alive," she admits. By 1963, Dunham was ready to try other things. She disbanded her troupe.

She channeled her creativity into social concerns. As president of the Dunham Fund for Research and Development of Cultural Arts, she established a performing-arts training center in East St. Louis, Illinois, and founded a museum and children's workshop. "I used to want the words `She tried' on my tombstone," says the 81-year-old Dunham. "Now I want `She did it.'"

Verdi's opera Aida, which depicts a tragic love affair between an Ethiopian slave girl and an Egyptian military officer, holds particular significance for Leontyne Price. "Aida afforded me the opportunity to luxuriate in 'Black is beautiful.' My interpretation is provocative, because to me Aida is a princess in captivity." The bravura of Price's soprano in a wide range of operas have garnered her worldwide recognition and praise. When President Reagan presented her with the First Medal of Arts in 1985, Opera News wrote, "Her name on a poster or handbill has always been the guarantee of a sold-out performance." She is the recipient of 19 Grammy awards (including a Lifetime Achievement Award), the Kennedy Center Honor, three Emmy awards for prime-time television appearances and, from President Lyndon B. Johnson, the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America's highest civilian award. Price appreciates her honors, but they are not her definition of success. She says proudly, "Of the more than 30 performances I've done at Carnegie Hall, almost half were benefits for the NAACP, for the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change, for the National Urban League and other Black causes. Success is when you have the luxury of doing what you feel like doing."

Growing up in Laurel, Mississippi, Price learned, among other things, to expect nothing less than success. "My parents taught me to be the best human being I could be. They told me that it was wonderful that I was Black and that if I did my best I would be rewarded," she says succinctly. Price became accustomed to applause at an early age: She was a child prodigy, playing the piano for her church and throughout the community while she was still in grammar school. When she was 9 years old, her mother took her by train to Memphis to hear the great Marian Anderson. Later, as she entered her teens, the power and clarity of Price's voice became apparent and foreshadowed her inheritance of the legacy of that great pioneer.

While she was a college student at Central State University in Ohio, it became obvious that Price had the voice of a diva, but she didn't dream of opera stardom. "At that time, no Black would aspire to be an opera singer. One would hope to be a music teacher," admits Price, who initially set her sights upon becoming an educator. Then she journeyed to New York and saw her first opera, Turandot by Puccini. She recalls warmly, "Something inside me said, That's it." Her education at the Juilliard School of Music was financed by wealthy friends of her family, and Price turned her energies toward perfecting her craft.

Her discipline and dedication paid off. She graduated from Juilliard and was soon heard in concert, premiering the works of Stravinsky, Barber, La Montaine and other composers. In 1952, she made her Paris debut. Tours of other European capitals followed, and by the time Price returned to the United States, Europe was at her feet. But although Price was elated with her success abroad, her goal was to join the Metropolitan Opera Company in New York. She made her nationally televised American opera debut on NBC in 1955, followed by a grand opera stage debut two years later in San Francisco. Then came a triumphant return to Europe. By this time the Met was clamoring for an appearance, but Price declined. She delayed her debut at that prestigious hall until 1961, when she appeared as Leonora in Il Trovatore. "The Met was the first mountain I climbed successfully," she says. "I had said no to them when I felt I wasn't ready. When I debuted, I was technically prepared and highly negotiable. I was box-office."

She has been winning accolades from critics and adoration from fans ever since. Nevertheless, Price has had to contend with those in the world of opera who weren't ready to receive her. She is tight-lipped about any trials she has endured in the course of pursuing her dream, saying only, "I was highly naive to think that once the hurdles had been conquered I'd have automatic acceptance. I've paid my price."

It is a small one, compared with the rewards. Price says that one of her current joys is talking to the many youngsters who come backstage after her concert performances, as well as the students in her master classes. Communicating with young people, she says, gives her a chance to mother. And she tries to pass on to them the Mississippi values that molded her into the durable diva she is. "I try to tell them that the most wonderful thing in the world is to be who you are. That to be Black is to shine and aim high."

At one point in the film Claudine, the title character, a welfare mother of six who is portrayed by Diahann Carroll, learns that her eldest daughter and, an unwed teenager, is pregnant. In the scene Carroll rushes toward her daugther and, with a look of frenzy and rage, of absolute love and complete terror, begins beating her child - each helpless strike a profound declaration: "You must not inherit my life." It was one of the most mesmerizing moments in a finely wrought film. So riveting was Carrol's performance that she won an Oscar nomination for Best Actress, and critics who had prematurely pronounced her too sophisticated a performer to play the part of the earthy Claudine had to pile their words upon a plate and dig in.

Diahann Carroll has always outdone herself. Blessed with a gorgeous voice, dramatic talent and striking beauty, in 1968 she became the first Black artist in television history to star as a professional person in her own series. It was NBC's Julia. Her performances have garnered her a Tony award as Best Actress in a Musical for the hit Broadway play No Strings, an Emmy nomination for her guest appearance on NBC's A Different World, sold-out singing engagements and the much-deserved honor of being named, by Harper's Bazaar, one of the ten most beautiful women in the world. "If I hadn't become an entertainer I would have had to make a noise in some other area," Carroll say forthrightly. "I've always had an enormous need to be seen and heard."

Carroll grew up in New York City, the daughter of a subway conductor and homemaker. Recognizing their child's special gifts, her mother and father provided voice and piano lessons. When she became an Ebony model at age 15, it was with her parents' blessings. Later they endorsed her decision to drop out of New York University to take a chance on show business. "My folks told me they'd support me for two years," says Carroll. "If nothing happened I'd return to school."

But in fact everything happened! For three weeks in a row, Carroll won first prize on Chance of a Lifetime,the Star Search of the fifties, and collected $3,000. Before she was 20, Carroll appeared in a supporting role in the film Carmen Jones, and soon after this she was chosen for the ingenue role in the Harold Arlen - Truman Capote production of House of Flowers, her first Broadway how. Then she returned to Hollywood, this time to work in the film Porgy and Bess. By 1962 Carroll had come back to Broadway s the star of Richard Rodgers's No Strings, a musical about a Black fashion model involved with a white writer in Paris. Carroll won a Tony or her performance, and a host of new fans, but she still hadn't become a household name. That changed in 1968, when the actress starred in the title role of Julia, an NBC sitcom bout idowed nurse rearing a little boy. The top-rated show launched Carroll as regular weekly fixture in American homes. Riding a crest of popularity,the actress expected her career easily to lead to film stardom. Instead she learned a hard lesson. "When the show ended," she says, "Hollywood still didn't know what to do with me."

Then, in 1974, the film she'd been waiting for fell into her lap. Her stunning tour de force as Claudine won her rave reviews and worldwide recognition. A few years later she assumed Elizabeth Ashley's lead role in the Broadway smash Agnes of God, a production she calls "the nearest and dearest to my heart," and became one of the few Black actresses to take over a dramatic role created for a white. When that play ended, Carroll spent months relaxing with television and became hooked on nighttime "soaps." "I realized that there was a void I could fill," she says. A call to Aaron Spelling resulted in yet another first for Carroll: She was soon costarring in the blockbuster series Dynasty as Dominique Devereaux, whom Carroll fondly dubs "the first Black bitch on prime-time TV."

These days the star enjoys performing in concerts with her husband, singer Vic Damonte, as well as spending time with her only child, daughter Suzanne. And she recently completed filming The Five Heartbeats, a story about the rise and fall (from 1965 to the present) of a Black singing group; the film is written and directed by Robert Townsend and Keenen Ivory Wayans. Whether another television series happens or not, Carroll says her what is more important to her is the sense of balance she has been able to strike in her life. "I like what I see in the mirror.

Patti LaBelle sings the last line of an old standard so softly that if you're not familiar with the tune, it seems that the ending will be anticlimactic. "If birds fly over the rainbow, why, then, oh why . . . " she croons, the magnificent voice hovering over the unasked question in a plaintive whisper. It's at this exact point in the song that seasoned LaBelle aficionados lean back in their chairs and brace themselves for a musical tornado. Suddenly LaBelle completes the question, " . . . can't I?" hitting piercing, glass-shattering high notes that are half prayer and half ultimatum. She flaps her arms like a strong, soaring bird, dances across the stage in a gospel frenzy - and leaves no doubt in anyone's mind that flying over rainbows is exactly what Patti LaBelle does for a living.

LaBelle doesn't half-step. From her expansive movements and sculptured hair creations to her gum-chewing personality, her ebullient spirit goes all the way, and so has this rock-and-soul queen. In 1962, while LaBelle was still a teenager, her group, Patti LaBelle and the Bluebells, had a big seller with its hit single "I Sold My Heart to the Junk Man." Later in the 1960's the group became a trio when member Cindy Birdsong left to become a Supreme. In 1971 the group revamped its image and became an all-female rock group, the high-spirited LaBelle. Its signature piece and million-selling hit "Lady Marmalade" rocked discos throughout the mid-seventies. After the group disbanded, LaBelle recorded such solo hits as "The Best Is Yet to Come" and, from the Beverly Hills Cop sound track, "New Attitude" and "Stir It Up."

In the early eighties, critics raved about LaBelle's costarring role in the Broadway gospel-musical revival Your Arms Too Short to Box With God. Her solo career picked up speed and included a cameo role in the box-office hit A Soldier's Story, and she acted in several television shows. In 1986 her debut album for MCA Records, Winner in You, went platinum.

LaBelle's achievements have by no means gone unheralded. She has been nominated for four Grammys and an Emmy. She has received Philadelphia's Key to the City and a medal from the Congressional Black Caucus, as well as ACE, NAACP Image and Ebony Achievement awards. And, most important to the star, she is the wife of L. Armstead Edwards and the mother of three sons, two of whom were adopted by the couple.

LaBelle's success may sound as effortless as her high notes, but she is the first to admit that she's had some tough times. Her strong spiritual beliefs and her powerful determination to do it her way have prevailed. "I try to balance my life," says the singer. "When I'm home, I give quality time. And the Patti my family gets isn't the one I take onstage. When I'm on the road, I give the audience the Patti it likes. I know I'm not a Madonna, but I like myself and my success."

It was in the Beulah Baptist Church in Philadelphia, LaBelle's hometown, that the singer's stunning vocal powers were first displayed. Even as a child, when LaBelle took the microphone on Sunday mornings, the members of the congregation had to hold on to their seats. With Cindy Birdsong, a teenage LaBelle sang with The Ordettes. In 1961, when two members dropped out of that group, Nona Hendryx and Sara Dash joined, and soon a new singing sensation - one of the hottest groups of the era - emerged: Patti LaBelle and the Bluebells.

As the mid-sixties ushered in an invasion of British rockers, the Bluebells opted for a stylistic transformation. Donning flamboyant, futuristic outfits that shimmered metallically, the funky trio began to set the disco pace in America. With LaBelle's strong lead vocals and the sweet blending of the background singers, the album Nightbirds made superstars of the group. They toured extensively for several years, singing in sold-out concert halls, but the hectic pace and the demands of the road eventually became too great. As the eighties rolled in, Patti LaBelle, seeking personal growth, entered the new decade as a solo artist. "Being alone onstage caused me to grow," she says.

LaBelle admits that during her initial emergence as a single act she was full of trepidation as she carved out her solo stage persona and musical identity. But her new sound (a fusion of the singer's gospel roots with rhythm and blues and pop), her hold-onto-your-seat concerts and a new attitude have captivated old fans and won her new ones. LaBelle says, "It feels good to know that even if I don't have a hit record, I can fill a house - because the people are always there. I'm happy I've achieved what I have without losing my head."

That night in May 1977 when Winnie Mandela was arrested by the South African Security Branch, she was prepared to go to jail: Under Section 6 of South Africa's Terrorism Act was a provision for indefinite, incommunicado detention "while under interrogation," and Mandela was familiar with it. Since the early 1950's, Mandela had been identified by reactionary white South Africans as a danger to the racist status quo. She had been arrested and even banned - that is, put under virtual house arrest for most of the day, forbidden to meet with more than one person at a time and unable to be quoted by the press, with, in general, her movements severely restricted. But later during that long night, as she faced three officers in the local jail, Mandela found that she wasn't prepared for the harsh new punishment her captors were about to impose upon her: banishment to Brandfort, a remote Afrikaner stronghold.

During the long car ride to the site of her imprisonment, Mandela was silent. Upon seeing for the first time the tiny, filthy cell of a house that would be her home, Mandela felt angry and bitter. But she refused to crack; she endured. And in the days that followed she set out to improve the lives of as many of the Blacks in the town as she could. Concentrating on the desperate hunger in the region, Mandela organized a project to feed the starving children in Brandfort. She also spearheaded a garden project, which distributed vegetable seeds to the local Blacks. And she did even more. But by openly defying the segregation laws, boldly entering stores that displayed WHITES ONLY signs, she sparked that light of resistance in the hearts of her people.

Later, in her 1983 autobiography, Part of My Soul Went With Him, she reflected on the reasons for her continued harassment by the South African government. "I have ceased a long time ago to exist as an individual . . . . The ideals, the political goals that I stand for, those are the ideals and goals of the people in this country . . . . When they send me into exile, it's not me as an individual they are sending . . . . What I stand for is what they want to banish. I couldn't think of a greater honor."

She was born Nomzamo Winifred Madikizela on September 26, 1936, in a small village in the Transkei called Pondoland, one of the barren "homelands" of South Africa and at that time one of the country's most undeveloped areas. She was one of nine children; her parents were both teachers. Her father instilled in his daughter a sense of her history that pricked her nascent political consciousness. She wrote in her autobiography, "You tell yourself: `If they failed in those nine Xhosa wars, I am one of them and I will start from where those Xhosas left off and get my land back . . .'"

A brilliant student, Mandela attended college in Johannesburg and upon her graduation in 1956 became the first Black medical social worker in South Africa. During her years at the university, Mandela attended meetings of the African National Congress. Soon thereafter she met Nelson Mandela, a lawyer and political activist with the ANC, who was under indictment for treason when the couple married in 1958. Mandela became chairman of local branches of the Federation of South African Women as well as the ANC's Women's League. In 1958 she became involved in organizing the ANC's antipass protest, a movement designed to abolish the law that required Blacks over age 16 to carry an identification pass with them at all times. Pregnant at the time (she has two daughters), Mandela was arrested and imprisoned for two weeks. Her political activities continued after her husband was imprisoned in 1963 and given a life sentence for attempting to overthrow the South African government. During the sixties Mandela helped establish study groups for Black South African youths in order to teach them South African history and politicize them, and she continued to organize and demonstrate against the racist regime.

Winnie Mandela's stalwart grace under pressure and her persistent activism in the face of white South African tyranny have made her a powerful global force. Defying the banning orders by conducting interviews with foreign journalists, the spokeswoman has continued to shed light on the ongoing freedom struggle in her country. Perhaps Nelson Mandela said it best, upon his release after 27 years in prison: "I must compliment my wife. She has been a tower of strength to me during these 27 year . . . . She has been the center of the political struggle in this country."

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