Speaking

I love Malcolm X because he was real. When he stepped on stage, he had paper in front of him. I noticed that. Not a teleprompter, not a polished performance — just his notes, his truth, and his soul. He spoke from the scars and the fire of his life. You could feel it.

Then I look at Barack Obama. He’s skilled, he’s brilliant, and yes, he’s a teleprompter type of politician. He can move a room. But when you study Malcolm X and Obama side by side, there is a difference. It’s not about better or worse — it’s about where the words come from.

Look at Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and the passion — Lord have mercy, there was a difference. You heard the pulpit, the pain, the prayer in his voice. He wasn’t reading at you. He was bleeding truth with you.

I’ve read a lot of books Obama wrote. They’re smart, they’re thoughtful. But there was still an emptiness I recognized, because I’ve seen it in my own family. The absence of a father, the cracks in the family structure — it leaves something missing that no education can fill. You can be gifted and still be searching.

Look at his Facebook page, how the image of him is looking not directly, but to the right. So many people can’t show a frontal photo. In real life they’re there, but missing something. They’re polished, but not present. And I don’t say that to tear down — I say it because I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to look like you have it together while your soul is still healing.

That’s why Malcolm X speaks to me. He owned his story. He owned his past. He owned his paper on the podium. He wasn’t trying to be perfect. He was trying to be free.

And that’s what I’m learning now. I’m learning to have that same drive as I am in real life. Embracing my imperfections and my self to be authentic. Many people can write, but they lack originality and the same voice as in real life. They sound different on paper than they do at the coffee shop.

I’m doing my speech on Wednesday, so I’m reading and preparing in advance. I will use my notes, like Malcolm. But the key is reading, and looking up, and seeing people in the room. Because connection isn’t in the teleprompter — it’s in the eyes. It’s in the pause. It’s in the moment you choose truth over performance.

So here’s my prayer for me, and for anyone listening: May we be brave enough to be whole. To bring our notes, but also bring our heart. To be educated, but also be human. To look straight ahead, not to the right, and let people see us — really see us.

With love and fire,
Cathryn M Murray
www.cathrynmharris.com