The Golden
Globes has come and gone but not without some beautiful moments.
TV personality legend and philanthropist,
Oprah Winfrey became the first black woman to receive the Cecil B. DeMille
Lifetime Achievement Awards.
Oprah who was also clad in
black to support the protest against sexual harassment and predators gave an
inspiring speech and this went on to become the unofficial highlight of the
night.
Read the speech below:
“In 1964, I
was a little girl sitting on the linoleum floor of my mother’s house in Milwaukee watching Anne
Bancroft present the Oscar for best actor at the 36th Academy Awards. She
opened the envelope and said five words that literally made history: “The
winner is Sidney Poitier.” Up to the stage came the most elegant man I had ever
seen. I remember his tie was white, and of course his skin was black, and I
had never seen a black man being celebrated like that. I tried many, many times
to explain what a moment like that means to a little girl, a kid watching from
the cheap seats as my mom came through the door bone tired from cleaning other
people’s houses. But all I can do is quote and say that the explanation in Sidney’s performance in
“Lilies of the Field”:
Amen, amen, amen, amen.
In 1982, Sidney received the Cecil B. DeMille award right here at the
Golden Globes and it is not lost on me that at this moment, there are some
little girls watching as I become the first black woman to be given this same
award. It is an honour — it is an honour and it is a privilege to share the
evening with all of them and also with the incredible men and women who have
inspired me, who challenged me, who sustained me and made my journey to this
stage possible. Dennis Swanson who took a chance on me for “A.M. Chicago.” Quincy
Jones who saw me on that show and said to Steven Spielberg, “Yes, she is Sophia
in ‘The Color Purple.'” Gayle who has been the definition of what a friend is,
and Stedman who has been my rock — just a few to name.
I want to thank the Hollywood Foreign
Press Association because we all know the press is under siege these days. We
also know it’s the insatiable dedication to uncovering the absolute truth that
keeps us from turning a blind eye to corruption and to injustice. To — to
tyrants and victims, and secrets and lies. I want to say that I value the press
more than ever before as we try to navigate these complicated times, which
brings me to this: what I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most
powerful tool we all have. And I’m especially proud and inspired by all the
women who have felt strong enough and empowered enough to speak up and share
their personal stories. Each of us in this room are celebrated because of the
stories that we tell, and this year we became the story.
But it’s not just a story affecting the entertainment industry. It’s one
that transcends any culture, geography, race, religion, politics, or workplace.
So I want tonight to express gratitude to all the women who have endured years
of abuse and assault because they, like my mother, had
children to feed and bills to pay and dreams to pursue. They’re the women whose
names we’ll never know. They are domestic workers and farm workers. They are
working in factories and they work in restaurants and they’re in academia, engineering,
medicine, and science. They’re part of the world of tech and politics and
business. They’re our athletes in the Olympics and they’re our soldiers in the
military.
And there’s someone else, Recy Taylor, a name I know and I think you should
know, too. In 1944, Recy Taylor was a young wife and mother walking home from a
church service she’d attended in Abbeville, Alabama, when she was abducted by
six armed white men, raped, and left blindfolded by the side of the road coming
home from church. They threatened to kill her if she ever told anyone, but her
story was reported to the NAACP where a young worker by the name of Rosa Parks
became the lead investigator on her case and together they sought justice. But
justice wasn’t an option in the era of Jim Crow. The men who tried to destroy
her were never persecuted. Recy Taylor
died ten days ago, just shy of her 98th birthday. She lived as we all have
lived, too many years in a culture broken by brutally powerful men. For too
long, women have not been heard or believed if they dare speak the truth to the
power of those men. But their time is up. Their time is up.
Their time is up. And I just hope — I just hope that Recy Taylor died
knowing that her truth, like the truth of so many other women who were
tormented in those years, and even now tormented, goes marching on. It was
somewhere in Rosa Parks’ heart almost 11 years later, when she made the
decision to stay seated on that bus in Montgomery, and it’s here with every
woman who chooses to say, “Me too.” And every man — every man who chooses to
listen.
In my career, what I’ve always tried my best to do, whether on television
or through film, is to say something about how men and women
really behave. To say how we experience shame, how we love and how we rage, how
we fail, how we retreat, persevere and how we overcome. I’ve interviewed and
portrayed people who’ve withstood some of the ugliest things life can throw at
you, but the one quality all of them seem to share is an ability to maintain
hope for a brighter morning, even during our darkest nights. So I want all the
girls watching here, now, to know that a new day is on the horizon! And when
that new day finally dawns, it will be because of a lot of magnificent women,
many of whom are right here in this room tonight, and some pretty phenomenal
men, fighting hard to make sure that they become the leaders who take us to the
time when nobody ever has to say “Me too” again.”
Check out the video below...
