Not Like Oprah: Teaching Kids To Shine On Their Own Terms

In 1988, I was thirteen years old and I wanted to be a singer. And a dancer. And a lawyer. And a writer.

One out of four ain’t too bad, I suppose.

I also wanted to be Oprah.

Yes, as in THE Oprah Winfrey. I wanted the big, eighties, feathered hair. The Fashion Fair make-up. And the ability to ask white people provocative questions without fear of the consequences.

For a little brown girl growing up in Louisville, KY, the idea of a young black woman from the South, hosting and ultimately owning her own talk show and production company, was foreign and fascinating and worthy of my admiration.

And though I’d set Oprah in the forefront of my vision, I have to give my mother credit for never, ever, ever telling me that I couldn’t be a writing, dancing, singing, litigating talk show host. By virtue of her not discouraging my lofty ambitions, she taught me that I could be whatever I wanted. To this day, it has never occurred to me that I can’t do whatever I choose to do if I work hard and said task is the will of God for my life.

Oprah was the evidence that proved my mother’s unpremeditated validation.

But with my daughter, I want to take things a step further.

See when I was young, I actually wanted to BE Oprah in every sense. I wrongly believed that she was the standard that I needed to reach for success. But what I’ve come to learn over the years is this: Even Oprah wasn’t “Oprah” when she was 12. By learning to be—not Oprah, but 100% authentically who God has called ME to be—I set my own standard for both success and significance. Like Maya Angelou said, “pursue the things you love doing and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off of you.” 

This is the gift I want to give my sweet baby girl.

She will know that her success and significance in life is solely dependent upon her own God-given capacity, not the capacities of others.  She will understand that no matter how wonderful a public figure may be, her aspiring to “be” them will inevitably place limitations on what she can become because she will end up only measuring her success against theirs. Such small potatoes compared to the vast expanse of love and life and true riches that awaits her in the hands that created her.

I hope to instill this in her by allowing her to explore her gifts, talents and abilities without reservation. And here’s the hard part: I will commit to holding my tongue when her gifts may not align with what I would want for her.

*puts away brochure for that toddler writing workshop*

Even now her gifts are emerging. When I drop my daughter off at school, all of the kids in her class run over and circle her singing “MaKayla’s here, MaKayla’s here!” And it’s funny because even at two she looks at “her” people as if to say, “Yes, yes I am.” LOL!

The old school black mama in me wants to snatch her back and say, “Don’t do that, Baby. Be humble.” And sure, one of the things I’ve mentioned here before is that I want her to learn that while she is beautiful and smart and loved by God, she is no more beautiful or smart or loved by God than the next person. But at the end of the day, I have to see beyond what’s happening “now” in these morning Kayla-fests. My child is a leader. She’s assertive, inquisitive and people are drawn to her. I don’t know what that will look like ten or 20 years from now. I just know that it’s both her dad and my job to nurture and guide her personality positively until her purpose is revealed.

The bottom line? I want my girl to know early on something I didn’t figure out until long after 1988. That it’s certainly fine to admire a public figure; to study them; to learn from their achievements and mistakes. But it’s when she’s groovin’ to her own beat and walking in her own God-ordained purpose that she’s likely to be great. Even greater than—dare I say it—Oprah.

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This post is the latest in Tracey Michae’l Lewis-Giggetts’ “Faith & Motherhood” series.

Photo source: BeautifulBlackBabies.Tumbler.com