MY TRUTH: A True Legacy!

By Cheryl Smith

It’s hard to speak about her in past tense. She is ever present.

Retired Congresswoman Eddie Bernice Johnson was meticulous in her thoughts, words, and actions.

In 2021, as she approached 30 years of serving in the U.S. House of Representatives and pondered retirement, I listened to her – very intently.

Over the many years I covered her as a journalist, I learned she spoke only when she wanted – or felt a need to.

Previously I heard that she was calling it quits. I didn’t bat an eye, though.

Community people always talked. Some chomped at the bits, just waiting to take her seat in the nation’s Capital, even if they were clueless about what the job entailed.

In recent months, it seemed, “the Congresswoman,” as I continued calling her, was constantly in a state of reflection: She was experiencing losses in her family.

Friends were transitioning.

Her good friend and fellow Congress member John Lew-is, was one who left us in 2020, when he was 80. At age 88, she was the eldest member of the House at 88, when she stepped down after the 117th Congress ended in January 2023.

Part of life after Congress came with her becoming more vocal about what she wanted to see next. She wanted youth-ful leaders to step up. She also wanted more Blacks in leadership in the House and Senate.

She especially wanted the latter after so many, including the local clergy, had implored her to stay another term. After all, this was a woman whom presidents implored to continue serving.

Presidents Clinton and Obama both treasured her leadership. Each appreciated her analytical prowess. They valued her ability to forge relationships and strategize to achieve common goals.

When asked to share my thoughts on the retired congresswoman, I didn’t hesitate even though frequently Black journalists are often held to different standards.

Other writers frequently are relied on – even valued – for offering context on elected figures from their communities: The media industry widely considers their commentary as “objective” and “accurate.”

By contrast, Black journalists historically have been pulled off such assignments.

Editors by and large have questioned whether they would – or could – be fair.

This industry practice has infuriated me. I’ve been around long enough to remember a time when journalists were pressured to be “objective” – even their voting, attendance at worship services or having an opinion on anything or anybody was frowned upon – unless it fell in line with “mainstream” industry’s agenda.

I’ve lived in Dallas for more than 40 years. I’ve written hundreds of stories and columns about people in my communities.

Why should I be prevented from giving a perspective about someone I knew, someone I covered?

Was I a fan of the Congress-woman? Nothing is fanatical about my thoughts of her.

Did I agree with everything she did or said? Heck, looking back, I don’t agree with everything I, myself, have done or said!

Did I cover her accurately and fairly? Yes, that’s what I was taught at Florida A&M University.

She seemed to respect my work, and I respected hers.

I have come to better understand the plight of women, especially Black women in this world, because she helped me on this journey.

Sure, I’ve heard she was a tough administrator. Some joked about her office staff’s turnover rate.

Okay. So what? Had she been a man, no one would have uttered a word. In fact, I believe, some of the men and women who worked for her never would have committed some of the infractions that resulted in their firings, had the Congress “woman” been a Congress “man.”

She has explained why she was tough on her staff. Today, I can say two words: I understand.

Now I understand why, at a microphone, she talked about her work. Doing so was not necessarily because she wanted to tout her accomplishments. Often, when she was interviewed, it was not because of her own ground-breaking work in the areas of veterans or women’s rights, science, technology, LGBTQ initiatives, or modernizing transportation.

Instead, the media called on her for comments on what other elected officials, mostly Black, were doing – or not doing.

I also understand why she didn’t share many of her deeds or good will to others. She was a lady with class and old-school manners. She would never spill the personal business: about whom she got out of jail, shielded from embarrassing situations, kept from losing their homes or jobs, or guided into rehab.

She wouldn’t dare.

As the first Black woman elected to public office from Dallas, the Congresswoman knew the challenges women before her had endured.

She was honest, sincere, quick witted, humorous and always alert. She was discerning: She didn’t tolerate foolishness, fools, or trifling behavior. Nor did she forget.

She sacrificed by being with other folks’ families instead of her own; all the while dealing with issues and serving with grace.

I spent the day in her Washington, D.C. office attending meetings and receptions before going to hear former President Donald Trump’s State of the Union address. By the end of the day, I welcomed the ride home. This woman, several decades older than I, had a pace that was challenging to maintain, even among her admirers, of which she had many.

I witnessed the admiration up close at the unveiling of her portrait that hangs in the Science Committee Room, alongside the previous chairMEN of the U.S. Committee on Science, Space and Technology.

During a private moment in the congresswoman’s office, after the portrait unveiling, Luci Baines Johnson, the “first daughter” of former President Lyndon B. Johnson, passed gifts to the congresswoman. “You have always done the right thing by all of us,” she said.

The compliment sums up Eddie Bernice Johnson’s life.

As a retiree, I saw her resilience. She remained steadfast and focused on causes and worked almost as hard as when she was in Congress.

Regrettably, she didn’t live to release her book, expected in 2024.

It would have been great to have attended book signings and heard her candid and informative anecdotes. With a memory like an elephant, the quick-witted Gentle Lady from Texas would have provided one heck of an experience.

History will be kinder to the retired congresswoman because she had many receipts —evidence of a legacy of work, lifting others as a little girl from Waco who climbed and traveled the world, forged relationships and made a difference all the while breaking down barriers and building bridges.