My Welfare Lady

Graduation Speech, Carnegie Mellon University, May 15, 1994

Although a traditional student was selected to speak, the commencement committee produced a brochure for our speeches and distributed them with the graduation programs. Here's mine. I was 32 years old.

My life has a made-for-TV-movie quality about it. I began my education as a single welfare mother, high-school dropout and convicted felon. When I was 18, I had been arrested for passing illegal prescriptions and spent nearly six months in a Kansas jail for it. I was lucky to be in a small county jail. They even ordered pizza for us.

I plead guilty to one count of forgery, was released, went to a drug rehab and then lived with nuns for three months in Erie, PA. Seeing that not even Burger King would hire me, my probation officer let me come back to Pittsburgh. Upon returning in the fall of '80, I became gainfully employed as a mud-wrestler, joining two drunken male volunteers per night to roll around with in the mud.

It's only natural that I started hanging out with outlaw motorcycle types at this time. And even though they didn't approve of shooting dope, I continued. In the summer of '82, I spent a week in the hospital so doctors could drain an abscess on my arm that resulted from missing a vein. I was released and immediately hitchhiked all over the country with two of my friends.

When I returned, I went into another drug rehab where I found out I was pregnant. But when I decided to keep my baby, I knew that my life was no longer my own. For the first time, I actually cared what happened to me. And here I am, a welfare mother graduating with honors from one of the most expensive universities in the world.

I truly love this country, even though the government benefits that enabled my transformation are already gone. It will be my life's work to bring them back, to make sure every man, woman and child has the same chances to be free, even if it means you're free to make big mistakes, that I had. Without these programs, I'd never have been able to keep my baby. And with all my heart I thank the taxpayers.

My son, Leo, is about to turn 11. I've been in school, full time, since he was three, beginning at Community College of Allegheny County. I would have never imagined that I'd be here. I've had the incredible experience of having my life exceed my dreams. But there are far too many stories that start like mine and far too few that end here.

Our power of choice is limited to the awareness we have of the world around us. Ignorance makes us vulnerable, powerless, which is the opposite of bliss. As the benefactors of our education, we have been given the power to understand the mechanisms necessary to reach our full potential. That power is a gift of great responsibility that demands we extend it to others.
We live in a time of incredible information that seems endless. Only by keeping our powers of reason guided by our hearts, will we synthesize the answers to the problems we face.

Many people still don't seem to understand how things like poverty, prejudice and the resulting abuse elicit undesirable behaviors. Obviously many people don't understand how bad it hurts to feel so worthless. And even with the success I've been afforded, my self-esteem is something I have to fight for daily.

These problems aren't excuses for bad behavior, these problems are the cause. Being constantly demeaned, for whatever reason, creates a desperation that drives self-destructiveness. It infects victims and everyone who tries to love them. Or tries to ignore them. Over time the hurt turns to hate. Which turns to violence or depression. Prevention is the only solution.

All anyone needs is a chance to try, to have the strength of heart that comes from being cared for. And that strength, that hope, is a gift that each of us can give to others. That's the simple magic of it. And please don't ever forget that we all deserve to be treated with the dignity that drives our best endeavors.

Thank you, America the beautiful.