Dr. Nancy Louise Grant

For the 6.2 billion people who regularly follow my blog, my absence of post-election comment might surprise you. I could say nothing more, or in many cases, better, than the tens of thousands who did blog about President-elect Obama’s decisive and historic victory. For that reason, I held my tongue.

And then, tonight, I remembered Doctor Nancy Grant. She was an inspiration to me. In my “career” at Washington University in St. Louis, I enrolled in three of her African-American history courses. I found her interpretations brilliant, her insights challenging and her rare admonishments biting.

I think she is happier now.

In the aftermath of the election, I Googled her this evening and read the lovely obituary (pp. 13-23) by Genna Rae McNeil that speaks to her life’s work in a way I never could.

I knew these things about Nancy Grant. She challenged us. She inspired her students to think beyond their limits, to act beyond their comfort zone, to make our world a better place.

And she chastised us from her podium during Gulf I as new leaves began to unfold outside when she didn’t see us protesting in the Quad the reasons we went to war in the numbers and with the conviction that she saw as a participant in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s at UC Davis and Duke University.

I think she is happier now.

She showed up to class every day, mildly disheveled, but always on point, always prepared. Dr. Grant taught me more about the African-American experience from slavery to ante-bellum, from ante-bellum to civil rights, than I needed to know, and somehow less than I wanted.

I am a white male. My high school on the South Side of Chicago was 82% African-American during my tour. I strolled into a fantastic university knowing “how things are.” Dr. Grant gave me perspective on how things were.

I stopped by Dr. Grant’s office on the second floor of Busch Hall one day after I had graduated. It was 1995. She remembered me after five years. We had a nice chat. I noticed, and commented on the fact that she had had her hair done. She smiled, but did not let on. She looked particularly, and uncharacteristically, composed.

She had just finished a draft of a new article for some history journal. She handed to me a print out of her article and asked if I wouldn’t review it for her. I was both surprised and honored, and promised to return it to her the next afternoon. I left feeling privileged to have had an audience with her.

Dr. Grant was that kind of woman.

She inspired. Not just me, but thousands of others, I’m certain. She always questioned us, always challenged us to do more, to do better, to stand up and to advance our society.

The next day, I returned, my edits in hand, but she had left for an appointment. I slid my modest notes into her departmental mailbox in the main office of Busch Hall and did not hear from her again.

It was 1995, and Nancy had been battling cancer. That she didn’t tell me, I’m not surprised. She was my favorite professor; but I was just one of thousands of her students. I found out by reading the paper a couple of months later that she lost her battle.

For all the external forces she fought against for so many African-Americans to advance themselves and to enlighten people like me to help her cause, Nancy couldn’t beat what was happening inside of her.

Dr. Grant passed before her time, before this time.

While I wish she were with us now, in this moment that redefines our national history, I believe she is aware of what has taken place and shares in some level of hard-fought pride over the page that has been turned.

My parents instilled in me the importance of being respectful toward others. Dr. Grant reinforced the importance of treating others, all others, as equals. While the message wasn't uniquely hers, it seems that on November 4, a good number of us paid heed.

I think she is happier now - wherever she is - knowing that our United States will soon be a better place as a result.