Growing up as a mixed-race girl, Whoopi Goldberg taught me not to be afraid

There is huge irony in the fact that I am scared to meet her

Grace Holliday
Tuesday 16 October 2018 09:35 BST
Comments
When I ask myself if Whoopi would try and meet her idol, I of course know the answer. Brave and bold, she wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by, I’m sure
When I ask myself if Whoopi would try and meet her idol, I of course know the answer. Brave and bold, she wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by, I’m sure (Rex)

Tonight, Whoopi Goldberg will begin a fleeting stand-up tour in Leeds and London. I live in Leeds, and I’m going to the gig with my mum. Where I won’t be going, however, is to the stage door afterwards.

Let me explain. Back in March 1994, two events of varying significance occurred. On the not so exciting end of the spectrum, I turned four. On the other, the film Sister Act 2: Back In The Habit was released in the UK. Whoopi, of course, played the lead: she had an Oscars and two Golden Globes for her work in The Colour Purple and Ghost by this point.

My mum, who grew up in Leeds and identifies as black, rented the video for me, having seen how much I’d love the original Sister Act, released when I was two.

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“In the early 90s I was still doing my tap dancing, and we used to dance together. For some reason you loved to tap dance to ‘I Will Follow Him’,” my mum tells me now, referring to the version performed in the first movie.

I don’t remember watching it or the tap dancing. But, a little older, I do remember the sequel, and being utterly captivated by the character Whoopi crafted. A Las Vegas headliner, (decidedly not a showgirl – points if you get the reference) Deloris Van Cartier reunites with her nun friends from the first film to become a teacher at a failing San Francisco school. She becomes Sister Mary Clarence, forms a choir with her rowdy pupils, enters a statewide competition and *spoiler alert*, wins.

Her accolades didn’t matter to me, of course. What mattered was discovering the kind of woman I then so desperately wanted to become.

Yet tonight, in spite of the fact that her arrival into my life 26 years ago made me quite literally tap dance with glee, I can’t bring myself to pursue a meeting without knowing that she is happy to meet me.

I’ve had mixed experiences of meeting celebrities in the past. Rowan Atkinson was aloof and dismissive, while Dara O Briain was so engaged and polite that he actually asked me how my time at the festival was going.

When I ask myself if Whoopi would try and meet her idol, I of course know the answer. Brave and bold, she wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by, I’m sure.

After all, I watched intently as Deloris firmly shut down a male manager trying to talk over her and corrected another who pronounces her name wrong without hesitation. As she stalled a burgeoning career out of loyalty to friends in need and transformed into Sister Mary. Then, as she earned the respect of her disillusioned and as such badly behaved student Rita (played by a young Lauryn Hill) with a deft combination of sternness and generosity. And, of course, how she slid down bannisters and made ‘your momma’ jokes.

Deloris Van Cartier, Sister Mary Clarence and Whoopi Goldberg (for they are all one and the same in every way that matters) became my guides. An argument with a misogynistic boss, an unwelcome grab from a man on the street, a sassy comment from the teenagers I tutor, a friend sobbing down the phone: What would Whoopi do? The emulation isn’t always flawless, but it’s immediate.

There is huge irony in the fact that I am scared to meet the woman who taught me not to be afraid.

But here’s the thing; she also taught me to be empathetic. Away from home, late on a Saturday night, would I want to stand in the cold and meet a stranger, albeit a fan? Maybe; but what about if I’d been doing so for decades? What if I had a stinking cold, or had just been bickering with my partner, or had entered my nuns quarters to find the big, glamorous surprise waiting for me was simply curtains?

If I lost you on that last one, go rent Sister Act 2. In the current climate of Trump, Kavanaugh and #MeToo, we’ve never needed an outspoken woman of colour more.

Neither have I. So, thanks for everything, Whoopi. I’ll try and be braver next time.

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