By: Bill Kopsky
If you have any doubt that Celestine fought this illness with all her might, know that now one of her greatest fears has been realized — I opened her QuickBooks accounting software and started messing up her balance sheets!
It was such an honor to be asked by her family to help celebrate her life. We know how much she loved them, and we loved her.
I met Celestine in 1996 when I started working for the Arkansas Public Policy Panel. Celestine is part of a long line of amazing women leaders committed to social justice in Arkansas working with the Panel.
Brownie Ledbetter interviewed me over the phone from Colorado and offered me the job sight unseen. This was a few years before Google, so I had no idea what Brownie looked like. My mental stereotype from her voice was that she was a short, African American woman. Don’t ask me why. So I walked into the office on my first day, and there was Celestine. I walked up to her and said, “you must be Brownie.” Which she found hysterical, and said “Oh Lord child, no!” Then I met the 6’1” Brownie Ledbetter — a white lady and about opposite of Celestine in temperament, but totally aligned on values.
I worked with Celestine for 26 years and she worked for the Panel for 35 years.
And I see some of you looking at me a little sideways, like “The woman was 80 years old, when were you going to let her retire?”
Well, first of all, she was 80 going on 60 — mentally and physically. None of us were exactly sure how old she was, and if we ever worked up the nerve to ask, she gave us that smile that said we should not ask again.
Second of all, I’m not sure anyone ever “let” Celestine do anything, other than maybe her mom and dad. She was quiet, but such a strong person. From time to time I would ask her if she wanted to retire someday, and the answer was always the same "Maybe someday, but I don’t know what I would do with myself." Well Celestine, you could travel? "I already travel," she said. And she did love her trips with her daughter Raquell.
Celestine was doing just what she wanted to be doing. And she was pretty irritated at just how inconvenient this cancer was. Even a couple of weeks ago, she would not give me the codes to get into her QuickBooks account because she was afraid I would mess them up.
Celestine was both so private, yet also an open book because she was so consistent. I’m not sure what I can tell you that you don’t already know. She was kind, graceful and gracious. Whip smart, well read, confident. She was very strong in her own beliefs, but extremely tolerant of others'.
She was dedicated and professional. She was sneaky funny, as our former colleague Nick said, and she loved to laugh. She was my snack buddy at the office, willing to try anything, but with a special weakness for a good reuben sandwich.
There are two main things I want you to remember about her beyond all the obvious: The kind of leader she was, and the legacy she leaves at the Panel and everywhere around her.
At the Panel we have a saying that everyone can be a leader — and we define leadership very specifically as 1) taking action on behalf of a group; 2) being transparent and accountable to the group; and 3) developing other leaders.
And lots of people say “I could never be a leader” because they don’t fit the stereotypes we have of leaders as loud, brilliant, and charismatic. But that is so limited, and we underestimate so many people when we do that.
Celestine was one of those quiet leaders, but she was often underestimated by folks who were too busy to pay attention.
When the board asked me to become Executive Director at the Panel, I was only 28 and didn’t really know what I was doing and I think they only asked me because nobody else would even apply for the job. We were on the verge of bankruptcy and a few of our board members thought we could save money by contracting out our accounting and administrative work. And they were probably right, but they didn’t realize all of the other ways Celestine quietly kept us on track. When I finally accepted the position, one of my few conditions was that Celestine stay on as our Finance Director.
Over the years I saw her underestimated by a lot of folks who were not paying close enough attention. But for most of us, we knew she was an essential part of our movement. Keeping our finances together. Setting the foundation for our organizational culture, putting events together, and cleaning up afterwards. Being the example we could all follow.
Celestine quietly observed things and was an incredibly wise counsel. When she saw someone who was bringing too much drama or mess into the work, she would quietly say “now, I don’t know about” that or so-and-so. That phrase from Celestine, who never had anything bad to say about anyone, was a full stop — you better re-think this. It was the equivalent of the rest of us shouting and swearing. She saved us from countless bad strategies, bad hires and just bad decisions in general with her simple, “Child, I just don’t know about that.”
She was nearly always right when she spoke up, and she worked so hard that everyone respected what she said. She found ways to say things that were kind, professional, free of drama and kept the work at the center of the discussion. That is leadership.
The other main thing I want to remember about Celestine is the cultural legacy she leaves us at the Panel — and that I suspect she leaves at church and in her community too. Her gifts are a foundation that we all can continue to build on.
She approached every person and every issue out of love and compassion first. We get so passionate sometimes about our views, our work, and ourselves that we forget about the other human beings involved.
Celestine helped us navigate so many tricky issues as a multi-racial social justice organization because she always, always, started with respect, love, tolerance and curiosity. She had what my kids’ teachers call “a growth mindset.” Always.
That takes incredible discipline and confidence. You can’t be open to loving like that if you’re not first confident in who you are. Celestine knew exactly who she was, and she believed in your right and ability to be your best self, too. She never reacted out of feeling threatened or insecure.
There are some who do social justice work, especially community organizing, who say this work can only be done when you plug into your inner anger about injustice. At the Panel we have always believed in another way, a way that Celestine epitomizes. Anger can have its place, but so can love, faith, compassion, community and a bunch of other things that move us to take stands against injustice.
Celestine was certainly frustrated and exasperated by things in the world, but I would rarely have called her angry. Her minister said she nearly embodied the New Testament definition of love and he was right. It was a deep well in her that motivated and guided not just her, but it guided all of us who worked with her too.
The Panel changed and grew tremendously during Celestine’s time. Even now we are doing some incredible new work that she was really excited about. She was the deep rudder that kept everyone else calm, cut through the drama — and lord knows some of us know how to hype the drama — and focused on the mission, the work and the people.
She was our work mom who helped the Panel be a family, and I suspect she was a church mom and a neighborhood mom, too. She really cared about us, could lift us up, and put us in our place lovingly when she needed to. When people brought their mess into the work, she would quietly put it right back with one of her “Child, I just don’t know about that[s].”
Her legacy is her integrity, work ethic, curiosity, humor, embrace of diversity, dedication to our mission and love for ALL of us. Especially her infectious love. That is something we can all build on.
When we had a financial shortfall in 2003, Celestine, along with Beth and I, volunteered to work for six months without salary so we could pay the rest of staff and straighten things out. It was such a gift and an example of leadership.
The poet Ted Berrigan wrote:
“The heart stops briefly when someone dies, a quick pain as you hear the news and someone passes from your outside life to inside. Slowly the heart adjusts to its new weight…”
I’ve only had two other people I’m this close to pass away — my father and my mentor Brownie. I’ve been pleasantly surprised at what an active part of my internal life they’ve remained. I still hear them in my head. I’m still learning from them. And I’m still building on foundations that they created.
I know that’s true of Celestine as well. If any of us ever feel lost or confused, call up Celestine in your memory and ask what she would do. She will still light your way.