EX-ADDICTS PUT SHAME ASIDE TO TELL THEIR STORIES

'Shame on you," I say when I want to put my grandson in check. He
hangs his head, lowers his eyes, and tears well up. It is only when I
tell him that I still love him and forgive him that his dimpled smile
returns.

In most instances, I know the hangdog look is an act. Still, he's got
my number. Shame is burdensome. All my parents had to do was make me
feel humiliated, and I straightened up.

"Whatever happened to good ol' fashioned shame," a friend asked me
recently as she considered the unrepentant way writer J.L. King is
bragging about his sordid sex life. In most circumstances, remorse is
a good emotion. It is our moral compass, so even if we haven't been to
church since we moved out of our parents' house, shame lets us know we
are perilously close to the hellfire the preacher warned us about.

Just when I thought we -- by we, I mean black people -- had no shame,
a group of young women at Spelman College spoke up. Rapper Nelly's
"Tip Drill," a raunchy video that shows men swiping a credit card
across a woman's behind, and men throwing money between women's legs
and simulating sex with each other, apparently was the last straw.

Threatened with protests, the rapper was forced to cancel his
appearance at the Atlanta campus, according to the Associated Press.

"Black entertainers have become the new myth makers, showing gangsters
and bikini-clad women with hyperactive libidos," said Zenobia Hikes,
vice president for student affairs at Spelman. "For nonblack children,
it creates a gross misrepresentation of the black experience," Hikes
told an AP reporter.

Shameful. Yes. But Hikes has to tell it because young black people of
all classes need to hear it.

Frankly, it will take women in the 20-something age group to convince
other young women that they don't have to portray the "super-whore" in
order to succeed in the entertainment industry.

Shame has a role to play in the fight to preserve the culture -- the
real African-American culture -- not the distorted pop culture that
would make you believe that most black youth are only interested in
chuggin' and thuggin'.

These Spelman sisters are showing a spunk that affirms W.E.B. DuBois'
controversial teaching of the talented tenth.

A Different Sort of Shame

But there's another group of women whose voices are equally important.
Most of these women probably never dreamed they could make a
difference, but they could make the biggest difference. They are
former substance abusers who have recovered from their addictions and
have moved on to become good mothers, daughters, sisters and aunts.

Because of the shame factor, we don't usually hear from these women.
They avoid speaking out because they know how a lot of us think. Some
of us need someone to look down on, and often that person is someone
with a habit we despise. Nonsmokers think smokers are pathetic. People
who abstain from alcohol don't have much patience with alcoholics.
Thin people think fat people are too lazy to lose weight. But drug
addicts catch it the worst. Most of us just don't understand what
drives people to engage in behaviors that are harmful to body and soul.

So when drug addicts recover, they are eager to bury their shame and
move on with their lives. That's been unfortunate. Recovering addicts
are the best people to demonstrate why the money taxpayers and donors
invest in substance abuse treatment is not wasted.

We need to meet women who have recovered.

That's why I'm proud to take part in The Women's Treatment Center's
annual "Meet the Stars" benefit. The fund-raiser will recognize 11
women who are in recovery from substance abuse.

"They are working. They are going to school. They are raising their
children," said Jewell K. Oates, executive director of the center.
"They are managing their lives, which they weren't able to do before.
The difference is hope. We not only give them hope, we show them a way
that they can be successful in everyday life just like everyone else."

Breaking the Cycle

The first time I saw the "stars" stand before a room full of prominent
people and share their stories, it brought tears to my eyes. When a
person is out in the street chasing an addiction, there is no shame.
But when that person is cleaned up and dressed up like everyone else,
admitting they were an addict can be so hard, most people can't do
it.

Oates knows these stories are vital to the mission.

"When people go into their pockets, it is always easy to give to
children or to literacy," Oates said. "People are reluctant to give to
the mothers or fathers of these children. But in order to heal the
whole family, we have to work with the whole family. It's important
that we see these women because these women were once those little
children. If you don't work with the family, you are never going to
break the cycle."

The stars will be out Thursday, May 13, from 6 to 10 p.m. at the
Embassy Suites-Chicago Lakefront. Tickets are $100.

Contact The Women's Treatment Center at (312) 850-0050.