Although our original series ran only three seasons, we became bonded as the fans of our show organized, convened and ultimately pressed for movies and spin-offs of the groundbreaking show. Nichelle and I spent the following decades together as not only colleagues from the bridge of the Enterprise, but as lifelong friends.
Much has been said about what a trailblazer and role model Nichelle was for so many young Black women, who saw in her hope and promise for their own future. I wanted to take a moment to share some stories about Nichelle that aren’t as well known, and which highlight her lively spirit, her incredible kindness, and her warm generosity.
Courtesy of the Takei Family
Our friendship began six decades ago, before Star Trek, when she came backstage after a performance of a civil rights musical I was doing called “Fly Blackbird” in Los Angeles. I will never forget that first meeting. She was stunningly beautiful. But beyond her beauty, she stood out. It was a time when many African American women “conked” their hair, which meant straightening it, as was the current fashion. Instead, Nichelle wore an enormous natural “Afro” sphere on her head. It was natural, it was proud, and it was glorious. I knew right then that she was a singular individual.
Back in the 1970s, after our series ended on television, I became active in local politics and even ran for city council in Los Ángeles. That required a lot of fundraising dinners and political campaigning, and I knew that I could always ask Nichelle to be our featured performer. She always donated her talent and made every event feel special and glamorous. Indeed, Nichelle made a point of being at every important milestone of mine that she could, including the opening of Allegiance just a few years ago on Broadway and later in Los Ángeles. As a trained stage actress, Nichelle knew how special such occasions were to us.
Courtesy of the Takei Family
When my husband Brad and I got married, we asked Walter Koenig, who played ensign Chekov on the show, to be our best man at the wedding. We asked Nichelle to be our matron of honor. In her characteristic fashion, Nichelle declared, “I am not a matron! If Walter can be best man, why can’t I be best lady?” Noting that Walter’s “best man” title implied the awkward title of “best woman,” she was determined to be known as the “best lady” to the guests. I told her, “Of course you are.”
When my father passed away, Nichelle came to the funeral and she saw many Japanese Americans with envelopes. They were handing them over to a receptionist in the lobby. She was always a curious soul, so she asked me, “George, what are they bringing to the funeral?” I said it was friends and relatives making financial contributions to support the funeral costs. Nichelle had never heard of the Japanese tradition called koden. A few days later, an envelope arrived in the mail from her. Inside was a check for $500, a very generous koden.
Bettmann / Contributor via Getty Images
So while fans will miss and honor the famous actress who opened so many paths with her presence on the screen, I will also miss the dear friend who always let you know she was there to support you, to love you, and to go through this strange and wonderful life alongside you.
Nichelle Nichols, you were one in a million in so many, many ways.
On our second episode of George Takei's " Oh Myyy Pod!" podcast, host George Takei and co-host Todd Beeton further explore the roots of the "BBQ Becky" phenomenon.
Why do white people call the police on people of color for doing ordinary everyday things in public spaces?
We speak with Robin DiAngelo, whose best-selling book White Fragility explores why white people often react defensively and even confrontationally when challenged on their assumptions about race and when faced with racial discomfort.
As DiAngelo explains, she, as a white progressive, is no less racist than Donald Trump. And if you're a white progressive yourself, that likely goes for you as well.
Find out why below.
You can listen to Episode 1 here:
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subscribe to George Takei's "Oh Myyy Pod!" podcast so it shows up in your feed and please rate us up so others are able to find us as well.
Guest:
- Robin DiAngelo is the author of White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism, which was released in June 2018 to universal acclaim and has maintained its spot on the New York Times best-seller list for more than a year. DiAngelo has worked in the field of racial justice as an associate professor, sociologist, and educator for more than two decades. She coined the term "White Fragility" in 2011 and released her best-selling book of the same name in 2018. She will release a follow up book in 2020 or 2021 exploring the need for white people to break with white solidarity in order to better support efforts toward racial equality.
Related Reading
- Get your copy of White Fragility at Amazon.
- Read Robin DiAngelo's 2011 paper, White Fragility
"White people in North America live in a social environment that protects and insulates them from race-based stress. This insulated environment of racial protection builds white expectations for racial comfort while at the same time lowering the ability to tolerate racial stress, leading to what I refer to as White Fragility. White Fragility is a state in which even a minimum amount of racial stress becomes intolerable, triggering a range of defensive moves. These moves include the outward display of emotions such as anger, fear, and guilt, and behaviors such as argumentation, silence, and leaving the stress-inducing situation. These behaviors, in turn, function to reinstate white racial equilibrium."
- Read Robin DiAngelo's OpEd in The Guardian: White People Assume Niceness Is The Answer To Racial Inequality. It's Not.
"The default of the current system is the reproduction of racial inequality. To continue reproducing racial inequality, the system only needs for white people to be really nice and carry on – to smile at people of color, to go to lunch with them on occasion. To be clear, being nice is generally a better policy than being mean. But niceness does not bring racism to the table and will not keep it on the table when so many of us who are white want it off. Niceness does not break with white solidarity and white silence. In fact, naming racism is often seen as not nice, triggering white fragility."
