I called her Bama Girl and she called me Bama Boy, and sometimes laughingly Bama Boyd, but the world knew her as Dr. Hazel Dukes, who on March 1 joined that celestial and illustrious band of ancestors. We have already published an obituary on her progressive and productive days among us, and this is but a brief encomium to my Alabama born colleague — she in Montgomery and me in Birmingham. Whenever we happened to meet, and that was on numerous occasions, we would salute each in a brotherly and sisterly way.
Sometimes it was nothing more than a wave and a thrown kiss, as it was the last time we saw each other at a blood center, both there for an analysis. When she left, she waved to me, displaying a smile many of you know so well. I was with her at several national NAACP conventions where she was already recognized as a legend, none more memorable than when she received the Spingarn Medal.
I was not with her when Percy Ellis Sutton recounted a memorable moment he shared with Hazel. Both she and Percy often recounted the circumstances under which they met for the first time in Chicago for the national convention in 1963.
Related: February is Black Narrative Power Month (amsterdamnews.com)
“We were planning a march, but the Rev. J.H. Jackson, who was the president of the National Baptist Convention, didn’t believe in civil rights marches,” Hazel recalled. “He felt that marches were unpatriotic. Later that evening, Percy called a meeting of the New York caucus that was opposed to the NAACP old guard. Being a good Baptist, I raised my hand and I said, ‘Well, he’s a minister …’ and before I could say another word, Percy said, ‘Very well, young lady, but I want you to take your seat.’ I was stunned.” Later, whenever she thought about the incident, “Percy was absolutely right.”
Hazel’s beginning with one of the Gang of Four, whom she later came to deeply admire and respect, didn’t get off to an auspicious start, but it gradually grew to be a quartet of leadership that welcomed and honored her presence. I was hoping to see her last year at the Mid-Manhattan branch of the NAACP, accepting Kyndell Reid’s invitation, but Hazel did not attend. In my closing remarks, I told the members, “When you see her, tell her Bama Boy came by.”
Hazel’s renown resounded far and wide, particularly in the precincts of New York. Hers was a spectacular emergence for a woman who came a long way from being a Bama Girl.