Al-Anon’s helping hand reaches across racial boundaries

When my husband and I were scheduled as the Friday night speakers at the 2002 Missouri Area Al-Anon Convention at Osage Beach, I was not aware until after the fact that we were making history by being the first African-American couple to speak at a Missouri Al-Anon convention.

I couldn’t help but be aware that the room was full and probably 99 percent white—the usual make-up of the audiences I had experienced. I remember the first time I heard an Al-Anon speaker at a convention and how affirming it was: I heard my story in hers, even though she was a more-than-60-year-old white woman from the south. Her sharing of accepting powerlessness and embracing serenity was such an inspiration to me, an African-American woman from St. Louis in her thirties. I was filled with hope and knew for sure that Al-Anon was the place for me.

On the night of the convention, I was comfortable and felt as much a part of this group as anyone else in the room. I was excited and thankful to have the privilege of sharing the experience, strength, and hope I had found in Al-Anon.

Would someone hear their story in mine? Would I reassure someone that they are not alone in feeling the despair of living with and loving an alcoholic? Would my story of how it was, what happened, and how it is now bring hope to a newcomer? Those are the things I focused on.

No matter what race, nationality, or religion, Al-Anon can help us solve our common problems from the effects of alcoholism. This truth transcends any differences that may exist between such diverse groups of people. It allows us to learn from—and bond with—people who we might never meet in our daily lives. Indeed, being a part of Al-Anon broadens our perspectives, enlarges our lives, and connects us universally.

Regardless of our varied persuasions and personalities, as members of Al-Anon we become like family sharing a journey of recovery—a team with a common goal of finding contentment and happiness whether the alcoholic is drinking or not. Our lives are not hopeless. We can change. We do have choices. We can have serenity. These are the things I endeavor to communicate when I share my story.

I pray to be guided by my Higher Power to inspire, encourage, and be a ray of hope to someone suffering from the effects of living with an alcoholic—no matter what our other differences may be. My goal is to give away what I’ve gotten from working this program, so that I can continue to keep it.

Since this was an Al-Anon convention, my husband gave his A.A. talk first, and then I shared my story. I was particularly excited this evening because, though we had spoken as a husband and wife team at A.A. conventions, this was the first time we had spoken together at an Al-Anon event.

We had joked about how he was on my turf this time. I would get him straight once and for all—and I had a whole room full of Al-Anon members to support me! As I spoke from the podium, I was humbled and encouraged by the undivided attention, affirming nods, and knowing laughs coming from the audience. I felt connected to something bigger than myself. I felt a sense of comfort and belonging unmatched in any other area of my life. Surely the understanding, love, and peace of the program continue to grow—one day at a time!

Being an African-American doesn’t make my story any more or any less valid. My story is ‘our story.’ However, history was made that Friday in May 2002. Certainly it is important that the hand of Al-Anon be available to help people of all races who are affected by the disease of alcoholism. I hope we will all continue to make history as we carry the message of Al-Anon and practice these principles in all our affairs.

Reprinted with permission of The Forum, Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc. (external Al-Anon link), Virginia Beach, VA.
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