Isabel Wilkerson Instagram – An unbelievable 30 years ago today, the path of my life changed forever. That afternoon, I was seated at a computer at The New York Times with my editor, Carl Lavin, as the 1994 Pulitzer Prizes were being announced. I watched the winners and categories scroll down the screen in what felt like slow motion, and then I saw my name.
I called my mother, who insisted she knew I would win all along, and my father, who was too choked up to speak, and then walked into the out-of-body applause of the old newsroom on 43rd Street and to hugs all around, starting with the executive editor and publisher.
The previous year had been a huge one as Chicago Bureau Chief — immersion in the life of a 10-year-old boy on the South Side of Chicago and then bearing witness to people trying to survive a 500-year flood that engulfed the Midwest.
A finalist in two categories, I felt as much relief as indescribable joy the moment I won in Feature Writing for “high literary quality and originality.” It would stunningly make me the first Black woman to take home a Pulitzer in journalism and the first Black journalist to win for individual reporting. An honor to be in the company of the great William Raspberry, David Remnick, Annie Proulx, Edward Albee and others whose names were called that day.
I heard from Senators, the President, former editors and teachers. The most beautiful, heartfelt letters. My parent’s insurance agent saw the name in the paper, checked his files and called to congratulate them both. I treasured hearing from people I’d written about — the bouquet of roses from a Chicago principal whose high school I’d done a beloved piece on.
The narrative writing that won the Pulitzer would be the foundation of the books I would come to write. The seeds and early cadences of The Warmth of Other Suns and Caste can be seen in all of these stories.
After the news, The Times ran a full page ad about my win. For years, my father had run out to get every paper I had a story in and would make note in his engineer’s hand: “Isabel’s story on Page A17.” That day, he went home with a bunch of papers to add to his collection of fatherly pride. Forever grateful he lived to see that day. | Posted on 12/Apr/2024 22:36:20
