 Every woman's got a story about hair. I have the hair wars. My hair in its natural state is kinky. It is not curly. And you know now, straight hair, right? Wavy hair, curly hair, and kinky hair. All of those things, all in one strand. Now my mom, the beautician, the hairdresser, she just believed from her heart that a black woman should have hair that was very straight. And that you really should not go around with your hair kinky. If you did, you were badly brought up, or you were lazy, and I believed her. And I never thought, I never dreamt of having my hair kinky until I went to college. Now our first black student body president, as I said, he went on to create Kwanzaa, an international black festival. And he was really cute. So my hair went from straight and blonde to natural. What was later called an afro. And my mom went ballistic. I was banned from her hair salon. And so I promised to cover it with a wig to stop embarrassing her. Well, I escaped from Los Angeles and went to New York. I thought that was far enough away. The phone rang one day. Andrea. Okay, yes, mom. Martin Luther King called Gwen last week. Yes, mom. And she told me that he saw you in New York. Yes, mom. And Dr. King said, you're wearing your hair kinky again. Well, the wig went back on. And it stayed on when I went to work for producer Jean Coon on the original Star Trek. On the lot was a guy that I respected and admired so much. He was the tall black guy on Hogan's Heroes. And soon as he knew, he started on me, take off your wig, take off your wig. Come on, take off your wig. And finally it was, well, forget it. You're nothing but Coon's Coon. But on Star Trek, we were going where no one had gone before, we had the first interracial kiss. We had a rock that had maternal feelings. We were basically one day, it was so hot that I took off the wig, stuck my head under a cold tap and combed it out. Suddenly I was free, I was me, and I was cheeky. Coon's Coon, can I help you? I moved to Australia in 1974. This time I thought I got far enough away. She followed. And I decided I was going to have dreadlocks. When I saw my mom and she saw my bald head, she thought I was gay and advertising it to the world and she was freaked out. My hair started little kinks, little naps growing up all over my head. And I started teaching conflict resolution. My little naps turned into little locks and I stopped being critical of my mother's every word. The locks reached my ear and I realized that she did love me and she was doing the best she could. By the time they got to my shoulders, my mom had a natural. And we agreed that straight, kinky, curly, no matter what it was just nice to have hair on your head. Everyone has a story. When an elder dies, a librarian is lost. So please tell your stories. I may have forgotten something. I'm 73, please excuse me. Thank you very much.