1995
Sadako Ogata
Transforming the lives of refugees
Sadako Ogata was settling in as the head
of UNHCR in 1991 when more than a
million Iraqi Kurds fled the fallout of the
Gulf War. She jumped onto a helicopter
to the Iraq-Turkey border to hear first-
hand accounts and promised rapid aid.
Nicknamed “the di-
minutive giant,” Ogata—
who stood under 5 ft.
tall—gained a reputation
as a formidable negotia-
tor. The only Japanese
citizen and first woman to lead the
UNHCR, she was re-elected three times
and boldly expanded the agency’s man-
date to include internally displaced per-
sons. Throughout the 1990s, which she
called the “turbulent decade” of her ten-
ure, she navigated crises in places from
Afghanistan to the Balkans to Rwanda,
helping to protect some of the world’s
most vulnerable. —Laignee Barron1994
Joycelyn Elders
Challenging public-health taboos
Raised in a poor Arkansas farming fam-
ily, Joycelyn Elders didn’t visit a doctor
until she was 16 years old. But she went
to medical school and, in 1993, became
the first African American and the sec-
ond woman to be named U.S. Surgeon
General. Elders kept pushing bound-
aries while in office,
advocating for robust sex
education and studies
on drug legalization —
and drawing critics. Not
even then President Bill
Clinton was ready for her progressive
views on sexuality—he asked her to re-
sign in 1994, after she argued masturba-
tion should be discussed in school sex ed.
Today, many of her views are more main-
stream. Recently, the now 86-year-old
doctor has adopted a new cause: advo-
cating for more black physicians in the
medical field. —Jamie DucharmeMORRISON
ACCEPTS THE
NOBEL PRIZE IN
LITERATURE ON
DEC. 10, 19931990s1993
Toni Morrison
Great American storyteller
“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do
language. That may be the measure of our lives.” Toni
Morrison spoke these words when she won the Nobel
Prize in Literature in 1993, becoming the first black
woman so honored. Not many people can squeeze so
much meaning into just a few sentences, but Morrison,
an icon of storytelling, did it all the time.
In books like The Bluest Eye (1970), Sula (1973), Song
of Solomon (1977) and Beloved (1987), she used magical
realism and poetic language to interrogate and explore
the black experience and the aftershocks of genera-
tional trauma. In both fiction and nonfiction, Morrison
wasn’t afraid to hold a mirror up to our society—even if
we didn’t like the reflection staring back at us. She wrote
from varying perspectives, employing nonlinear struc-
tures and stream-of-consciousness monologues that re-
layed her tremendous capacity for empathy.
Morrison’s words force us to re-examine what we
think to be true about ourselves. When reading them, I
feel shaken one moment and completely seen the next.
Her work makes me think of my grandmother. It makes
me want to know more about my grandmother’s grand-
mother. Morrison has always made me proud to be a
black woman. She was a superhero who looked like the
women who guided and nurtured our families for genera-
tions. She was one of us.
I’m glad we weren’t afraid to worship at her feet
while she was still here. My only wish is that we could’ve
kneeled down at them for a little bit longer.
—Lena Waithe
Waithe is an Emmy-winning writer, producer and actor
80 MORRISON: ROGER TILLBERG—TT NEWS AGENCY; ELDERS: COURTESY HEALTH SERVICES RESEARCH LIBRARY, NATIONAL INSTITUTES OF HEALTH; OGATA: PIERRE VERDY—AFP/GETTY IMAGES