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"Onvergetelijke" speech over gelijkheid van Oprah Winfrey leidt tot "Oprah for president 2020" op Twitter

Oprah Winfrey heeft tijdens de Golden Globes een inspirerende speech gegeven, waarin ze oproept tot tolerantie en gelijkheid. Na haar speech begon Hollywood te tweeten: "Oprah for president in 2020". De tv-presentatrice en actrice kreeg de Cecil B. DeMille Award, een prijs die jaarlijks uitgereikt wordt aan iemand die een bijzondere bijdrage geleverd heeft aan de entertainmentwereld.

Volgens VRT-filmjournalist Ward Verrijcken was het "een onvergetelijke speech, misschien wel de beste acceptance speech aller tijden. Zo persoonlijk, zo aangevuurd, zo feministisch. En zulk een warme oproep tot tolerantie en gelijkheid. Hashtag Me Too, hashtag time's up." 

Winfrey verwees naar de zwarte acteur Sidney Poitier die een voorbeeld voor haar was toen hij zijn Oscar en de Cecil B. DeMille Award won. En ze gaf aan dat ze beseft dat ook zij nu een voorbeeld is voor jonge meisjes nu zij als eerste zwarte vrouw deze prijs krijgt. 

"Ik waardeer de media meer dan ooit in deze gecompliceerde tijden", voegde Winfrey eraan toe.  "Wat ik zeker weet, is dat de waarheid spreken het sterkste wapen is dat we hebben. Ik ben trots en geïnspireerd door alle vrouwen die sterk genoeg geweest zijn om hun persoonlijke verhalen te delen."

"Veel te lang zijn vrouwen niet gehoord of geloofd wanneer ze hun waarheid afzetten tegenover de macht van mannen, maar hun tijd is voorbij. Hun tijd is voorbij, hun tijd is voorbij", klonk het nog.  Dit was het krachtige slot van haar speech: "Ik wil dat alle meisjes die dit bekijken weten dat er een nieuwe dag zit aan te komen. En wanneer die dag aanbreekt, zal dat zijn dankzij al de fantastische vrouwen en enkele redelijk fenomenale mannen in deze ruimte die er alles aan doen zodat zij de leiders zullen worden die ons naar een tijd brengen waar niemand ooit nog "me too" zal moeten zeggen." 

De integrale speech in het Engels

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you all.  OK.  OK.  Thank you, Reese.  In 1964, I was a little girl sitting on the linoleum floor of my mother's house in Milwaukee watching Anne Bancroft present the Oscar for Best Actor at the 36th Academy Awards.  She opened the envelope, and said five words that literally made history:  "The winner is Sidney Poitier." 

Up to the stage came the most elegant man I had ever seen.  I remember his tie was white and, of course, his skin was black.  And I'd never seen a black man being celebrated like that.  And I have tried many, many, many times to explain what a moment like that means to a little girl, a kid watching from the cheap seats as my mom came through the door, bone tired from cleaning other people's houses.  But all I can do is quote and say that the explanation in Sidney's performance in "Lilies of the Field," ''Amen, amen.  Amen, amen."

In 1982, Sidney received the Cecil B. DeMille Award right here at the Golden Globes, and it is not lost on me that at this moment, there are some little girls watching as I become the first black woman to be given this same award. It is an honor — it is an honor and it is a privilege to share the evening with all of them and also with the incredible men and women who inspire me, who challenge me, who sustain me, and made my journey to this stage possible.  Dennis Swanson, who took a chance on me for "AM Chicago."  Quincy Jones, who saw me on that show and said to Steven Spielberg, "Yes, she is Sofia in "The Color Purple"."  Gayle, who has been the definition of what a friend is.  And Stedman, who has been my rock.  Just a few to name.

I'd like to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press Association because we all know that the press is under siege these days, but we also know that it is the insatiable dedication to uncovering the absolute truth that keeps us from turning a blind eye to corruption and to injustice —to tyrants and victims and secrets and lies.  I want to say that I value the press more than ever before as we try to navigate these complicated times, which brings me to this:  What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we all have.  And I'm especially proud and inspired by all the women who have felt strong enough and empowered enough to speak up and share their personal stories.  Each of us in this room are celebrated because of the stories that we tell. 

And this year we became the story.  But it's not just a story affecting the entertainment industry.  It's one that transcends any culture, geography, race, religion, politics, or workplace.  So I want tonight to express gratitude to all the women who have endured years of abuse and assault because they, like my mother, had children to feed and bills to pay and dreams to pursue.They're the women whose names we'll never know.  They are domestic workers and farm workers.  They are working in factories, and they work in restaurants, and they're in academia and engineering and medicine and science.  They're part of the word of tech and politics and business.  They are athletes in the Olympics, and they are soldiers in the military. 

And there's someone else:  Recy Taylor, a name I know and I think you should know too.  In 1944, Recy Taylor was a young wife and a mother.  She was just walking home from the church service she'd attended in Abbeville, Alabama, when she was abducted by six armed white men, raped, and left blindfolded by the side of the road coming home from church.  They threatened to kill her if she ever told anyone, but her story was reported to the NAACP, where a young worker by the name of Rosa Parks became the lead investigator on her case.  And together they sought justice.  But justice wasn't an option in the era of Jim Crow.  The men who tried to destroy her were never persecuted.  Recy Taylor died 10 days ago, just shy of her 98th birthday.  She lived as we all have lived, too many years in a culture broken by brutally powerful men. 

For too long, women have not been heard or believed if they dared to speak their truth to the power of those men, but their time is up. Their time is up.  Their time is up.  And I just hope — I just hope that Recy Taylor died knowing that her truth, like the truth of so many other women who were tormented in those years and even now tormented, goes marching on.  It was somewhere in Rosa Parks' heart almost 11 years later when she made the decision to stay seated on that bus in Montgomery.  And it's here with every woman who chooses to say, "Me too" and every man, every man who chooses to listen.

In my career what I've always tried my best to do, whether on television or through film, is to say something about how men and women really behave, to say how we experience shame, how we love and how we rage, how we fail, how we retreat, persevere, and how we overcome.  I've interviewed and portrayed people who have withstood some of the ugliest things life can throw at you, but the one quality all of them seem to share is an ability to maintain hope for a brighter morning, even during our darkest nights.  So I want all the girls watching here now to know that a new day is on the horizon. And when that new day finally dawns, it will be because of a lot of magnificent women, many of whom are right here in this room tonight, and some pretty phenomenal men fighting hard to make sure that they become the leaders who take us to the time when nobody ever has to say, "Me too" again.  Thank you.

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