The Legacy of Joyce Chapman
In mission-driven work, you meet a lot of incredible people. I constantly reflect on how lucky I am to work with the people I do–and I’ve felt that way for over 25 years! Not only are many of my close friends people I met through various professional experiences, but so many of the lessons I’ve learned–personally and professionally–have come from those I’ve interacted with through the context of this work.
Over the last few weeks, one of those people has been on my mind a lot. Joyce Chapman passed away unexpectedly in late September, and if you were anywhere doing anything around organizing in Chicago in the last few decades, you knew Joyce. After her death, tributes poured in from everyone — from the Chicago Public Schools CEO to the mayor of Chicago to social media tributes from youth workers, teachers, park district employees -–a remarkable range of people from all walks of life, all corners of the city.
A low quality photo from a high quality night — one of the most recent I took of Joyce at one of the many events we attended in Chicago.
I met Joyce when I was trying to start a school in the neighborhood adjacent to hers; many community leaders had told me she was the person to meet. I could see the surprise and skepticism on her face when I walked into our meeting room at the local parks office, a very full 8 months pregnant, wearing a suit and smiling broadly.
“So tell me, what’s a white girl like you thinking about doing starting a school in Roseland?”
She looked me up and down, sat back in her chair with her arms crossed, and waited. It was off to the races–she grilled me for hours (as she should have!) learning about my passion for education, sharing her perspective on the challenges and putting me through the wringer. A conversation started with Joyce that night that continued over the next 12 years.
Joyce not only served on a number of committees with the local police district and parks office, she also started several groups like Women Empowered, and numerous community groups and development councils. She served as chair of the Far South Community Action Council, which was a group I was dying to get in to speak to, since they had a direct line to our authorizer and a lot of input — hugely important to open a new school. My main ask for her was to be able to speak at the Community Action Council meeting. She had an astute sense of politics and timing, and in true Chicago fashion, was attuned to, “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.” Before I knew it, I agreed to bring snacks and water to the Women Empowered meeting, although she wisely counseled me to hold off on the CAC: “Slow down, white girl, you need to earn that one. Let me see how you do with Women Empowered.”
I must have done okay in that church hall with Women Empowered, because she then got me chairing the Data Committee of the Community Action Council. (“You’re into all that data: let’s see you share that with the community!”)
For many years, on the third Tuesday of the month you could find me in the conference room at Metropolitan Family Services at the CAC meeting. I brought my daughter at age 3 months (smugly thinking, “This working mom with a big job thing isn’t so hard”--little did I know how much harder it got as the children got older and weren’t as portable). Every year, we celebrated the holidays at the December meeting and Joyce always hustled up what she needed, cooking a big tray of her delicious spaghetti. Anytime Joyce met someone from a publishing company, or a local business, she’d literally say, “well, what can you do for my community–we need some t-shirts for the 600 teens attending the Peace Rally. Can you pay for those?” She kept score too–I got some bonus points one year, as Joyce mentioned for several months after a gathering “and you didn’t even bring generic pop–you brought the name-brand good stuff!”
I heard her described as the Godmother of Roseland–and let’s be clear, in the Marlon Brando way, not the Cinderella way. She was tough, had a long memory and did not mince words. You always knew where you stood with Joyce. What made her so amazing though, was her heart. At the core of what she did, she was always about the kids and the children in an authentic way that is so rare. Every position that I saw her work was unpaid–including when she was appointed to the Chicago Board of Education. She spoke to the board many times over the years, delivering impassioned pleas. Joyce epitomized an authentic leader: she spoke from her heart no matter what anyone might have thought and had, no matter where she was.
When I look back to the 10+ years I spent starting, founding and leading my school, the day Joyce came to visit was a true highlight. It took me about four years to get her there: she was skeptical, deferred time and again. Charters are a fraught area of discussion in Chicago and many leaders steer a little clear of association, even if privately they are very supportive. In any case, she was finally able to come with another community leader I admired, Dr. Yvonne Wilson.
When they arrived that day, Joyce said, “I want to know what you’re really about–some of these charters only take the kids who are already okay. Their parents on it, they have a little something-something… but at Collegiate, do you take the kids who need it?” Just then one of our 7th graders came down to the office with a pass. He and Joyce recognized each other from the neighborhood and said hello. After he went upstairs, Joyce looked at me approvingly: “Well, okay there Napleton–you are the real deal. I know that that kid, and he needs your school. You take all the kids, you’re not out there skimming.” It was the ultimate compliment, both for who it came from and what it was about.
The world lost a true warrior in Joyce. She worked tirelessly and constantly. I learned so much from her in so many ways and I am so grateful that our paths crossed. The reverberations of Joyce’s work will be felt in the city of Chicago for years to come; we were all so lucky to know her.