Age: 69
Hometown: Maringouin
Occupation: Executive director of Dialogue on Race Louisiana
Maxine Crump’s goal is to end racism. Not improve race relations or Band-Aid prejudices—she wants racism eliminated.
“I want to have a conversation based on facts in a facilitated, structured and timed environment,” Crump says. “And when you do that, a lot of things open up.”
That starts with honest dialogue and is the basis for Dialogue on Race, which she leads locally. The five-year-old nonprofit offers workshops on the history of racism and ways to end it—honing in on how racism pervades institutions like government and business, often in unintended ways.
It’s easy to see Crump leading that discussion. She understands and teaches the intricate and often-confusing history of racism in a way that is engaging and eye-opening.
She often takes on the role of observer during those discussions, which might give the impression she is guarded during conversation.
“People tell me I’m a snob,” Crump says. But after a few minutes of talking to her, it’s easy to see she is anything but snobby—she just has a measured approach.
She is a teacher, a lover of the blues, a family woman with intelligence, wit and humility and most importantly, she is a natural orator.
She cultivated her speaking skills during her childhood, growing up in the 1950s in Maringouin, an Iberville Parish town. She is the second-oldest of seven children. Her mother was a homemaker, while her late father was a Jack of all trades—he was a farmer, a barber, a nightclub owner and a school bus driver. It was the perfect environment for great stories. Her parents and grandparents used cadence and pauses to move their tales forward.
“I grew up in the bayou, where everything moved slowly,” she says. “As a kid I loved to hear them tell stories.”
Crump’s voice mattered in her segregated community, where her neighbors all looked like she did. She felt accepted and safe there. She finished high school during the civil rights movement, and when she enrolled at LSU, her life changed.
Crump’s milestones were not only firsts for her, but firsts for Baton Rouge—a city that was shifting toward the idea of equality. In the late ’60s, Crump was the first black student to live in an LSU women’s dormitory, and after she graduated college, she worked as the first black reporter on WAFB in the mid ’70s. She says she was a symbol for change but also felt pressured to not make her race a big deal.
“The law let me in, and I just had to survive,” she says. “But I’m a baby boomer with courage, belief and passion, and we don’t give up.”
Today, Crump’s office is nestled inside a modern marketing firm off Jefferson Highway where she works near millennials, ages 21 to 34—a generation she is nearly giddy about because of their curiosity and innovation.
“I like them a lot, and they know it,” she says. “They are so amazing. They believe in change. They believe in dialogue.”
It’s easy to see Crump’s passion in the way her eyes light up when she discusses race, but she is also poised and not easily ruffled. While that may seem intimidating, she knows the power of listening first before making her point.
“My dad taught me that,” she says. “You don’t have to speak often, but when you do, make sure it’s something important.”
