There’s a story about broadcasting I like, about the right way to do the job. Back in 1967, 24 countries jointly broadcast a television show called Our World in which each nation was given a few minutes of airtime. The Beatles were chosen to speak on behalf of the UK. And when they were given the mic, they used it to debut a song they wrote explicitly for Our World called “All You Need Is Love.” The message was pretty straightforward: should you ever find yourself performing for 700 million people, you should use that platform to further humanity.
I know that story because Ananda Lewis, who died this week at the age of 52, told it to me backstage at TRL in 2001. We were doing a live special about the sudden death of her friend Aaliyah in a plane crash in the Caribbean, and Ananda, strong-willed and self-assured, was defending my participation in the broadcast. I was a stone-cold bummer from the network’s news division, sent to preach solemn facts about the crash. The network wasn’t sure how TRL could credibly crossfade between a hyperchromatic video celebration of Aaliyah’s life and me, an inspiration to change the channel.
But Ananda didn’t see those two things as separate. Despite the fact that she had one foot out the door at the time—she was weeks away from launching a syndicated, daytime talk show like one of her heroes, Oprah Winfrey—she understood the need to take young people seriously. Growing up meant containing multitudes, and Ananda was not afraid to talk about that.
She was the broadcasting equivalent of a great utility player in sports. She did it all, impeccably: the ‘It Girl’ at home on a catwalk, behind a velvet rope, or just hanging out on a neighborhood corner. The world’s most famous actors, musicians and athletes pursued her and her friendship. But when she was handed the microphone, she used it, time and again, to conduct some of the most taboo-busting and subversive conversations on TV.
It was Ananda who initiated the first credible conversations with Millennial America about racial profiling, sex and self-esteem, mental health and guns in schools. It was Ananda who guided a generation through Columbine, live, and dared to speak up as an advocate for young women long before broad cultural dialogue on the subject.
In many ways, Ananda’s broadcast career was rooted in her volunteer work for Head Start and as a mentor for Youth At Risk and the Youth Leadership Institute while she was still an undergrad at Howard. Like a lot of folks of my generation, I first got to know Ananda as the host of BET’s Teen Summit from 1993 to 1996. With its stark opening graphics proclaiming that “Knowledge Is Power,” Teen Summit was a throwback to an idealism about the power of broadcasting. The thoughtfulness, heart and soul that went into that show punched way above its weight-class. If there’s an equivalent space as successful at holding the attention, or advancing the conversation, among young people today—particularly young people of color—I have yet to see it in America. And America is a colder place for its absence.
When MTV came calling in 1997, Ananda was apparently deeply uncertain about the decision to leave Teen Summit. She didn’t want to abandon the audience she had cultivated. But according to her, the opportunity to broach Teen Summit-like conversations with a larger audience ultimately swayed her. And by the time our paths crossed, she was boarding the nose-cone of a rocket bound for the television stratosphere.
The Ananda Lewis Show debuted on September 10th, 2001. Were it not for another globe-uniting telecast the very next day, I have little doubt she would have achieved that dream. But fortune is fickle, and TV is merciless in its pursuit of the new. In the end, the audience shifted overnight, leaving Ananda behind. And while she continued to host—she was a correspondent on the Entertainment Tonight spinoff The Insider for more than a decade—her ambitions for broadcasting never fully reconnected with the taste of the times.
When she was first diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, I found that Ananda’s frankness on social media showed the same honesty and integrity that inspired me as a teenager. 52 seemed ancient to us when we were all part of that neon circus in Times Square. But somehow, today, it feels far too young to lose someone.
About a week after September 11th, we turned the lights back on at the TRL Studio and began trying to strike up a dialogue with the audience about what was happening. It was Ananda’s groundbreaking work that served as a guide. As luck would have it, Paul McCartney would join that first telecast. I talked to him backstage, not far from where Ananda had told me about Our World just weeks prior. He was genuinely surprised I’d heard of it. “Who told you that story?” he asked. “A friend,” I said. May she rest in peace.
More Great Stories From Vanity Fair
-
How Private-Equity Billionaires Killed the American Dream
-
Donald Trump “Wants to Demonstrate Absolute Power”
-
Alex Cooper Breaks Her Silence
-
The Chaos Inside Johnny Depp and Amber Heard’s Wedding
-
Molly Gordon’s So Much More Than The Bear’s Dream Girl
-
The Dizzying Rise of MAHA Warrior Calley Means
-
From RFK Jr. to Patrick Schwarzenegger, a Brief Guide to the Kennedy Family
-
The 42 Best Romantic Comedies of All Time
-
From the Archive: OceanGate’s Last Descent
The post MTV’s Ananda Lewis Was a Throwback and a Trailblazer, All in One appeared first on Vanity Fair.
