When I was young,

I wanted to be on TV:

the lights, the cameras,

the makeup,

the glamorous life.

And from my vantage point,

just outside of a military base
in Lawton, Oklahoma,

I didn't make the distinction
between TV reporter or actor.

It was all the same to me.

It was either,

"Reporting live from Berlin"

or "I shall attend her here and woo her
with such spirit when she comes."

(Laughter)

It was all special,

it was all the spotlight,

and I just knew that it was for me.

But somewhere along my journey,

life happened.

Ah, much better.

(Applause)

I have a disease called vitiligo.

It started early in my career.

It's an autoimmune disorder.

It's where it looks like your skin
is getting white patches,

but it's actually void of color.

It affects all ethnicities,

it affects all ages,

all genders,

it's not contagious,

it's not life-threatening,

but it is mental warfare.

It's tough.

Now, I was diagnosed with this disease

when I was working on
Eyewitness News in New York City.

I was in the biggest city in the country,

I was on their flagship station,

and I was on their top-rated 5pm newscast,

and the doctor looked me
right in the eye and said,

"You have a disease called vitiligo.

It's a skin disorder
where you lose your pigment.

There is no cure, but there
a-la-la-la-la Charlie Brown's teacher."

He said there is no cure.
All I heard was, "My career is over."

But I just couldn't give up.

I couldn't quit,

because we put too much into this,

and by "we" I mean Mr. Moss,

who sent me to speech and drama club
instead of to detention,

or my sister who paid
part of my college expenses,

or my mom,

who simply gave me everything.

I would not quit.

So I decided to just put on makeup
and keep it moving.

I had to wear makeup anyway.
It's TV, baby, right?

I just put on a little more makeup,
and everything's cool.

And that actually
went very well for years.

I went from being a reporter
in New York City

to being a morning show anchor in Detroit,

the Motor City,

and as the disease got worse,

I just put on more makeup.

It was easy.

Except for my hands.

See, this disease is progressive
and ever-changing.

That means it comes and goes.

At one point, for about a year and a half,

my face ewas completely white.

Yeah, it trips me out too.

(Laughter)

Yeah.

And then, with a little help,

some of the pigment came back,

but living through this process

was like two sides of a coin.

When I'm at work
and I'm wearing the makeup

or wearing the makeup outside,
I'm the TV guy.

"Hey, how you doing everybody? Great."

At home without the makeup, I take it off
and it was like being a leper.

The stares, constantly staring at me,

the comments under their breath.

Some people refused to shake my hand.

Some people moved
to the other side of the sidewalk,

moved to the other side of the elevator.

I felt like they were moving
to the other side of life.

It was tough,

and those were some tough years.

And honestly,

sometimes I just had to shelter in place.

You know what I mean?

Kind of just stay at home
til I get my mind right.

But then I'd put my blinders back on,

I'd get back out there,

do my thing,

but in the process of doing that,

I developed this angry, grumpy demeanor.

Anger is an easy go-to,

and people would leave me alone,

but it just wasn't me.

It wasn't me.

I was allowing this disease to turn me
into this angry, grumpy, spotted guy.

It just wasn't me.

So I had to change.

I knew I could not change other people.

People are going to react
and do what they gonna do.

But there was a cold hard reality as well.

I was the one

that was showing anger, sadness,

and isolating myself.

It was actually a choice.

I was walking out the door every day

expecting the world to react
with negativity,

so I just gave them that mean face first.

If I want to change,
the change had to start with me.

So I came up with a plan.

Two parter, not that deep.

Number one, I would just let people stare,

drink it in, stare all you want,

and not react.

Because the truth is
is when I got this disease,

I was all up in the mirror
staring at every new spot

trying to figure out what is going on.

So I needed to let other people
have that same opportunity

to get that visual understanding.

Number two:

I would react with positivity,

and that was simply a smile,

or, at the very least,

a non-judgmental kind face.

Simple plan.

But it turned out to be
more difficult than I thought.

But over time,

things started to go OK.

Like this one time, I'm at the store
and this dude is like staring at me,

like burning a hole inside of my head.

I was shopping, he's staring at me,

I'm going to the checkout,
he's staring at me,

I'm checking out, he's on the other line
checking out, he's staring at me,

we go to the exit,
he's still staring at me,

so I see he's staring

and finally I turn to him
and I go, "Hey buddy, what's up!"

And he goes, "??. Hi!"

(Laughter)

Awkward.

So to relieve the tension, I say,

"It's just a skin disorder.

It's not contagious,
it's not life-threatening,

it just makes me look a little different."

I end up talking to that guy
in the grocery store

for like five minutes.

It was kind of cool, right?

And at the end of
our conversation, he says,

"You know, if you
didn't have vitilargo"

-- it's actually vitiligo,
but he was trying, so --

"if you didn't have vitilargo,
you'd look just like that guy on TV."

(Laughter)

And I was like, "Haha,
yeah I get that, I get that, yeah."

(Laughter)

So things were going OK.

I was having more good exchanges than bad,

until that day.

I had a little time before work
so I like to stop by the park

to watch the kids play.

They're funny.

So I got a little too close,
this little girl wasn't paying attention,

she's about two or three years old,

she's running, she runs directly
into my leg and falls down, pretty hard.

I thought she hurt herself,

so I reach out to try
and help the little girl

and she looks at my vitiligo

and she screams.

Now kids are pure honesty.

She's like two or three.

This little girl, she wasn't
trying to be mean.

She didn't have any malice in her heart.

This little girl was afraid.

She was just afraid.

I didn't know what to do.

I just took a step back
and put my hands by my side.

I stayed in the house for two weeks
and three days on that one.

It took me a second to get
my mind around the fact

that I scare small children.

And that was something
that I could not smile away.

But I jumped back on my plan

and just put on my blinders,

started going back out.

Two months later, I'm in a grocery store
reaching on the bottom shelf,

and I hear a little voice go,
"You've got a boo-boo?"

It's like a two-year old, three-year old,
same age, little girl,

but she's not crying,

sop I kneel down in front of her

and I don't speak two-year old
so I look up at the mom,

and I say, "What did she say?"

And she says, "She thinks
you have a boo-boo."

So I go, "No, I don't have
a boo-boo, no, not at all."

And the little girl says,

"Duh-duh-hoy?"

And so I look to mom for the translation,

and she says,

"She thinks you're hurt."

And I say, "No, sweetie,
I'm not hurt at all, I'm fine."

And the little girl reaches out
with that little hand

and touches my face.

She's trying to rub the chocolate into
the vanilla or whatever she was doing.

It was amazing! It was awesome.

Because she thought she knew what it was,

she was giving me everything I wanted:

kindness, compassion,

and with the touch of that little hand,

she healed a grown man's pain.

Yee-ha. Healed.

I smiled for a long time on that one.

Positivity is something
worth fighting for,