Monique Bell writes Dr. Monique L. Bell is a full professor of marketing at California State University, Fresno, where she strives to provide engaging learning experiences and, through her research, explores the intersections of business and culture. Her research on diversity and inclusion in the wine industry, including two editions of the Terroir Noir: Study of Black Wine Entrepreneurs, has led to increased awareness and important conversations. Dr. Bell is a Wine Enthusiast Social Visionary of the Year nominee, Association of African American Vintners (AAAV) Educator Award winner, and Women of the Vine and Spirits Fuel Your Dreams scholarship recipient. Additionally, she was an invited fellow at the Professional Wine Writers’ Symposium and presented at the Institute of Masters of Wine Symposium, The Wine Arc in Stellenbosch, South Africa, and the U.S. Sustainable Winegrowing Summit, among others. Dr. Bell earned the Wine and Spirit Education Trust (WSET) Level 2 certification with distinction. She is the founder of Wyne Belle, where she writes about wine, delivers wine experiences and marketing consultation, and celebrates "vinovation."
A Most Memorable Wine Flight
Usually, I was at complete ease flying aboard airplanes. The escapism of floating in the no-man’s land of the sky lulled me into forgetfulness. Within the pressurized cabin, the pressures of the external world ceased to exist – if only for a few hours. However, as I began to settle into my seat for the Germany-bound flight, my usual calm was absent. Instead, my mind dotted from one worry to the next.
What is Germany like? How many Black people live there?
What right did I have to speak in front of wine experts? How will they receive my presentation?
My destination was the Institute of Masters of Wine Symposium in Wiesbaden, Germany, where I would be among the five hundred or so rare, relentless oenophiles who had achieved “master” status in their practice. As for me, I merely had a doctoral degree (in business, at that). My wine pedigree was flimsier than the papyrus certificate enshrining my WSET Level 1 status.
The topic on which I would present was “Wine Against All Odds,” which synchronized perfectly with my own highly improbable wine journey. Prior to 2020, wine had been a faceless background character in my life. Like my glittering Swarovski bracelet gifted to me by my mother, wine was for special occasions. Both seemed too ostentatious and too fussy for quotidian affairs.
I was grateful for the distraction when my seatmate, a man in his 70s, began to make small talk and inquired about my destination in Germany. From his poised, commanding presence, I surmised that he had a military background, which he later confirmed. I introduced myself as a professor from Fresno, California and I told him that I was presenting at a wine conference and was a bit nervous about it. His eyes creased with a twinkle while he smiled and joked that I was probably much more “important” than I pretended. I laughed and was thankful that he couldn’t read traces of the impostor syndrome spiral from which his conversation had just rescued me.
In Wiesbaden, I arrived at the frenetic symposium hotel where boisterous laughs and back-slaps jostled me into reality. In less than 36 hours, the eyes of these experts would be focused expectantly and unforgiving on me.
As I approached the elevator, I recognized my co-panelist and introduced myself.
“What is your presentation about?” she asked.
“I’ll be discussing the experiences of Black winemakers in the U.S.,” I replied assuredly and eager for follow-up questions.
She squinched her eyes quizzically, staring for just a beat too long.
“Well, I represent everyone in [her home country]. I’m for everybody; I don’t separate based upon race,” she replied as she stepped into the elevator.
In that moment, I was startled into silence and a paralysis that stopped me from joining her on the elevator. Yet soon I was grateful for what the wine expert had unwittingly revealed to me. All the contextual shorthand that most Americans knew (even if they didn’t believe) about race was foreign in Germany – nor would it easily resonate among the Eurocentric audience of wine connoisseurs.
I would have to re-write my entire presentation.
The next day, as I approached the podium with an eerily steady resolve. Despite revising my presentation at the (very) last minute and looking onto a field of more than 300 inquisitive faces, I was confident that my words would arouse this audience – for better or worse.
Fearlessly, I transported the audience to contemporary America citing vivid and tangible examples of disparities Black Americans generally, and Black winemakers specifically, continue to face despite the promises of 2020. I shared a headline from the past month about a Black consumer who entered a wine shop for service and recorded a tirade of racial slurs spat at him as he tried to make a purchase.
Once the absurdist reality of American racial discrimination was illuminated, I could move past the participants’ potential resistance to open their minds and hearts. For centuries wine catalyzed connection and conviviality. Surely, this divine elixir could imbue transnational empathy and community.
When the presentation ended, there was uproarious applause. Over the next days, more than three dozen attendees approached me to share their gratitude for my talk or commend the unvarnished truths that I shared. It was overwhelming in the best way. I understood what it meant to be celebrated – to be a “celebrity” in its purest meaning.
After the symposium, I returned to the minutiae of work and motherhood. As I pored through a backlog of emails, I saw a sender’s name that I didn’t recognize and the subject “well wishes.”
The message was from my airplane seatmate from what seemed like weeks ago. He mentioned that he looked me up online with the brief details that I provided. Later, in turn, I searched for him online and discovered that he was a high-ranking federal official, so perhaps he had more search capabilities than he cared to share. In any case, his message read, in part:
“As I suspected, you know more about wine than you let on. Always good to be modest.”
Image by Constantine Johnny via Getty Images.
