« reflections on why the election of barack obama affected me so deeply »
As is likely true for many of you, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about President-Elect Barack Obama's historic win this week, and how it has profoundly affected me. And I realized that if I don't get these thoughts down on paper, I'm probably going to remain a bit muddle-headed and unable to concentrate going forward. So I thought I'd share a few thoughts here. I know I said that I try not to talk about politics on this site, and I'm keeping to my word: this isn't about politics.
It's about race.
I became a fan of Barack Obama's about a year ago when I read his book, The Audacity of Hope. I, like many people, didn't really know that much about Barack Obama, and purchased the book to find out a bit more. And while, certainly, I do find I agree with much of his politics, something else struck me as I read the words:
He's just like me.
Well, okay, he's not just like me: for one thing, he was born in the United States, and I wasn't. But he's a multiracial person who self-identifies as black, just as I am. He's spent significant years of his childhood living outside of the United States, just like I did. He has family members who don't look anything like him from a racial perspective, just as I do. He has an American law school education; so do I. He seems to have very little tolerance for gross generalizations based on race, religion, nationality or sexual orientation; and in this aspect, we might differ: I have NO tolerance for such generalizations.
Still, even as I go through life as a multiracial person, in an interracial marriage, with a biracial child, with very close friends and family members of many nationalities, races, creeds, cultures, religions and sexual orientations, even as I live my life ensuring that I relate to people and judge them "not on the colour of their skin but on the content of their character," the truth is that it is not always easy living in a country where you "look different." I moved with my family to Texas in the late seventies/early eighties, and I remember as a child being made fun of for being the only black kid in class, especially because I "sounded funny" -- and I was picked on, not just by fellow students, but by teachers, as well. In the nineties, often people didn't believe I was an engineer ("you mean a draftsman, right?" was the inevitable response). And in early years of this century, there was the occasional person who didn't believe I was a lawyer ("a lawyer? Or a paralegal?" was a common need for clarification). And, in fact, as recently as about 6 weeks ago, an executive at my former employer looked at me and said with kind eyes, "Well, Karen, you're not really black" -- a comment I'm sure he meant as a compliment, since I know he likes me, but while saying it in no way realizing how potentially insulting his statement was. For this reason, while I've only rarely been the victim of outright racist hostility, I certainly believe I have more commonly been the subject of ... racial skepticism, let's say. Has this affected how I interact with people, whether they be friends, coworkers or strangers? Not really, I don't think -- I've certainly had, and continue to have very rewarding relationships with 99% of the people with whom I come in contact. But still, yes, I certainly do understand the sentiment behind the comment, "If you're black/a woman/gay/Arab/Muslim/foreign/Jewish/whatever, you have to work twice as hard to be considered half as good." I get that.
So. Now a multiracial, self-identified-as-a-black-man, has-experience-living-overseas, man-with-a-funny-name is the President of the United States. And what do I feel? Elation, yes. Moved, certainly. But even more overwhelmingly, and what I believe was the root of my spontaneous tears the night of November 4th, 2008:
I feel relief.
I'm relieved that maybe, just maybe, characterizations like "well, you're not really black (or white, or hispanic, or straight or gay or whatever)" will start to quietly disappear. I'm relieved that maybe, just maybe, comics and comedians are going to have to come up with new material -- material that doesn't include gross sterotypes about how blacks perceive whites, or whites perceive blacks, or how any race of people perceives any other race of people. I'm relieved that maybe, just maybe, the skepticism or wariness that so many people feel when relating to someone who doesn't look like them, or sound like them, or pray like them, or love like them has diminished, if even a little bit.
And I'm so relieved that maybe, just maybe, the world my little girl will grow up in will be one where characterizations and reactions like the above are just distant, ridiculous memories.
Fri, November 7, 2008
Reader Comments (31)
I am happy that this means so much to you. I think the stereotypes of race are finally disappearing. They just don't make sense anymore. Even comedians need to connect to reality to make people laugh, and if it doesn't work anymore, the comedians just need to move on. Unfortunately, there will always be new ways that people will separate from each other, whether it is through sexual orientation, body size, religion, etc. Obama's election is personal to me to, and I'm not African-American or biracial. His election means that people can change for the better, and see people in new ways, and learn to overcome stereotypes of the past.
Amen.
I abstain from political conversations on my blog as well and yet I wrote about my reactions to the election yesterday...
http://laundrynotes.blogspot.com/2008/11/uncensored.html
I bought Obama's book right after I heard him speak at the DNC in 2004. I actually went and got a handful of tissues before his acceptance speech began, knowing I'd need them.
I am your average 50 year old, white, christian, straight, woman. My life has been richly blessed and my world expanded by knowing those that are not just like me, for whatever reason. It doesn't mean I have to agree, but I cannot reject and hate just because we are not the same.
I couldn't think of the words, but you are right, it is RELIEF. Maybe now people will begin to look into the heart of those around them. Maybe now we can be a community that cares about each other. For my grown daughters and 10 year old grandson, I feel hope for our country.
Growing up in Kansas City in the eighties as a multi-racial child with a funny name and a white Italian mother and an Afro-Cuban father, I can completely understand what you're saying.
"What are you?" was the most common question I heard. And I would automatically go off on a spiel about how I was Italian-Cuban, born in Venezuela, blah blah blah. And as an adult I have really thought about it: "What are you?" No. "WHO are you?" And my answer is: I'm me, because of and in spite of all that.
Obama is the incarnation of globalization. He is the modern man.
Fantastic post. I cried all day Wednesday and am soo very hopeful for our country.
I am very moved by your post. I am white and live in a very non-diverse suburban area. And while I don't really have a lot on paper in common with him, I feel like Obama is just like me as well.
One of the things that was so cool about this election is that my four year old son is so excited about "O-Rock Obama." He watched the news coverage with me and we talked a lot about how excited everyone was. The greatest thing is that he sees that this guy, this regular father, is going to be president. And he has no concept of the significance of our first African-American president. I love that my son's excitement has nothing to do with this being any different from anyone else becoming president. There are no qualifiers, no descriptions that tell my son that Obama is any different than anyone else. I am so excited about this significant election and I'm so excited that my son has no idea it is any more significant than any other person becoming president.
I think Mauryn (and you, of course) hit it right on. I am so excited for the change that's coming, and what it means for all of us!
I loved your post. I am a huge Obama fan. I went to rallies for him, volunteered for him, made phone calls, etc. I was moved to tears when it was official. I am filled with hope, excitement, and pride. I'm starting to believe in our country again.
Is it conceivable that as a white woman I can feel the same sense of relief you feel? Cause my tears on Tuesday night and Wednesday morning were shed for the same reasons. With hope that the injustices and prejudices of this world can be shed as we move forward as one... because I've always believed that we can, and finally here is someone who has inspired a nation and by extension the world to believe that we can...
Beautiful post Karen.
tash --
Absolutely, it's conceivable. That's what makes this event so much more beautiful. :-)
K.