Gary Younge of The Guardian Newspaper wrote a disturbingly true piece on the growth of race as the key issue in the current US Presidential election. Younge, a black man, speaks openly about the Clinton candidacy’s cynical use of race to destroy Barack Obama’s electability. As a person of colour, as I believe we all are, it at first outraged and then hurt, deeply.
I’ve always had a dilemma checking form boxes on EEOC (USA) or UK governmental forms that are trying their best to place me in a neat little box. It was at first with amusement (and the later, anger) I would tick the box “Other” as I defied anyone to classify me without leaving out an important piece of my cross-cultural/national heritage which began when a Scottish National named “Big Massa” Campbell arrived on the island of Jamaica in the late 1700’s and took a woman of Arawack Indian descent as his bride. Together they had ten children with the Campbell name and thus ½ of my bloodline was forged.
I was then created from two parents with many wonderful colours in their bloodline and I’ve gone on to dutifully further muddy the waters by fathering five children with even more distinct backgrounds. From Arawack Indian to Portuguese Jew, to the West Indian blood flowing through my veins combined with their Irish-American and blue-eyed, blonde Dutch blood, we become more fractured, genealogically speaking, yet more homogenous through all of the seeming differences than trying to cling to a single race or ethnic classification.
We are the world, separate and yet very similar. Thanks to the ease of global transport we have the beginnings of a world 3-4 generations from now where we all will be forged from so very many seemingly different races that classification will become irrelevant. Maybe then we may finally see each other as human beings rather than referring to Barack Obama as the first black US president, when indeed his regal mixed bloodline would make mine pale in comparison.
And yet we think we are all different and the fear of encountering someone different looking than ourselves makes us feel superior to another. The problem is inside we are mostly just tired, hungry and afraid. And from that fear, somehow our backgrounds separate us in a way which we gain the illusion of safety by hanging around those that look like us. We can neither see nor otherwise acknowledge that the differences are small and that we are more alike than different. That is what hurts the most. We are so afraid of each other, dialogue is next to impossible as all sides cling to the ridiculous notion that we are somehow separate from each other.
When I was 7, we moved from a neighbourhood many would describe both then and now as an inner city ghetto, a tough neighbourhood of Boston known as Roxbury. It was for many years a mixed culture and race immigrant landing spot where large and beautiful old houses lined the streets and there was great pride in the neighbourhood. The 1960s though saw government housing projects come and this area was slowly ripped apart by hopelessness, drugs and discrimination. There were racial riots in the 1960’s. My parents, seeing where the area was headed, took the difficult decision to leave for the suburbs.
1965 was a time of racial discord as Dr. King led marches across the south for voting rights. We were fortunate to live in the racially quiet Northeast US. It was a place where prejudice seemed only to exist in the Italian North End and Irish South Boston neighbourhoods. Even then folks got along by keeping to themselves. That changed in the early 70’s when mandatory bussing of inner city black children from Roxbury forcibly brought children under police escort into South Boston causing another nasty racial stain on my country.
While Dr. King focussed on the Voting Rights Act and ending segregation in the South, we lived in relative quiet where discrimination was rarely vocalised but you always knew you were different. My family never allowed themselves to be considered white or black. They refused to pick sides so when we were dropped into an all-white suburb, the realtor thought my parents were “courageous” for moving away from the inner city (said much the way Sir Humphrey Applegate would tell his Minister a political decision was, meaning it was the kiss of death for him personally) and wouldn’t we want to consider a house in another neighbourhood? A large part of the debate that would swirl for years was missing as we settled in and were conveniently wrapped in protective cotton wool.
I heard the “N” word directed my way in anger a few times and could not understand who they were talking about. I even overheard a teacher describing two classmates, “Carl and Lynette are black; we don’t know what Denis is…” It seemed very important for them to know though.
This is why I found Barack Obama’s Philadelphia speech and, when I saw the length of the accompanying text, almost said, I’ll listen tomorrow. I’m glad I didn’t. It was the most gripping, heart-wrenching and heart-warming speech I have ever heard delivered by anyone, let alone a politician. As exhausted as I was, I felt energised by at the end. Finally someone captured what was happening but no one dared express.
All Dr. King and Senator Obama ever wanted was that we talk “with” rather than “at” each other and that we drop the politics of hatred, polarisation and division that have been a hallmark since the Republican revolution election of 1994. With that election result came arrogance and hubris that said very simply, “we don’t have to listen to you anymore because we won, you lost. It’s our country now so sit down and shut up!” The landscape of politics, the media and indeed all discussion changed forever that day.
As an American living abroad I am deeply embarrassed for my country. I’m sick of red and blue states, racial and economic divisions, haves and have-nots. Bickering schoolchildren get along better and accomplish more than our elected representatives in Washington and Whitehall. I watch David Cameron attack Prime Minister Gordon Brown (and Mr. Blair before him) with a supercilious, smarmy contempt in the vein of Newt Gingrich attacking President Clinton. When cameras roll, gloves come off and it’s Showtime! Anything goes and we’re all made the poorer for the spectacle of this respect-less jousting.
It is a deep prayer that this year changes that and the nation and the world embrace this man’s spirit of hope. He will be the first to openly admit that he does not have all the answers. We dug this hole together and only together by listening to all ideas and then having a strong leader capable of thinking, acting and speaking so eloquently can convince us to work together to rebuild what once was the greatest beacon of hope in the world. I’m tired of being a bully, a thug and ignoring the rest of the world.
We had it our way for too long and all empires eventually collapse. The rest of the world grew up, started to say no and we now want to sulk, take our ball and go home? That is not an option.
Mrs. Clinton, her husband and staff should not be allowed to spread false whispers. I had hoped she would bow out next week or before. Instead I fear she will continue until race is the only issue and a weary Barack Obama throws up his hands in disgust.
It is said we get the government we deserve. By sitting on the sidelines and allowing this to happen, we will have all done just that.
