Two weeks o'hope--WHOOPS--I mean ONE week o'hope...

So it's been two weeks since America woke up and realized that the night before wasn't a dream--that we had, indeed, elected Barack Obama to be our next President of the United Staets.


And there's been a lot of speculation about what his presidency will mean. For example, a recent poll came out that disclosed that over 70% of Americans thought that a President Obama would be able to fix our financial troubles. Human rights organizations are placing great hopes on a President Obama closing down Guantanamo Bay's detention facilities, and advocates for reproductive rights are anticipating an overturning of Bush-era draconian policies that don't allow for sex education and distribution of contraception to developing nations.

I do hope that these things come to pass. But one prediction that I don't think will happen is the end of racism.

I'm sure most regular readers of this blog will also see the absurdity of believing that the election of Barack Obama to the highest office in this nation does NOT signal an end to racism. Because racism, particularly in its institutional and cultural form, is too big, too widespread, and too amorphous to be ended by as historic a moment as the election of our first openly mixed-race, African American president.

But...

What I do think Obama's presidency offers us is a chance to continue the discussions and dialogues on race that the long primary season and presidential race began. Discussions about sexism vs. racism (or as I like to think of it, the silliness of trying to rank oppressions and the emergence of a recognition that sexism AND racism are inextricably twinned in many ways), the history of African Americans in this country, the history of racial formation and other racial and ethnic minorities in this country, and just a general conversation of our everyday musings and encounters with the big "R" (whether you want to call it race or racism or whether you want to talk about how to live life as an anti-racist person).

So I invite everyone reading this to contribute some possible topics for discussion, and if possible I will try to initiate the dialogue in this space, but of course I also encourage all of you to continue conversations wherever you live. It won't be easy, it will often be uncomfortable, and I don't know what any of us will change others' minds or our own. But the only way to make change happen is to try. And having the conversation or multiple conversations seems to be the best way to start trying.

[NOTE: Amendment 11:41pm EST: I just realized that I didn't count my weeks correctly! Which was confirmed by the comment, below (Thank you Sang-Shil!). Which just goes to show that math skills really aren't my strong suit. Or maybe it shows my desire at revisionist history in terms of wanting that initial giddy feeling to have started earlier than just Nov. 4. Funny what hope will do to you--makes you feel you've been living in the brand new world order much longer than you have...]

T.G.I.F.: Democracy in action

A few months back I started a sporadic Friday series called T.G.I.F.: The Great Impossible Feat award.

And it strikes me that this Friday of all Fridays deserves a T.G.I.F. But it's not for Barack Obama and his campaign, although his election this past Tuesday to become our 44th President of the United States on January 20, 2009 is, indeed, great and impossible. And I still feel choked up when I imagine this picture below as our First Family:


But the really Great and Impossible Feat is actually something we take for granted. That every four years, U.S. citizens who qualify to vote (age, felony record, mental competency, etc are potential barriers) are able to cast a ballot for the person they want to be their next President.


And during this election, people turned out in record numbers to vote. For the first time in a long time, people worked hard on behalf of the candidate of their choice--they CARED about WHO was elected. And even for those who didn't donate money or knock on doors or called people, they still did something that is really special: they voted.


[Look at these lines! When was the last time people lined up to vote like this? Or when was the last time record number of people showed up to vote early?]

People voted. And yes, the majority of American citizens voted for the candidate that I supported. And that makes me happy. But the thing is, this was a vote that was historic not just because it resulted in the election of our first visibly non-white, mixed-race, African American President--this was an election that also signaled that people COULD make a difference, that grassroots organizing DOES work, and that every vote COUNTS.


November 4, 2008 was democracy in action. It was historic. It was awe inspiring. And it was simple. People showed up to vote.


And THAT is the Great, Impossible Feat.

Do my ears deceive me?

Scene: Dollar Rental car agency just outside Bradley International Airport

Date/Time: Monday, November 3, 2008 @4:30pm

Characters: Three Dollar employees (all are Caucasian American in their thirties, 2 are female, one is male), Three customers waiting for the shuttle to Bradley Airport (2 are Caucasian and look to be a mother and teenage daughter, 1 is an Asian American female in her late 30s).

Female Dollar Employee #1: "Would you look at this handwriting? I can't make out if it is the number 1, or the number 7, or a Chinese man dancing!" (she laughs)

Female Dollar Employee #2: (Joining in the laughter--very boisterously) "That is SO FUNNY!"

Male Dollar Employee: (finishes his phone call and notices his co-workers laughing hysterically at this point). "What's so funny?"

Female Dollar Employee #2: "She (points to fellow employee) said that this handwriting is so bad it looks like a little man dancing."

Male Dollar Employee: (puzzled) "Oh..."

Customers waiting inside: Silent

[interior monologue of the Asian American customer:

"Chinese man dancing???!!! WTF is that supposed to mean??? Is that a racist comment??? Why did they glance at me and why are they laughing so hard???? Am I being paranoid/oversensitive? Should I say something? What do I say? I am SO TIRED and just want to catch my flight home...do I have to say something? Wait, now the woman is saying that it is a "little" man dancing. Did I mishear the first woman? I could have SWORN she said "Chinese man dancing"? Why else would they be laughing so hard? But maybe I misheard the first woman...maybe my racial paranoia is making me hear things. But NO! I DID hear her say that! But if I say something, they're just going to tell me I misheard, and I KNOW I didn't mishear. Damn, there's the shuttle, I'm just going to let this go, even though this is bothering me and making me feel uncomfortable...."

California: a state of contradiction

Yesterday I went to Southern U. to meet with some students (yes, I actually to try to be a diligent prof.), and I ran into a colleague in the hallway. Of course we both had bloodshot eyes from our lack of sleep from the night before but we also had this giddiness that felt palatable (another colleague sent me an email telling me that he thought that the mood on campus was just happier and lighter--someone else said the world seemed shinier).

But my friend also provided me with a sobering reminder. We are both Californians, at heart, and she reminded me that Proposition 8 in California had passed by a 4% margin.

For those of you who don't know, Prop 8 was an amendment that strikes down gay marriage, preventing more happy couples from celebrating their partnerships. People needed to vote NO on Prop 8 to keep marriage rights for gay and lesbian couples. Unfortunately, many did not--because the pro-Prop 8 forces were well funded and organized, predominantly by religious groups outside of California (80% of funding to promote Prop 8 came from Utah).

And for liberal-progressive Californians the celebration of Obama's election was tinged by the passage of Prop 8.

I often wax nostalgic for California. I even teach a class on California narratives, one that focuses on the state as a site of social change. And yet, as liberal and progressive as certain segments of California's population is (most notably the SF Bay Area which overwhelmingly OPPOSED Prop 8) I can't help but remember that California is a state of contradiction. It has a very diverse population and one of the largest Asian American and Latino (specifically Chicano) populations in the U.S. But it also has a long and deep history of racial animosity towards these particular groups. And while left leaning, this is also a state that has been governed by Republican stalwarts such as Ronald Reagan, Pete Wilson, and now "The Governator."

However, for a realistic take on what we need to do to keep fighting, please see this entry by the Poplicks duo, Junichi & Oliver. I think, in particular, Oliver's reminder to us that we need to keep fighting--that the road to civil rights has never been linear, is an important one to keep in mind.

And for any of you in need of convincing about the need for human rights FOR ALL--let me point you to NYU law professor Kenji Yohsino's Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights. Because marriage should be a right for all humans, regardless of their identities (again, need I remind anyone of the anti-miscegenation laws on the books for so long?)

Finally, in a more upbeat note, please see this link:

Californians, or maybe more accurately San Franciscans, definitely have a progressive sense of history making (and a great sense of humor too!)

November 5, 2008 -- President-elect Barack Obama

I went to bed very late last night and woke up about an hour ago and laid in bed for a while as my mind slowly woke up.

And as I started to come out of my dream state, a grin spread over my face because I realized that last night, the U.S. had elected Barack Hussein Obama to be our next President of the United States.

It feels unreal. I have been reluctant to let myself imagine what this day would be like--what it would feel like, the next morning, to realize that it had actually happened--that the United States had chosen to elect its first African American, mixed-race president.

Last night, once the polls closed on the West Coast and CNN displayed its graphics declaring that Barack Obama had just been elected president, I wept. I sat on my friend's sofa and cried and cried, big gulping sobs because I had been holding in so much over the last few months.

And in the minutes and hours that followed, as we broke out the champagne, as we continued to follow the CNN maps that showed the electoral votes that Obama had gained, as we each reverentially imagined what this historic night meant, I felt something rising up in me that I don't often truly feel.

I felt pride that I was a citizen of the United States. I felt a huge surge of patriotism for my country. In the words of Michelle Obama, for the first time in my adult life, I felt very proud to be an American.

I know we have domestic and international problems of monumental proportions. I know that not everyone sees Barack Obama's election as the symbol of change that so many of his supporters do. And I know that as the 44th President of the United States Barack Obama won't cure everything that ails us, and his election does not signal the end of race problems in our country--and it certainly does NOT signal the end of racism in the United States.

But....

it gives me hope.

"E" Day, Part III

Yes We Can!


Yes We Did!

"E" Day, Part II

What I wanted to write earlier today (but was too rushed to describe adequately) was that I have really been very emotional today. In addition to being nervous, I also feel incredibly awed by the historic moment and the possibilities that could happen tonight. I know that all sounds very cliche, but it's the truth.

I feel so emotional about all of this that while I was flipping back and forth between the Today Show, CNN, and MSNBC, they showed Barack Obama and Michelle Obama with their two daughters headed to a polling station to vote. And I cried when he and Michelle took their ballots and started to fill them out. And then when he finally submitted his ballot into the machine and people were clapping, I cried again. And not just little tears, I really sat on my sofa and cried.

Why?

Because I never thought I would see this happen. That a non-white, mixed-race, African American, person of color would be on the brink of potentially becoming President of the United States.

This is the first election in my memory that I can FEEL the emotion of it--I want this SO BADLY. And as much as I can tell you that there are all these political and ideological reasons that I support the Democratic nominee, there is also the symbolic moment--the symbolic import of his racial identity--that as someone committed to an anti-racist, social justice worldview, this moment is one I will always remember.

"E" Day

It is November 4, 2008. It is election day. My server is down at home so this post will be short (because I'm at school and need to catch a bus).

I AM SO NERVOUS I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF!!!