reposted from my personal blog

How dare you.

“I have a much broader base to build a winning coalition on,” she said in an interview with USA TODAY. As evidence, Clinton cited an Associated Press article “that found how Sen. Obama’s support among working, hard-working Americans, white Americans, is weakening again, and how whites in both states who had not completed college were supporting me.”

Emphasis mine. How dare you. Hard-working Americans are white, huh? All of those other pesky colored folks must be screwing up the curve, stealing your jobs, plundering your businesses. That one statement shows exactly why people like Jeremiah Wright are angry with America. That statement shows exactly why you are the wrong person to be President of the United States. In case you hadn’t noticed - if you want this job of President you’re going to have to win over a hell of a lot more people than your “hard-working Americans, white Americans.” Not everyone in this country is white. That one statement effectively disengages a hearty proportion of people for whom you serve.

Why does this bother me so much? I have racism on my brain a lot lately; we have been discussing it a lot on the moms board I participate in, and I have had to, again, explain what it is like being Asian American. It is a tiring discourse, one that is emotionally draining and sometimes I question its efficacy or its worth. But I do it because it is important to me to speak up. I want Matthew to grow up challenging statements like the one Clinton gave and see it for the racist crap that it is. I want him to fight for change, and I want him to win.

So, Senator Clinton, this is why you will definitely NOT be getting my vote in November. I won’t be voting for McCain, but you, I am leaving behind. I thought long and hard at the beginning of this long election cycle about your candidacy and Senator Obama’s, and I have always thought that no matter what happens, I would be happy to vote for either of you. As of now, though, we’re done - through - kaput - finito. It’s over. It’s not me, it’s you.

Best of luck as Senator,

Casey

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFxk7glmMbo

 Discuss

I swear I am not the youtube queen.

It’s interesting that you all started posting about race; I had wanted to write a post about race, but wondered how I was going to smoothly go from Lysol-ing lady bits to a topic so very far removed from that particular chemical conundrum.

So here’s how it all went down. I took a few days off to hang out with Benjamin while my in-laws (our childcare providers) took a vacation. The two of us knocked around town each day, running various errands, one of which was getting the oil changed in my car.

Normally I go to a place that is staffed solely by a very specific minority group: Young African American Males. Let’s shorten it to YAAMs for ease of typing.

I’ve been going to this particular place for years, probably since college, and I can’t say much about it other than they do seem to change the oil. There is not usually conversation other than the least number of words necessary to complete the task. Smiles are not returned. Eye contact is fleeting, if at all. One time I was helped by a guy there who was really funny and friendly, but alas, I never saw him again. He was probably fired for being too friendly.

On Thursday, though, I went somewhere else to get my oil changed. I was greeted cheerfully by Steve and Edd and Emal. Edd handed me a sign-in form on which he’d magically already written my license plate number. The three of them buzzed around me as they started their tasks, asking me questions, furrowing their brows at my damaged wheel cover and laughing when I told them the ridiculous story of how it happened. Emal, in particular, had a warm friendliness, his chocolatey eyes crinkling merrily even while cursing Chrysler for the awkward placement of my air filter. They all waved goodbye as I pulled away.

I left there smiling, feeling good about humanity. I thought about Emal and Edd, who were clearly of Middle Eastern descent (as were several other employees there), and how lovely they were despite the fact that our President tells me they are surely part of an underground terrorist cell, filtering my money straight back to Osama Bin Laden. I decided I was done with the unfriendly YAAMs at the other place. And then, in my mind, I started lumping them together with the troublesome YAAMs at our old condo, and my mother-in-law’s surly paper boy, who I now say Hello to in part because it makes him uncomfortable, and I feel that he needs to learn to live in a world where people say Hello.

Ironically, when I got home, Bill Cosby and Alvin Poussaint were on Oprah talking about YAAMs. They said that 70% of them are born to single mothers. 50% drop out of school. 60% end up incarcerated. They just wrote a book called Come On People: On the Path from Victims to Victors.

It was a great episode. And it got me thinking about what I had just done to those boys in my thoughts. I had created a folder in my mind, labeled it Undesirable, and then thrown all of those young men into it, never to be heard from again.

It is hard, though, given the facts about how many of the young men in this category are in fact engaging in criminal activity, to decide where reasonable wariness ends and prejudice begins. I hate to even say that. It pains me. I can’t believe I’m writing it for others to see. But mathematically, it is hard to deny. When I was a waitress, I knew that a table of elderly people was likely to leave a crappy tip. It was just statistically true, and known by all waitresses. But the challenge there was pretty much the same as the challenge at hand: Don’t let a person’s unknowable potential behavior affect the way you behave towards them. Serve them well. Smile. Let right action be your reward.

I guess that’s all. That was a lot! Next time I’ll post on something light and airy, like how I secretly hope Halle Berry gets big old stretch marks to prove that she’s human, or how Benjamin is getting an ingrown toenail and I can’t figure out how to get a 15-month-old to soak his foot in epsom salts. Until then, I’ll be eating my anti-Bush hummus and honing my charms, thanks to Alice’s post. I’m learning a lot here!

Casey’s “Open Mouth, Insert Foot” post (or, rather, the discussion that followed it) reminded me of this article. I’ll admit that I’m not qualified to talk about hierarchies in American black culture, being white, but I found it interesting that even within a group there are subsets and hierarchies that still need to be overcome.

Proof positive that book smarts do not equal intelligence.

This brings a topic to mind about how to teach kids about oppression and social justice. I just bought Matthew an Asian baby doll and I’m hoping just by the level of discourse Josh and I normally have about race* that he’ll learn and embrace diversity and practice it too. How, though, do you get beyond a very surface-level way of dealing with race that really matters - instead of glorifying it by going to a festival or having representative food?