Other people say it better

There's been a lot of discussion lately about Prop 8 and role of African American voters. It's been a major topic of blogging and conversation at my school and among my blogger friends and around lunch tables and over gchat. Mostly my friends are white and while we think of ourselves as liberal and accepting, there's admittedly been a certain perspective lacking.

If you're hoping that I am now going to start a reasoned discourse on this topic, you're about to be disappointed. I'm not. You might have noticed from my recent posts that being reasonable is not my strong suit right now. I'm on the edge.

But I read a post today about this whole issue that I found to be incredibly reasoned, and so for those who are looking for something like that, I'm pointing you to it.

A teaser:

In order to address homophobia in the black community, we have to be able to acknowledge that it exists without people of color and "allied" white liberals knee-jerk calling anyone who does so a "racist." Calling each other names and then angrily retreating back to our own segregated little corners of the world because some things are too "taboo" to acknowledge won't get us anywhere near addressing this. White LGBT people need to acknowledge white privilege and call people out for making asinine, racist comments on the internet and in the public sphere. Just because you are gay it doesn't give you a free pass to be racist or sexist.

These discussions are too important for that kind of stunted knee-jerk type of thinking.

Not only does homophobia contribute to the escalating rates of HIV/AIDS in the black community, but the denial of marriage rights for gay men and lesbians is unfair discrimination, inequality, and intolerance that stamps gay people with a badge of inferiority.

I anticipate realizing Obama's promise of hope and change for all Americans. I celebrate what his victory means for our nation and to African-Americans. As one commenter here said a few days ago, it's a great time to have a black Democrat in the White House. Now, we have work to do. We are all harmed when the rights of some of us are taken away or denied. Even though the injustices we face are different, I remain in solidarity with all people who face true injustice.

At least the anti-choice folks didn't win

I turned on the computer this morning fully intending to write a glowing, beaming, disgustingly happy post about Obama, about progress and change and the spirit of America. After falling asleep to the sounds of celebration in the streets, I was ready this morning to jump up and down. I had a title ready – “The Bradley Effect can kiss my hot, victorious bootay.” It was good.

And then I sat down and started reading. It started with Virgin in the Volcano. Normally I count on her blog for some laughs, but not this morning. This morning she wrote,

“There were happy honkers here in Boston all night, celebrating Obama's victory and the blue turn of the House and Senate. After 8 years of Bush disasters, people finally had something to look forward to and felt good. But I don't feel good at all. In California, Prop 8, with 91% of the vote reported this morning, looks like it will pass, once again denying homosexuals the right to marry. Florida and Arizona passed props banning gay marriage. Arkansas passed a prop to ban gay couples from adopting. And in California, you know who voted overwhelmingly for Prop 8? Black people.

So exactly what kind of moment is this in history? I don't think it's the amazing triumph the newscasters are touting. A black man became president, sure, but the vote really wasn't for him. The vote was for whomever not connected to Bush, to the Republican party, who has steered the world into the worst economic crisis since the 1920's. People voted for their jobs and pension plans, the value of their mutual funds, the ability to obtain a line of credit. And when those things were not involved, they voted on the same old hateful lines. They voted to say, no faggots welcome.

The new myth of America, the one that drones on about change and humble beginnings, is the old myth of America, and I am tired of it. I am ashamed. I can't protect the people I love from institutionalized hate. My parents will have to pull out their No on 8 signs from the front lawn, feel over and over the ugly things the country has said about their son.”

I read the results of all of the ballot measures. I cried. It’s a resounding blow to gays. A resounding statement that America is not behind us – this hopeful, changing America.

I feel like the cheers were stolen right out of my mouth.

And yet…

Obama DID win. A black man will be the president of the United States of America.

I am disappointed that the country is not where I want it to be.

I am disappointed with the black voters in California.

I am personally hurt by the votes of people who want to deny people like me the right to marry the people we love or to adopt children.

BUT I can’t ignore the import of what happened yesterday. I can’t ignore the fact that the people of this country – black and white and hispanic and asian and everything in between – voted Obama into office.

Despite the pain of these ballot measures, I am moved by this election. I still feel hope. I can’t help myself. In a country where less than 50 years ago, it was not illegal to keep a black man from voting, a black man has become president. That message of hope and change is for all of us – even if today wasn’t our day. This election has shown us that impossibilities are possibilities and that our day will come.

So, I can’t jump up and down, but I won’t cry in the corner either.

Yesterday on my tour of the Supreme Court, the guide pointed out the different animals represented in the architecture of one of the courtyards. Lions to represent protection. Owls to represent wisdom. And turtles to represent the slow and steady pace of justice.

Slow and steady she goes….

I Am a Real American

Inspired by jen, who I sort of want to be when I grow up.

I sat in my feminist legal theory class yesterday and watched a presentation on critical race feminism. The presenters showed a portion of the video A Girl Like Me. At one point during the video, the creator performs the famous Brown v. Board of Education doll test with young black children. I watched as a young girl chose the black doll in front of her when asked which doll was the bad doll and chose the white doll when asked which doll was the nice doll. She wasn't confused about why. When the interviewer asked, she said, "Cause this one's black...cause this one's white." And then the interviewer asked her which one she looked like. You can see it on her face. She starts to reach for the white doll. She wants desperately to pick up the white doll. But she knows the truth. She picks up the black doll.

I cried.

It's enough to make you want you to cover your head and quit - that over 60 years after the original tests, these kids are still getting that same message.

But we talked about it. We, a room of racially-diverse people, sat and discussed what it means to be black or white or African or Jamaican or female or male in this country. We agreed and we disagreed.

It doesn't fix it, I know. But I think that, for me, it's part of what it means to be A Real American.

It means acknowledging the state of things. It means acknowledging that there are still little black girls in America who think that being black is bad. It means taking that information in and crying about it and breathing it into all of your cells so that you know that when you breath back out into the world, you're breathing out something better.

It means accepting that the history of America is not only one of hope and promise and resourcefulness and freedom, but also one of fear and discrimination and pain and untruths. Not so that we can flog ourselves. But so that we can see it and learn from it and make the conscious choice to do better, to be better.

It means learning to embrace gray. To see the story from the other side, and to see all the myriad of stories that occur in between.

It means embracing your own story, the parts that make you proud and the parts that make you ashamed. It means sitting with the knowledge that you are part of what this country is and that you are part of what it will become.

It means acknowledging what an amazing gift it is to call this place our home and these people our people - this flawed home and these flawed people - and to get to play our own role in its growth.

It means believing that nothing real is perfect.