Thoughts on Race
Mar. 18th, 2008 05:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatI want to share this speech on race that Senator Obama gave in Pennsylvania today, which moved me as I read it during my lunch-break at work. I don't care whether you vote for Obama or not, or even if you are an American. This is interesting and important speech about racism and pretty much states how I feel about racism but have never found the words to express my views.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/18/us/politics/18text-obama.html?em&ex=1205985600&en=06a539b9d149224f&ei=5087%0A
Here's a snippet - regarding Reverend Jeremiah Wright who recently made some incendiary remarks about whites, muslims and race from a black perspective.
"The man (Jeremiah Wright) I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God’s work here on Earth – by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS."
“People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend’s voice up into the rafters….And in that single note – hope! – I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion’s den, Ezekiel’s field of dry bones. Those stories – of survival, and freedom, and hope – became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn’t need to feel shame about…memories that all people might study and cherish – and with which we could start to rebuild.”
"Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety – the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity’s services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.
And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions – the good and the bad – of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.
I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother – a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.
These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love. "
Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.
But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America – to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.
The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we’ve never really worked through – a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.
Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, “The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past.” We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow. "
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/18/us/politics/18text-obama.html?em&ex=1205985600&en=06a539b9d149224f&ei=5087%0A
Here's a snippet - regarding Reverend Jeremiah Wright who recently made some incendiary remarks about whites, muslims and race from a black perspective.
"The man (Jeremiah Wright) I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God’s work here on Earth – by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS."
“People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend’s voice up into the rafters….And in that single note – hope! – I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion’s den, Ezekiel’s field of dry bones. Those stories – of survival, and freedom, and hope – became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn’t need to feel shame about…memories that all people might study and cherish – and with which we could start to rebuild.”
"Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety – the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity’s services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.
And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions – the good and the bad – of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.
I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother – a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.
These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love. "
Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.
But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America – to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.
The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we’ve never really worked through – a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.
Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, “The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past.” We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow. "
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Date: 2008-03-20 02:43 am (UTC)That wasn't in the pages that I read. If it had been I would have related to it differently. And the reason I don't think it could possibly be true is because Obama at this point in his life was between 16-18 years old (it's not clear from the passage). And if this is her regular demeanor as opposed to an irregular event, why is everyone in the family so upset and why does it provoke a crisis in him such that he has to go off and see his mentor.
In fact, in thinking about this today, it struck me that he was from an incredibly sheltered background if this is the first time race impacted him negatively - perhaps that's why he was so shocked. Back in the 1970s, when I was growing up in NYC, everyone was conscious of race. I went to public school and the lines were perfectly clear to everyone. The city was a lot more dangerous then, not at all like today, and there was a lot of anger.
In any case, back to Obama. This is how it is described in the passage I saw: "Her lips pursed with irritation. 'He was very aggressive, Barry. Very aggressive. I gave him a dollar and he kept asking. If the bus hadn't come, I think he might have hit me over the head."
You think she was making this up - or heightening it - merely because the guy was black? According to what is quoted, she felt like the guy was going to hit her over the head. Why is your assumption that she only felt this way because he was black? She could have felt this way AND he was black. You know what it's like, no doubt, to be in the subway late at night or waiting for a bus, when the place is deserted, and to be approached by someone who threatens you. So if the person threatening you is black, and you don't want to go back again the next day at the same time because you fear a repeat of the situation, because you were threatened and you are still anxious, does that make you a racist? Sorry, I don't see it. Anyway, that's how I construed the passage.
Now, if she only felt this way because he was black, and she dealt with white and Asian panhandlers all the time who were equally aggressive, and wasn't worried about them, I'd agree with you.
In any case, his grandmother at this point is approaching 60, if not there yet, so may feel genuinely physically fragile around a threatening male. Here's a picture (http://www.chicagotribune.com/media/photo/2007-03/28585928.jpg) from a while back. She looks tiny compared to him.
I do wonder, however, at why there is such a difference in the account he gave in his book and in his speech. In the book he was explaining his genesis of consciousness about his particular existential situation. In the speech, though, his agenda was to turn the political tide - and there he has something to lose if he doesn't succeed and his grandmother is portrayed worse. Which gives me pause.
I assuming of course that he could have gone - having not read the whole story. Based on that assumption? It still would not have changed anything - she'd have felt safe maybe with him, but still cringed away from the threatening black men.
Boy, the grandmother is really the bad guy in your book. How do you know? If she was so prejudiced, as I said before, it seems to me it would have come across loud and clear before this incident. He describes a one-off situation, not a pattern of behavior.
As for your parents, I wonder they don't change congregations, if they disagree so much with what they are hearing preached at them - or leave before the sermon begins - or, if it's in the middle of the sermon, take a time out and go chat with friends or bring a book or something if it is the only Catholic church in town.
I've changed synagogues when I've disliked what I was hearing. Or decided not to join that particular congregation. Etc. So my experience is different.