Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Obama - An Intimate Portrait



I’m thinking about buying this book.  After all my downsizing, getting rid of most things that have no ‘functional use’, that sort of feels like a step backward.  On the other hand, his election was a significant event in my lifetime.  I was born in 1952 and, even though the Brown v. Board of Education decision came down in 1954, my entire public school education was predominantly segregated.  Until our family moved back to Orlando from Ocala in the summer of 1968, when I had two years of high school left, I really didn’t know any people of color.  I know there were some black students in some of my classes but my life remained segregated. 


Growing up I was always a Girl Scout (which may be a topic for a future post), and upon returning to Orlando I began looking for a new troop.  The one at my high school was full and not accepting more members so I found a troop that met downtown and included girls from different schools.  At the first meeting I was happy to discover that the troop was a mix of black and white girls – as a matter of fact, there were more black girls than white girls, which I thought was very cool.  But cool was about as much as I thought about it.  I believed we all were happy to be in this troop and that we were all friends.  As a matter of fact, I had my first major disagreement with my family over the girls in this troop.  It went down like this.  My parents had said that I could have a party for my birthday.  I’ve always been an introvert – and a little eccentric – so I hardly had friends in high school except for the girls in my Girl Scout troop.  The only people I wanted to invite to the party were those girls – all of them.  Much to my dismay, my father would not allow that.  I could not have a gathering at our home that included my black friends.  I was flabbergasted and furious!  I don’t remember ever before discussing the issue of race in our family and I had never perceived my parents as overtly racist.  But here it was – in my face.  I remember having an emotional discussion with my father, resulting in my decision not to have a party after all.  It wasn’t worth it to me to have a party under those conditions.  That was my first stand against racism.


Unfortunately, my activism and my understanding of racism did not progress any further for a long time.  I don’t recall having any discussion about this event within my troop.  I think our leaders were progressive to the point that we learned to value each other without regard to race but we did not address the issues in the larger context of society.  In Florida, Girl Scouts just weren’t doing that sort of thing back then – few people were.  But there was another, bigger event that happened before we graduated which I really didn’t understand at the time.  There was a “camporee” that included many troops from the area.  We raised money as a troop and most, if not all, of our members attended.  I know we were the only integrated troop there.  I don’t remember whether there were any all black troops in attendance.  During an assembly of all the Scouts we sang the song Dixie and everyone stood up – everyone except the black girls.  Thinking back on it now, I am mortified!  I really had no idea what was happening.  After that weekend all the black girls in our troop quit.  As far as I can remember, the rest of us never discussed what had happened.  An opportunity for learning, growth, and reconciliation was surely lost.  Obviously, it may not make sense to judge the events of 1969 through the lens of my awareness today but how sorry I am that no one took advantage of that opportunity. 


A few years later, in 1972, I moved to Hawai’i, a place where white people have always been in the minority.  Thanks once again to the Girl Scouts, I began to make connections with some locals and began to learn about the foods, customs, music, and lifestyle of people very different from me.  I loved every minute of it and never looked back.  However, once again, my ignorance was cloaked by my naïveté.   I thought that because I felt no prejudice against people based on their race or ethnicity, (and I was, after all a minority there) I had little responsibility for the devastation of native Hawai’ians or the oppression of other non-white people in Hawai’i.  It took me many years of listening and reading to begin to understand.


I don’t know how I escaped some of the influences of a southern upbringing.  I was always pretty free of the judgements based on race that are persistent in the south.  But I cannot escape the more insidious bits of racism buried deep inside, nor the systemic racism that continues to oppress people of color, nor the benefits afforded me by white privilege.  The more I have come to understand these things, the more I recognize what a huge event it was when we finally elected a black man to the highest office in this country.  Many will say things to try and minimize the importance of that event: “Oh, but he was only half black.”  “Well, he wasn’t raised in a typical African American family environment.”  “Yeah, but he went to a private school.”  But the fact is, in this country, those things make not one whit of difference in how we think about and treat black men.   Barak Obama is a black man in America and as such, all of the effects of the years of oppression conspire against him.  And while white privilege has a significant impact on the lives of people of color, the only ones who can actually do anything about it are white people.  The only thing that could truly override those effects, even for Barak Obama, is when we as a majority white country chose to raise ourselves above the centuries of bigotry and toss off those constraints, at least for a moment; when we put our faith in a man who is brilliant, compassionate, honest, and engaging – a human being that we trusted to have our best interests at heart and to represent us to the world.  To me, that means there is hope.  And that is something.  And in these days when it seems we’re again going backwards, I think I would like to have a visual reminder of where our nation once was, and where it could be again.

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