On Revolutionaries and Politicians

I was just reading myself some Racialicious, and there was an article that referenced people's disappointment in Obama's lack of obvious measures to help African-Americans. Now, this is nothing new, but it again made me think on something I've been meaning to write about for a long time (but just never seemed to get to).

This is the difference between revolutionaries and politicians.

In brief, a revolutionary is somebody who - through passionate, radical action - sparks drastic change. Most often, we associate revolutionaries with war, of course (because they are generally catalysts for revolution, hence the word). But revolutionaries aren't always fighters. They can be present in times of martial peace. Because, to me - revolutionaries are folks who spark change through non-political means. Revolutionaries can be people like the American Civil Rights leaders of the 60s, who sparked change through non-compliance with racist laws. They can be folks who spark grassroots movements to change systems that governing bodies can't or won't change.

Politicians, on the other hand, work through government. These are literal politicians who run for elected office, but they can also be lobbyists and other folks who drive their desires through the hoops and bureaucracy that is the government machine. These people also bring about change, but more subtly. They work through compromise and diplomacy, and an attempt to establish a middle ground.

Both sides can bring about just change. Both sides can bring about destruction and injustice. They just have different mentalities and methods in doing so.

And the big problem people already disappointed by Obama have is that they mistook him for a revolutionary. His charisma and speaking ability conveyed passion to his listeners, and they mistook their own inspired passion as that of revolution. His historic rise to the White House was a symbol of change that people mistook for a step towards revolution. These folks got caught up in the wave and thought they had voted a revolutionary into the White House. And now - as they start to realize that sweeping reforms are not forthcoming, they are disappointed.

But the key here is that they voted Obama into office. Revolutionaries do not get voted in (until after their side of the revolution has prevailed, at least). Revolutionaries put themselves into power. Through acts of war or a passionate motivation of the people. Obama got the vote.

And, to do so, he had to be a politician. He didn't stomp and call out all the ills of this country. He didn't condemn its sick history. He didn't demand justice. He ran the middle ground. He noted this country's past, then said how great it had become. He called out his predecessor's mistakes, but never said he'd pull our armies out of foreign lands. He made use of his mixed heritage to say how white folks and black folks and everyone else walk the same road, more or less. He compromised. Because that's what you do, as a politician. That's how you get elected. That's how you bring about slow and steady change within our governmental system, and within the parameters of the law (just or otherwise).

And he's not going to stop being a politician now that he's in. He's part of the machine - there's no override switch once you're in. And so you will NOT see Obama suddenly call attention to race and disparities in this country - because a politician can't do that and survive.

Although, neither can a revolutionary.

The photo above is of Patrice Lumumba, the first elected Prime Minister of the Democratic Republic of Congo. He served that role for less than a year before he was murdered (with Belgian and US CIA complicity). His newly-independent country fell into chaos at around the same time (more or less as he got himself elected), and it has probably been one of the most war-torn, historically, nations in all the world since.

And the question is: how did that happen? Because it's widely accepted that Lumumba was an amazing man. Passionate, brilliant, and - most importantly for a revolutionary - charismatic. His fire and determination fueled his country's fight for independence from Belgian -and helped them prevail. He sparked drastic change. His vision for the future inspired other African nations to fight for their own independence and to try to work together to rebuild.

And yet - as his government tried to settle in, he already had his army mutinying, and multiple rivals tearing the people apart. The UN swept in, the CIA chose their best interests, and Lumumba was murdered. And the country hasn't seen real hope since.

And that's the problem with revolutionaries - they are not about compromise. And so, as they are inspiring people to their cause, they also end up burning bridges. They are also about passion and big ideas - and government has no time for big ideas when all the little things need taking care of. Revolutionaries are two-to-three steps ahead of reality, and they often pay for that. Because revolutionaries do not make good politicians. Once the drastic change has come, most revolutionaries are unable to settle into the nitty-gritty daily grind of simply running things.

And so? Both are necessary. We need the revolutionaries to challenge the status quo and kick people into tearing down accepted injustices. But we need the politicians to calm things down and keep people fed and employed. To keep the water running and the utilities covered. We need revolutionaries to think big and outside of the box. And we need the politicians to work within the box to steadily enlarge it.

It's hard to accept, sometimes. Because politicians often seem to end up so soulless in their roles of compromisers. Constantly pandering to their public and trying to keep the most powerful interests happy. We love the revolutionaries because they're so inspiring and make such a good story. So many of them end up dying at the height of their glory - making it easy to turn them into heroes. But, to put it in more day-to-day terms: it's the politicians that keep the family fed and the electricity running.

I often find myself wondering which side I tend towards. I definitely lean to the revolutionary in terms of my "big ideas" and demand for "justice." It's so easy for me to see all that's wrong with society and condemn it. And in doing so, I often jump right past realistic modes of change. However, I also find myself playing the slow-and-steady middle ground quite often. I try not to attack my opponents, try to slowly bring them over to my side. But I have no patience for the steady grind and day-to-day management of "the little things."

So which way do I turn? What will be my legacy when I look back on my small fight for change in the world? Am I going to be the bread-winner and take care of the kids' daily needs, or am I going to dream big and risk them going hungry (with the possibility of making it big and bringing back that huge paycheck)? The revolutionaries earn our acclaim (or hatred) while the politicians earn our contempt (or disappointment). Who do I want to be?

Obama? Or Lumumba? Or is there a somewhere-in-between?

Positive for Just One More Day

I get plenty of opportunities to complain about all that's wrong with this country and society, etc. on this blog, but I'd like to just keep the positive feelings going for one more day.

I started my morning watching all the clips of the Obamas' inaugural evening - all their balls and dances and mini-speeches. And I have to say, outside of all the other great things about this man (and his family) moving into the White House, is the fact that he and his wife actually seem to like each other. Maybe even - Heaven forbid - love each other. All the times she'd lean in and whisper something in his ear, him laughing softly about it - that's what couples are supposed to do.

And, really - when was the last time you saw a presidential couple act like that? When was the last time the President and his wife looked like anything other than a marriage of convenience? Seriously?

And then the man does the bump on the dance floor . . . Do I really have to say anything else about that?

So, full of these positive little feelings about the new first family and what it symbolizes, I headed to school to start a new term. Due to the nature of our school (and the transience of our population), we get new students every term, and this one was no different.

So we're in my third period math class, doing class introductions, going over my classroom expectations and what-not, and I look over to one of the new students (a Somalian girl) sitting off to my left. She's furiously scribbling something on a piece of paper with a big grin on her face, and I can't help but wonder what she's up to.

And then she holds up her sign, with the most blissful and proud look on her face. The sign? It reads, "My President is BLACK!"

She sees me read it, and I look at her. We catch eyes, she gives me a big grin, and I couldn't help but laugh and smile a big-ass goofy smile.

This is a student that I just met this morning. One who came to my school because things weren't working out in her previous public school. Who had regular problems with her teachers, has plenty of reason to be angry and sad and distrustful. And we got to share this on her first day.

You'll be damn sure I'll never forget it, either.

"I Barack Hussein Obama, do solemnly swear . . ."

His name, his skin-color - that was too cool . . .

Although I've got to say all the cannon-fire right after his oath had me cringing.

On the Unexplainable

I wish I could share this feeling with everyone. This blissful, giddily-surprised, calming, uplifting feeling. Hundreds of pounds of baggage have been lifted from my shoulders, and I get to raise my head from the burden and just look UP again. It's like I've been knocked back to childhood - looking at the world through new, shining eyes.

The world changed yesterday. It did.

Everything I did was new. As I drove to work - 'I'm driving to work, and we just elected a black president.' I ate breakfast - 'I'm eating and we just elected a black president.' Talking to my students - 'I'm teaching math after we elected a black president.' EVERYTHING is NEW.

Because I never truly believed this day would come. And so EARLY in my lifetime. So monumental that I even had flashes of - maybe I could run for PRESIDENT!!! - like a giddy kid. Because that had never been a true possibility before. And maybe I will run for President. Because this country just showed me that it could happen.

And as I walked around with my giddy smile, I wanted to find every single person of color in this city and just look at their eyes. To share this glow and emotion. To have a wordless exchange of pure joy on such a scale that I'll never feel again - and SHARE THE EXACT SAME FEELING with another soul (or more).

I tried to share it with white folks. I did. But it didn't work. Because this amazing moment is for us - people of color. I don't minimize the part of all the white voters (who I suddenly have so much more faith in than I ever had before), but white folks just can't FEEL this. As I told my co-workers, "Today is the only time that it kind of sucks to be white in this country - because you can't feel THIS" (as I tapped my chest). And in spite of arguments to the contrary, it's absolutely true. Because, without all the weight and baggage of race in this country, white folks can't fully feel the power of having a load of that knocked off.

And I kind of feel bad about that. Because I really DO want to share it with everybody. My teaching assistant came in, and as I explained to her how I had no intention of teaching anything real because of the moment, she said, "Cool, I totally understand."

And then when I started talking about how I hadn't been able to sleep and how shaky I was, etc. she asked, "Why?" And I wanted to scream. "WHY!!??? We just elected a f-ing BLACK PRESIDENT, that's why!!!! Suddenly this country has invited all people of color to be a real part of this nation!!! There's a guy that's moving to the Oval Office that actually gives a sh-- and KNOWS what it's like to be another color!!!!! Are you kidding me!??"

And it's simultaneously crazy and sad and kind of gratifying that not everyone gets to touch this feeling. It's like all my payments to the "being a person of color in America fund" got reimbursed in one fell swoop, and I honestly think I'll be a little high for the next month or so. Maybe longer.

And it felt even BETTER to share this with my one co-worker of color. We just looked at each other and KNEW that we were in the same place. We both had raw, post-teary eyes. We both couldn't stop smiling. We both had shaky hands. And we both were looking at the world from a brand-new set of eyes. And we got to share it.

And from that, I suddenly feel this familial, happy bond with ALL people of color (even worldwide, really). We're all getting to share in something so wonderful - and it's just for us. Not to say white folks aren't happy, and don't understand it to some level, but this FEELING - it's just ours. It's a little bit of a refund for all that we've had to shoulder.

And the smiles I get when I think about those who lived through and participated in the Civil Rights movements of the 60s? There's must be a level of bliss that can be matched by nothing less than Heaven, itself (and even THAT might not match it).

So I thank you, America. All of you - no matter who you voted for. Because, in the end, you gave me (and so many others) a gift that defies explanation and comprehension. I really don't think anything else earthly can match this, and I say that with no exaggeration.

Thank you for this new world. I promise I won't ever take it for granted.

No Title Necessary

What's there to be said? Last night, when I heard the results, I went numb. I wouldn't believe them. I was convinced that the exit polls were completely inaccurate, that people were lying. I thought I'd wake up this morning to see that this was another "Dewey Defeats Truman" . . .

5am. There will be no more sleep for me. I've been all weepy and emotional as I surf the web reading the same story over and over - Obama really won. I don't cry about anything at all (even when I should), but these "tears of joy" things are really some kind of wonderful.

I've never felt like this before. Hope, shock, giddiness, pride, strength. It's so overwhelming, I don't even know what to do with myself.

I would like to have taken today off of work, but I'm also so damn excited to see the look in the eyes of my kids of color when they walk into the building this morning - their world just changed, and now I can look them in the eyes and tell them, "You could be the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES" - because these tears are for them, and the possibilities and hope that they can now have that no kid of color has ever had before.

And, sure, sweeping policy changes are unrealistic (and unlikely). I don't know if things are going to look all that different from a street-level view. But that actually doesn't matter much - because it's just the POSSIBILITY that matters. That this really CAN be a country for people of all races.

Nothing more to be said - THIS is the f-ing FIRST FAMILY, BABY!!!! -

On an Historic Occasion or Footnote

Who's that random white guy in the painting? It looks kind of old-timey - maybe he was a general or something. Doesn't look like a president . . .

That's Aaron Burr. He was the Vice President a long time ago. Seemed in line to be the President. But why do most people recognize that name? Because he got in a duel and shot Alexander Hamilton. Needless to say, he never was President.

Tomorrow morning, Barack Obama will either be a symbol of an historic landmark, or just an interesting side-note to tell kids in forty years, "I remember when a black man looked like he could become the PRESIDENT."

And that's why my tv is off. It's why I refuse to use the internet past this posting. Because I'm terrified. Tomorrow will either be the beginning of a new world for me - one in which the lack of faith I have in America (and white America, specifically) will be proven unworthy; or a depressing proof of what I currently believe - that this country is not for non-white folks, and that my vote will never count.

Those are the options - as extreme as they could get. Sure, I didn't want Bush to win the election last time, but it didn't alter my world. Kerry was just another white guy who did not represent me in any sort of way. He didn't give me any sense of hope. He just hadn't proven himself to be as much of an ass as the other guy. But this - this is different. I never believed I would see a person of color be the president of the United States in my lifetime, let alone this early in my lifetime.

I've written on this before, so there's no need to continue, but I have never consciously faced such a pivotal moment in history before. September 11 was huge, but I did not see it coming - there was no anticipation. We all stand on the edge of a precipice - looking at despair or a New Dawn - and there's nothing left to do but wait and see which one it is. And that's terrifying.

This is like Christmas Eve (for a little American Christian kid) wrapped in with the "last mile" of an inmate on death row: tomorrow morning awaits that shiny bike I've always wanted but thought I'd never get, or Santa's going to be waiting with a butcher's knife. Seriously, it's like that.

And so now I kill my internet, to attempt to fall into the blissfully unaware throes of musical creation, so I don't think about what tomorrow may bring . . .

On Making History

Barack Obama is the Democrat Presidential Nominee. Historical, for sure. I don't really have anything to add to the enormous amount of press about that. So I will go in a different direction:

Is that enough?

Is it? To me, it isn't. Sure, it's pretty mind-blowing that Obama got the Democratic ticket. I didn't even really think he was going to win that (due to my distrust of the voters of America - and not just the white ones). I thought that, by default, Hillary Clinton was going to get that nomination because, at least, she was white. That was the theory.

So it really gave me some hope to see that Obama was still able to get the nomination. Of course, for me, that's not quite enough. Because, first, I feel like he may only have been able to win the ticket because his strongest opponent was a woman. And I'm not saying that in terms of "women aren't capable" - but I'm saying that in terms of history. The Democrat bigots had a choice - "where is our rich white man?" He wasn't there. And so, they had no choice but to make history with their votes - wherever they went. I'm not going to play the Oppression Olympics - I'm not going to try to decide if sexism or racism is 'worse' in our society - but I just don't know what would have happened had Obama's opponent been a white man. Clinton confused the "liberal" bigots just enough, so that race wasn't as big of a deal in the primary. Just enough.

More than enough?

Either way, though - shouldn't I just be excited about what Obama's nomination (no matter his opponent, etc.) means to this country? To people of color? To mixed people of color? There's finally somebody on the presidential ticket that seems to represent me (at least somewhat) in a real sort of way, and here I am picking holes in it. I just sit here, too terrified to let myself get really excited. Trying to battle down the hope that continuously rises inside me about the prospect.

Because, for me, this isn't enough. It isn't. I don't want to see Obama get THIS CLOSE without getting all the way. Because, for me and a lot of the world, that's just going to say, "See? A person of color can't REALLY be the President." It tells the Democratic Party - "See? It doesn't matter how strong or charismatic a leader a black candidate is, they can't REALLY win the Presidency." And then, I fear, we won't see another viable candidate of color for the next 50 years. Because this would prove that this country really isn't ready for a non-white president.

Why? Because people are so ready for a change. Republicans are getting tired of their party. McCain is crazy and has pissed a lot of people off. People are showing up in record numbers. More and more people are registering to vote. The tide of potential change - and clamor for change - is rising high. And so, if - in spite of all this - Obama doesn't win, it will give us the answer we all fear: that this election really IS about race - and racism and stereotypes and prejudice are still so strong that we can't punch through.

So damn negative and defeatist, aren't I? A perfect demonstration of how burdensome the spectre of race is in this country. Getting weighed down by all the media white-washing, the racial slurs, the ignorant comments, the B.S. claims laid by white liberals, white privilege in all its forms, so often being the only person of my skin-tone in a room . . . It's beaten me down enough that I don't WANT hope. That I just assume that it can never be and don't want to put myself in a position of hope, to raise myself high enough to get swatted again.

Because - what if OBama won? What if it turned out that there WAS hope? That we could show ourselves and the international community who REALLY lives in the U.S.? What if I could turn on the tv and see a report on the first family of this country - and they WEREN'T white? If, suddenly, I had more in common with the president because of his mix-raced background and experiences than the Bush dynasty had with the president? What if?

I can't even begin to fathom what that would all mean. The hope it would give the kids I work with. The powerful force of TRUTH it would convey to statements to youth of color that "you can do/be ANYTHING you want." And the inspiration and motivation it would bring to people of color in this country working for change - because it would prove all of us beat-down negative naysayers (like me) wrong. And all I want - so badly - is to be proven wrong in my beliefs about race in this country.

So I'm terrified. And excited. And terrified again. I don't know how I'm going to be able to survive the next two months in the lead-up to the election. I don't know how I'm going to be able to control my anxiety and confusion. I don't know how I'm going to act like it's all good and I'm not so worried when this election means EVERYTHING . . .

I don't know.

All I know is that I hope that there's a smiling photo to go with my post on November 4th. And that I'm scared to hope that.

On the Right to Claim One's Own Identity

It seems appropriate that I found the picture for this post on a police site in reference to "identity theft." Obviously, they meant it in terms of fraudulently using another person's information to steal, whereas this post is about race - but is there really that much difference in how people see it?

As a bi-racial person that walks in the "gray area" between races, I have elected to choose how I identify myself, racially, based on my various experiences and how my life has played out as a result of those experiences. On a general level, I call myself, simply "mixed." Being more specific, I will tell people I am "bi-racial, with a white dad and Chinese mother." If really pressed on the issue to decide my final word on my racial identity: I am a mixed-race Asian-American.

Just to clarify - that last "identity" I wrote up there? That's one thing. It's a specific racial experience. The "mixed" part of it speaks to my physical ambiguity and the subsequent variations in racial treatment I have received from others. The "Asian-American" part of it speaks to my specific cultural connection to my Chinese side (and my subsequent "priority" of representing and bringing up Asian-Americans in this country). Put it together, and that's what I am.

Because, of course, neither one on its own fully speaks to who I am/what my experience has been. I'm mixed/bi-racial, but so is Barack Obama, and I would hesitate to say that we share a whole lot in terms of racial experiences. Sure, we could probably have a nice chat about the "gray area" and all that, but there would be a huge piece lacking for both of us in that conversation. And that's where the included "Asian-American" aspect comes in. Because that's what changes the experience from a generalized "mixed" blanket (which is so very wide) to my more specific situation.

And there have been debates upon debates in the media and elsewhere about this: is Obama "black" or "bi-racial"? All I can say to this is - obviously, all the people having this "debate" (I'd argue that it's pretty one-sided by both parties) are no mixed or bi-racial. Because there is no debate at all - he's a bi-racial black man. Period.

This "one or the other" crap is so decidedly mono-racial and close-minded. It again illustrates how hard it is for people to believe in or trust an experience different from their own. Mono-racial white folks think that this claim denigrates Obama's white mother. Mono-racial black folks think his claims to bi-raciality are "selling out." As a result, both sides mistrust his "intentions" in the claims he makes. All I can say to those folks is: yours is not the only racial experience. There is so much more out there that you have no clue about, and I respectfully ask you to open your eyes and mind to other possibilities.

Because Obama has clearly paid respect to his white side. And he has equally made clear that he is aware - personally - of the black experience and means to do something about that. It's not one or the other. It's both. That's the beauty of those of us in the middle - we have no need to "play sides" or "have it both ways" because we can't. We're equally of both sides and fully neither at the same time.

It never fails to blow my mind how often mono-racial people (of any race) like to try to tell me how I should identify. Those very same anti-racists that would tell others never to assume or pretend that they "know" what another racial experience is like are the same ones who - often - tell me "what I am." Nobody wants to claim us mixed folks until it's convenient - and to that, I say, "back off."*

Now, am I arguing that anybody can choose to identify themselves however they want, racially? Hell no. I had a conversation with a white friend once, and he asked me how I thought of myself, racially, so I replied, "Well, I definitely don't consider myself 'white.'" To that he responded, "I totally know what you mean - I don't consider myself white, either." Record-scratch - WHAT!!!???

If you're white, you're white. I don't care how many different "mixes" of European ancestry you have - you're still "white." If you live and breathe white privilege, it's not okay to take that privilege one step further to try to take on a different race. There is white culture, and just because it's not "exotic" enough for some people doesn't give them a right to steal other ones.

Whoo! And that general rule applies to everybody else - if an ethnicity isn't in your blood, then you can't claim it. I've been thought to be Latino many times - but I sure as Hell wouldn't claim to be Latino, even if that was the majority of my experience. I blend in with native Hawaiians and some Native American tribes more so than my actual racial precursors, but that doesn't make it mine.

So - racial claims must be rooted in blood and experience. It is an insult to all people of color to think it works otherwise. Stealing is no way to respect another way of being.

And so we bring it back full-circle to the issue of identity theft - in short, if it's not yours, don't claim it. If you have to make a circuitous argument to back a racial claim, then - likely - it's not yours to claim. As for us mixed folks - as our mixed-blood dictates, we are a combination of racial experiences, so let's just put an end to non-mixed claims to the contrary right now, okay?

Okay. Thanks.

* I'd actually use more choice words, but I'm feeling "teacherly" right now and don't feel that swearing is appropriate.