Politics ... Religion ... and Race

In 1970, a week before I was to enter high school, a federal judge ordered the integration of my school district. I was on the "wrong" side of a line on a map, and off I went to a world I had not known before — a world where I was in the minority. So, do I understand the black experience in America? Not a chance. My time in the minority was limited to school. At the end of the day, I headed back to the other side of the railroad tracks (literally) to a white world with white run businesses and white political leadership. I turned on my TV and saw white heroes and black comedians; white coaches and black players. And because that's all I had known, it seemed right.

In the Summer of 1984, I was working for a ministry headed by and (except for me and my wife) run by African Americans. One of the men I worked with would today be called a political moderate. He liked Ronald Reagan without fully trusting him.

That July, the Reverend Jessie Jackson was big news. As the first major black presidential candidate, he had earned his place at the podium of the Democratic National Convention in San Francisco and in prime time. He gave what most observers considered the outstanding speech of the week, maybe the year. For a variety of reasons, my friend didn't quite trust Jesse Jackson either. But when he saw and heard Jessie's speech, saw and heard the crowd's response . . . it did something to him. The next morning, it still moved him to think about it. He said, "I felt like that was family up there."

That's the problem facing Hillary Clinton and the Democratic Party in 2008.

"Family Up There"

For most of 2007, Senator Clinton led Senator Obama in polls of black voters. In November, MSNBC's Mika Brzezinski asked Michelle Obama why Hillary was still ahead. Michelle answered, "First of all, I think that's not gonna hold. I'm completely confident Black America will wake up and get it."

When her husband won lily white Iowa, African-Americans did "get it." Here was one of their own whose appeal crossed racial lines. This wasn't Jesse Jackson. This man could win it all. Exit polls show that he's won heavily among blacks in every contest so far.

For millions of black Democrats, someone who feels like "a member of the family" is running for President, and winning!

Since before the South Carolina primary, Hillary Clinton's campaign team (particularly her husband) has been trying to paint Senator Obama as "the black candidate." Finally, in the last week, video of the Reverend Jeremiah Wright has given some credence to the label. Obama's numbers are falling fast.

Even so, it's a virtual impossibility for Hillary to overtake Obama in "earned" delegates. She has one chance. Something might happen (maybe the Wright scandal if it lasts long enough) that would give her the momentum to convince superdelegates she has the best chance to beat John McCain in the Fall.

Here's the problem. Blacks have been exploited, lied to, and cheated for hundreds of years. It's happened so much, they've come to expect it. When, at long last, someone who feels like "a member of the family" gets this close to winning the presidency, it had better not be snatched away at the last minute by an elite group of mostly white superdelegates. If that happens, the Democratic Party as we have known it since the 1960s, would end this year.

I'm sure it's encouraging to the Clintons to see Obama dropping in national polls over the last few days, but superdelegates aren't stupid. Barring a major Obama meltdown, they have to go with him — not only to have a shot at winning this year, but to preserve the party.

Black Republicans?

Edward Gilbreath (no relation) is a writer for Christianity Today. In his book, Reconciliation Blues, he cites a 2001 Gallup Poll saying 61% of African-Americans call themselves "born again Christians." It's interesting that whites and blacks who carry the same "born again" label, vote so differently. Our ethics and values come from the same place. We have the same holy book and the same Lord. When I talk with black brothers and sisters in Christ, we don't just stand on an island of common ground, but a whole continent. Our political goals are the same. We differ on how to reach the goals, but not as much as you might expect. My vision of an ideal America looks just about the same as my black counterparts'. And we share a real pride in country — not a Pollyanna pride, but a mature understanding of what this country has been, is, and can be.

I admire their loyalty as Democrats, but I think the Republican Party should work hard to convince more of them that there is another possible political home. I believe the country, the African-American community, and both major political parties would be better off. We Republicans need them, and I don't just mean their loyal votes.

Watchers

When Barack Obama says, "Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools," I know from my own life experience that he's telling the truth. At my predominantly black high school, I saw audio-visual equipment that belonged in a museum. Anything that rotated among the schools in those days, came to us last. I'm still a little peeved that the driver's education simulator went to all the other schools, then us. My friends at white high schools all had their licenses while I waited for the simulator to arrive to fulfill that part of my driver's education. So, until late in the year, I had to catch a ride with friends to and from school.

I played basketball (daily proving the old adage that white men can't jump). Since no one else from my neighborhood stayed as late, during the season, a family member had to drive over every evening and pick me up. One night after a game, I called for a ride, then went outside and waited . . . and waited. The coach was the last to leave and he offered to give me a ride, but I assured him someone was on the way and I would be picked up soon. No one came. I should have knocked on a door in the neighborhood and asked for the use of a phone, but, ever bashful, I sat outside the school and continued my wait.

Sometime after ten, a large group of young men came walking down the street. This was the kind of group Barrack Obama's grandmother didn't want to see. Jesse Jackson wouldn't have been too comfortable either. The attitude, the clothes, everything about these guys said, "Danger." A black man in a white neighborhood wouldn't have wanted to face a group of white thugs like these, and I didn't want to face this black group.

In a 1986 essay, Brent Staples said that he whistled classical music tunes when he was out walking so that white pedestrians wouldn't fear him. These guys were definitely not whistling the classics.

But I wasn't the only one who noticed them. Throughout the evening I had had the feeling of being watched — a curtain flickered here or there at various houses. As I stood there wondering what I might be facing, the curtains didn't just flicker. They cracked open and stayed open — house after house, up and down the street.

The gang of boys walked past, but even as they approached, even as they looked me over, looked as if they were wondering if I was worth beating to a pulp, I wasn't afraid. I stopped being afraid when I saw that powers greater than the thugs were watching over me. It was a warm feeling. People I didn't know, with appearances unlike mine, whose culture was in some ways different from mine, were looking out for me.

We're in this together. We need each other. Our immigrant ancestors, both the willing and the stolen, were ultimately chosen for this land by the Sovereign God. He put us here together. He put us here for each other. And He commissions us all to watch over the children.

Posted: 3-21-2008
Note: At original posting, all links were active.