A
couple weeks ago, I started reading Obama’s Dreams
from My Father, a frank, powerful memoir in which Obama delves into his
identity and race. I followed the now well-known steps of his journey from his
childhood upbringing in Hawaii and Indonesia, raised by his white grandparents
and mother, to his somewhat turbulent college journey, to his position as a
community organizer in Chicago. Throughout the book, I was struck by his candor
and uncertainty as to where to put himself as a black American. He talks about
a friend calling him out on “sucking up” and “acting white” to get favors from
teachers. He gravely muses on the situation of boys in the South Side, thinking
about the statement that “black boys are not safe anywhere in America.” He’s
candid but not disparaging, not too inflammatory or blame-y towards
whites—though of course there’s plenty of fodder there.
Reading
this book now, in the seventh year of his presidency, is very bittersweet
because I can compare his ideals to the events of his presidency. And the
question is: What has Obama done for black people? Let’s be real: He wouldn’t
have been elected in 2008 without the completely solid support of the black
community. He lost the biggest base of voters among—can you guess?—white males.
He was historic. I have seen magazine
pictures of him framed and put up in a number of black homes. To liberal
whites, he may have harkened an exciting feeling of a “post-racial America,”
but to the colored people who know better, he represented a step forward in
moving towards racial equality.
Obama’s
been a part of some very historic stuff. Obamacare, his politically exhaustive
undertaking, pushed through and looks like it’s here to stay. He got us out of
a terrible recession. He repealed DOMA. He killed Bin Laden. Okay, okay, yeah,
but what did he do for black people?
I
remember this speech
in 2013 to Morehouse College grads, preaching the grads to “not make excuses….Nobody
cares if you’ve gone through discrimination.” This tough-love, picking yourself
by your bootstraps speech wasn’t well-received. During his early presidency, he
was also remembered for the remark advising “Brothers should pull up their
pants.” Recently, during the issue of striking back against state laws that
might make voting more restrictive and disproportionately affect black voters,
Obama called it politically infeasible.
My own
heartache, though, is more fundamental than what he could have done in policy. I
wonder what he could have said. These last couple of years have been
particularly volatile with Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Freddie Gray, Tamir
Rice, and the death or subjugation of countless other black lives.
#Blacklivesmatter has swept the country. Obama gave speeches condemning the
violence after each instance. But could he have pulled this together, could he
have supported the #blacklivesmatter movement, could he have engaged white
mainstream America on a discussion of how racism manifests itself today?
I know
I’m putting the burden of representation on him, but I too know the reality of
bearing the cross as a cultural ambassador. So does every other person of color
in the United States. I’m tired. After teaching at a K-8 charter school in
Brooklyn, I’m tired because I know those kids start internalizing messages
about their color before they reach third grade. I’m tired because I know they
feel like black lives don’t matter to most of America. I’m tired because a name
like “Shaniqua” is mocked—though why is it any less legitimate of a name than
“Shoshanna?” I’m tired because, even knowing what I do, I still sometimes catch
myself in my own prejudices.
The
burden’s on everyone, I know. It’s not just on Obama. But…just but.
This being
said, he seems to be getting a little more “real.” He started last year with
the “My Brother’s Keeper” initiative, which focuses on programs to help young
men of color. He’s speaking out and attempting to pass through a criminal
justice reform bill. He let his “anger translator” speak
for him at a White House correspondent’s dinner. He even gave Kanye West some key advice about running
president, with an amazing final line: “Do you really think this country’s
gonna elect a black guy from the South Side of Chicago with a funny name as
president of the United States? That is crazy. That is cray.”
That
line was so amazing because it addressed the stereotypes, it emphasized the
struggle, it brought hope with a little sarcasm and a smile and a little urban
dictionary. Here’s to hoping he keeps keeping it real.
