OBAMA!!!!

From August 18th, 2008

“So what do you think of Barack Obama?” It’s the daily question for me, these days whether I’m at the YMCA, over lunch, at screenings, visiting my Dad and for those who need a little courage, in happy hour settings after a libation or two.

Some of the questioners are Black California transplants. In diverse settings, they ask the question in a stealth manner with an assuredness and a sly smile that says they already know my answer. If faces could wink, theirs would blink and say, “We’ve got a secret.” Quiet optimism is their calling card.

Surprisingly, in the South, where I’m from and have spent the majority of my life, my Black friend’s questions and reactions are very much the same as the California Blacks, with the exception of the execution. They ask the question in much lower voices, almost a whisper. They do not want to be overheard. If Whites are present, a verbal discussion is foregone and replaced with stealth, unspoken communication through the eyes.

Many of my questioners are Whites eagerly seeking me out to answer the hot button question of this year, “Thom, what do you think of Obama?”

I’ve always tried to be approachable on the subject of “race” and “ethnicity.” Reasonable is the word my white friends would use to describe me. Translation: I’m not quick to pull the gun of racism from my holster, simply because you express your opinion.

What has become more interesting to me than the question itself is the divide between my white friends in California and those in my home state of Alabama and Northwest Florida where I reside.

With the whites the great divide of red states and blue states is evident. In Los Angeles, discussion of and support for Obama is aggressive. The enthusiastic questioner asks and answers in the same breath, conducting his or her own discussion while I standby. Others will flash their Obama T-shirts at me. “I’m cool,” is the inference.

I must admit it takes some getting used to, hearing the glee in their loud voices as they proclaim their love and support for this bi-racial man who wants to take the U.S. in a different direction from whence we have come the last eight years.

Many of these whites are both angry with George Bush and proud of themselves that they can express their positive opinions of “a man of color.”

In Los Angeles, I encounter few Obama non-supporters. The ones I have wear the “chip on their shoulder” that comes with being in the minority. It makes you angry when no one wants to hear your opinion, because it’s unpopular.

In Alabama, among my white friends, the question is asked in an almost whisper and there’s genuine interest in my answer. On election night, Alabama is one of those states that will be declared for McCain right after lunch. For my white friends who are for Obama, reassurance means they are “doing the right thing, based on their beliefs.” Still doing the right thing has to be tempered with a secrecy of quiet, almost undercover public discussions with the obligatory look over the head to make sure no one is listening. Loud support, T-shirts and yard signs are for the flakes, the untouchable rich, the intelligentsia and the intelligent poor. Belonging to the club is still a life priority.

Some will tell me “I still haven’t made up my mind.” I shrug, don’t push further. The depth of friendship means I know they have made up their mind but are not comfortable talking to me about it, which I respect. A discussion of the issues and positions won’t change any minds. There’s a darker issue at hand here.

Northwest Florida is still Bush Country with the exception of a minority of vocal Democrats and Independents who refused to join the white flight migration to the Republican Party in the 1980’s. Heated and vocal arguments between my Democrat and “conservative” friends always end with both holding firmly to their position.

Still, after eight years many of the Bush supporters are quietly pissed that they and he got it so wrong. But that admission is shared solely between them and those like them. In these cases, we avoid politics unless courage can be found at the bottom of a bottle. Avoidance makes for better friendships. When we find ourselves heading down the divided road of politics we quickly leave it alone. Those conversations generally end with one of them declaring, ”I’m not for either of them.”

“Right,” I nod.