In 1969, when I was in fifth grade, my parents moved from the West Coast to Columbia, South Carolina. In their infinite wisdom, my parents decided that Columbia’s freshly desegregated public schools were no place for a nice white boy. Instead, they put me in one of the new white-only “Christian” private schools that had sprung up to cater to alarmed white parents.
My first week in class, I made an offhand remark to one of my new classmates that I didn’t understand what the difference was supposed to be between white people and black people — they were all just people. He immediately went to the teacher, who promptly had me stand before the entire class and repeat the comment – not to educate them, but to publicly humiliate me for my profound ignorance concerning the inferiority of n****rs.
We’re about to elect an African-American to become President of the United States.
In 1982, my new wife and I moved to Houston, Texas, where she wanted to go to graduate school. I was white, and she was not, a marital arrangement that until fairly recently had not been legal in Texas (or most other Southern states). In Houston, fourth largest city in the country, there were (and probably still are) places that would not serve us.
We’re about to elect an African-American to become President of the United States.
Seattle is different. But not very. In the late ’90s there was a rash of killings of unarmed black men by SPD, and the African-American community was in an uproar. The NAACP, Urban League, and other black moderates joined in the call for meaningful civilian review of police actions. I wrote columns for Seattle Weekly echoing that call. The explicitly racist letters that came in response should not have been surprising.
We’re about to elect an African-American to become President of the United States.
My memories are not remarkable; they’re snapshots of a reality tens of millions of people continue to experience in America each day. A colorblind society would be great. We’re not there yet. Like most of my African-American friends, I have a hard time believing this is happening; but I’m sure glad it is. Whatever one thinks of Obama’s policies — and as I noted yesterday, I’m not thrilled by them — this election will go a long way toward reestablishing America’s moral credibility in the eyes of the world. Race does matter, here and elsewhere. So does class. And Obama is correct to note that his inspiring, improbable story is only possible in America.
Unlike 2000 or 2004, this year I’m proud of the American electorate — and it has nothing to do with ideology.
Tonight, regardless of what’s going on in the other races you care about, take a moment to witness history. This is an election that will be taught in civics textbooks for a long, long time.
Remember early on in the campaign, when white pundits were fretting that Obama might not be “black enough” to attract the black vote? Non-white pundits knew better. Beyond being secure in the knowledge that Obama’s white opponents would make damned sure everyone was aware that Obama was The Other (as John McCain and Sarah Palin have predictably done), they also knew that if he got this far, his African-American support would be near-universal. Not because of his policies or the tactics of the McCains of the world, or even solidarity with Obama’s skin color, so much as the future possibilities for those voters’ children, and their skin color.
In the comment thread of another blog a couple of weeks ago, a commenter offered what I think captures the phenomenon of Obama’s (probable) triumph nicely:
Rosa sat, so Martin could march.
Martin marched, so Barack could run.
Barack ran, so our children could fly.





