My Obama

From this week’s “Lest We Forget” Column published bimonthly in the South Seattle Beacon:

Our culture’s endangered species and my Barack Obama

By SABLE VERITY

When I became pregnant with my second child and found out that it would be a boy, I turned to the mothers in my life for advice, like my sister Felicia and my Aunt Sunni (soo-nee) – both mothers to boys. I wasn’t prepared for what I was told.

“I cried for days when I found out it was going to be a boy,” Felicia said.

I didn’t understand at first- was she set on a girl?

When I asked what upset her so deeply, she pointed to the world around us, and how Black boys and Black men have fared in it.

“I knew how hard it was going to be for him, no matter what [her husband] and I do as parents,” she explained.

My heart sank.

The two of them are college graduates from our very own University of Washington with strong values, who live their lives responsibly with the best interests of their children. Yet Felicia was telling me what I knew to be true, but somehow had managed to ignore up to that point of my pregnancy; despite the strongest upbringing, racial ignorance can be stronger and more influential to one’s life path.

My Aunt Sunni took it one traumatic step further when I turned to her, a mother of five outstanding young men.

“Black men are an endangered species in our society,” she said over tea.

In too many areas – whether education, mortality rate, academic success or career achievements – the statistics about black men, and by relation black boys, are poor, and usually disproportionately poor: over represented in the negative, under represented in the positive.

My own mother, who raised two boys herself also, shared with me the struggles of advocating for black boys through their childhood against racial stereotypes, institutionalized racism and racial hatred.

Who is the black man in America and what defines him?

Is he a gang-banging, drug-dealing freeloading good-for-nothing?

Is he the guy on MTV with all the “bling,” or the professional athlete with horrible sportsmanship, devoid of self-respect?

Is he the high school drop out, the “baby daddy,” or the guy living off of our tax dollars in prison?

Couldn’t he instead be the top of his class? A volunteer in his community? A doctor, lawyer, or a small or large business owner?

A loving father and husband? A supportive friend, brother and/or son?

Couldn’t he be a professor, a scientist, an astronaut?

Couldn’t he be the President of the United States?

When it became clear that Obama was a viable candidate for president of the United States, the question was raised, “Is he Black enough”? After all, he was leaps and bounds apart from the shallow stereotypes we have all grown to know so well.

When I look at our president, I think of my son – my own little Barack Obama – living his young life undefined by racial ignorance, proud of who he is.

It’s been almost nine years since my son came into the world, and I now know from experience the challenges that face him. Too often he is judged by the color of his skin instead of the content of his character, and what a character he is.

His favorite singers, he announced to me the other day, are the Dixie Chicks. His favorite television show is Mythbusters on the Discovery Channel and he enjoys reading and building DNA strands in his spare time. His sport of choice is Kendo – yes, Japanese sword fighting. He is a great student and an insatiable learner.

His “favorite person” outside of anyone in the family, the person he most looks up to, and identifies with the most is the President of the United States, Barack Obama.

He bought a biography about Obama and spent the next week walking around reading excerpts of accounts of his life, or speeches Obama has given, the latter of which gave me goose bumps each time.

I was quizzed routinely during the election about McCain’s and Obama’s positions on war, the environment, children’s safety laws, immigration and other issues.

My son watched Obama’s nomination, was present when I voted, and watched on election night as Obama was declared the next President. On Tuesday, Jan. 20, we sat together and watched as Barack Obama was sworn in as our nation’s 44th President, something I never thought I would see in my lifetime, nor was I sure my children would see in theirs.

What the world witnessed on inauguration day – the day after we observed the birthday of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. – was the culmination of a man judged for his character, not the color of his skin.

Obama is not an enigma or one-of-a-kind rare gem that we will not find again. I know a lot of Barack Obamas, young and old, and I thought of each of them yesterday as the President-Elect became simply the President.

Did we see the end of racism and prejudice as we know it?

No. We have yet to arrive at the Promised Land, but we are ever closer to the Mountaintop.

Dedicated to my daughter, with love.

Sable Verity may be reached via editor@southseattlebeacon.