The Code of November 4, 20008
Dear Diary,
I just cast my vote exactly two hours ago after waiting in line for an hour. I've been anxious about this day because there is so much significance in today's vote. The process that brought our country to this pivotal moment has made me look critically at where the United States is as a country.
All this time I've thought of myself as an American woman. Then election year rolls around and the candidates vying for votes use these clever little labels that have coded meanings. Hockey Mom. Soccer Mom. Joe the Plumber. And my personal favorite Real Americans.
As I sat and watched this happen this time around, I kept thinking to myself, "Are they referring to me? Am I included in the definition of real America?" Last time I checked, an American is called so either by virtue of being born within the United States or becoming a naturalized citizen. After that, I think the definition is pretty much up in the air.
So what kind of American am I?? I am one born to a family with deep roots in the American South. That family has been there for generations and lived through Jim Crow and the disgraceful culture that predominated for years. Here I am now in 2008, ensconced in my bucolic home that I could purchase and live in because of the struggles of my parents and grandparents.
I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a darn good cook. I am a lawyer. I am a Christian. (That term alone has more definitions than hairs on my head.) I spend my weekends doing laundry, vacuuming, re-reading my favorite Steven King novel, 'Salem's Lot, or playing the piano(horribly). Every so often, I like to try something new like yoga (can't get past downward facing dog) or have a night out with my friends. All in all, I'm pretty boring. I desire pretty typical things. I want great schools for our children, tougher gun laws from cradle to grave, a definitive program to end generational welfare, and intelligent leaders with the authority and ability to exercise wisdom. (I also wouldn't mind getting over my fear of yoga, but that's another blog.)
I shudder at leadership or those vying for my vote who have the temerity to define what a real American is. During this last campaign season, I bristled as the lemmings picked up and ran with these titles. Hockey mom..Joe the Plumber (who, as it turns out is neither a Joe nor a licensed plumber)...Joe Six pack(say what?Lots of bad things happen when people drink six packs.)...Real American(Like Velveeta versus real cheese?)
Are these just terms just a genteel way of speaking to some who may feel more marginalized as the political landscape becomes more diverse? No wonder people find themselves confronting old attitudes about race.
Could you imagine if Barak Obama used coded words to curry favor with constituents? Raheem Forty Ounce...Basketball moms...Juan the Landscaper. (Ewww. OK, I'm offended.) It's just beyond disgusting.
A man with academic accolades out the wazoo (yes, I wrote wazoo) is an elitist and uppity(another code word). Why? Could it be because he is not writing the latest hip-hop jam, making us laugh, in jail, or fathering out of wedlock children? Could it be because he and so many others like him (Bobby Jindal, Paull Shin, Bill Richardson) no longer fit into the neat little stereotypes that not only entertained us, but terrified us as well. (Isn't it good when people pull themselves up by the bootstraps and succeed in spite of rather than fail because of?)
I am a real American. I pay taxes. I vote. I obey the law. I believe the Constitutions is a blessed document which must be respected and not thrown out when it does not benefit an insular population that believes it should have all the power. If certain politicians had the decency to talk with me and not around me, perhaps public perception would be different. After all, my country is called the United States of America and the pledge of allegiance specifies "one nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all."
I just cast my vote exactly two hours ago after waiting in line for an hour. I've been anxious about this day because there is so much significance in today's vote. The process that brought our country to this pivotal moment has made me look critically at where the United States is as a country.
All this time I've thought of myself as an American woman. Then election year rolls around and the candidates vying for votes use these clever little labels that have coded meanings. Hockey Mom. Soccer Mom. Joe the Plumber. And my personal favorite Real Americans.
As I sat and watched this happen this time around, I kept thinking to myself, "Are they referring to me? Am I included in the definition of real America?" Last time I checked, an American is called so either by virtue of being born within the United States or becoming a naturalized citizen. After that, I think the definition is pretty much up in the air.
So what kind of American am I?? I am one born to a family with deep roots in the American South. That family has been there for generations and lived through Jim Crow and the disgraceful culture that predominated for years. Here I am now in 2008, ensconced in my bucolic home that I could purchase and live in because of the struggles of my parents and grandparents.
I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a darn good cook. I am a lawyer. I am a Christian. (That term alone has more definitions than hairs on my head.) I spend my weekends doing laundry, vacuuming, re-reading my favorite Steven King novel, 'Salem's Lot, or playing the piano(horribly). Every so often, I like to try something new like yoga (can't get past downward facing dog) or have a night out with my friends. All in all, I'm pretty boring. I desire pretty typical things. I want great schools for our children, tougher gun laws from cradle to grave, a definitive program to end generational welfare, and intelligent leaders with the authority and ability to exercise wisdom. (I also wouldn't mind getting over my fear of yoga, but that's another blog.)
I shudder at leadership or those vying for my vote who have the temerity to define what a real American is. During this last campaign season, I bristled as the lemmings picked up and ran with these titles. Hockey mom..Joe the Plumber (who, as it turns out is neither a Joe nor a licensed plumber)...Joe Six pack(say what?Lots of bad things happen when people drink six packs.)...Real American(Like Velveeta versus real cheese?)
Are these just terms just a genteel way of speaking to some who may feel more marginalized as the political landscape becomes more diverse? No wonder people find themselves confronting old attitudes about race.
Could you imagine if Barak Obama used coded words to curry favor with constituents? Raheem Forty Ounce...Basketball moms...Juan the Landscaper. (Ewww. OK, I'm offended.) It's just beyond disgusting.
A man with academic accolades out the wazoo (yes, I wrote wazoo) is an elitist and uppity(another code word). Why? Could it be because he is not writing the latest hip-hop jam, making us laugh, in jail, or fathering out of wedlock children? Could it be because he and so many others like him (Bobby Jindal, Paull Shin, Bill Richardson) no longer fit into the neat little stereotypes that not only entertained us, but terrified us as well. (Isn't it good when people pull themselves up by the bootstraps and succeed in spite of rather than fail because of?)
I am a real American. I pay taxes. I vote. I obey the law. I believe the Constitutions is a blessed document which must be respected and not thrown out when it does not benefit an insular population that believes it should have all the power. If certain politicians had the decency to talk with me and not around me, perhaps public perception would be different. After all, my country is called the United States of America and the pledge of allegiance specifies "one nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all."
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