Notes on race in America: political, social, and personal
It was in 1944 that Gunnar Myrdal came out with his famous book, An American Dilemma. Its subtitle was “The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy.” Race is America’s sorest, stickiest subject. So let’s get sore and sticky for a minute.
Many people say that Kamala Harris is a “DEI hire.” (“DEI” stands for “diversity, equity, and inclusion.”) In a previous time, I suppose, we would have said “affirmative-action hire.”
True, Joe Biden wanted to choose a black woman as his running mate in 2020. This was not mere “social justice,” to use a problematic term; it was electoral calculation. (Nothin’ wrong with that in politics.)
Personally, I hoped that Biden would choose Val Demings, who was then a congresswoman (from Florida). I think I liked that she had been a police officer and chief of police.
Anyway, Biden chose Senator Harris — who is now their party’s nominee for president.
If I had my way, there would be no race-consciousness in America, or in the world. If I had my way, there would be no poverty, sickness, or unattractive prom dates.
But Papa don’t get his way.
There are about eleven people left in America who favor “colorblindness.” We would not need more than two or three booths at Denny’s. By misguided or devious people, colorblindness is portrayed as naïveté about race and racism. It is even portrayed as malice.
Listen to Al Gore, speaking to the NAACP during the 2000 presidential cycle: “I’ve heard the critics of affirmative action. They talk about a colorblind society. Give me a break! Hel-lo? They use their ‘colorblind’ the way duck hunters use their duck blind: They hide behind it and hope the ducks won’t figure out what they’re up to.”
An accomplished demagogue, Gore was (not to be distinguished from many another top politician, granted).
In truth, colorblindness is a principle and ideal (both): We don’t judge by race or ethnicity in this country. We have had more than enough of that, over the generations. We take people as people: our fellow Americans, children of God, what have you.
Are all nine members of the Supreme Court Chinese-American women? Fine with me, if their legal understanding is sound. Are they all lefthanded Rastafarian men? Again, fine with me, if . . .
But “on the ground” — “in the real world” — this does not fly. People are very color- and tribe-minded.
I love sports — especially individual sports — for their very indifference to race, creed, etc. In golf, you shoot the lowest score, you win. (Of course, black Americans were shut out of the sport for a long time.) All that matters is the number on the card. The game is no respecter of persons.
In the past, more than once, I have quoted my friend Tom Paton, a professional golfer. Let me do a little Googling. Ah, here’s a paragraph:
He loves the purity of golf: If you ground your club in a hazard, it’s a two-stroke penalty. It doesn’t matter whether you meant to do it. It doesn’t matter whether a rattlesnake bit your hand. It doesn’t matter what color you are or what sex you are. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a good or bad person. If you ground your club in a hazard, it’s a two-stroke penalty. Period.
Realities of our politics — realities of life — do not comport with the Rules of Golf.
If you are still with me, let me stroll down Memory Lane a little, and tell a story or two. My memories and stories may appear disjointed. But they are notes in a theme.
I have a dear friend with whom I worked in the 1990s — a crack editor and writer. She said, “I’ve gotten several jobs because I am a woman.” She did not feel guilty about it. She was matter-of-fact about it. And everybody who hired her, I’m sure, was glad he did.
Was my friend ever denied a job because of her sex? I don’t think so. But lots of women have been, obviously.
During the 1980 campaign, Ronald Reagan pledged to nominate a woman to the Supreme Court. During his first year in office, a seat came open — Potter Stewart was retiring. Aides to Reagan said, “You didn’t say when you would appoint a woman, you know. You simply said you would. You could nominate a man this time.” Reagan said, “Nope: I promised to nominate a woman, and I may not get another chance. I’m doing it now.”
(I have paraphrased, I should make clear.) (I might also note: Reagan’s predecessor, Jimmy Carter, did not get a chance to nominate someone to the Court during his four years.)
Reagan appointed Sandra Day O’Connor. Was that bad? I mean, that he appointed a woman? That he aimed for a woman? You could argue it was. I might agree with you. But the Supreme Court had been in business for almost 200 years. Maybe it didn’t kill us that there was now a woman on the Court?
In 1991, Thurgood Marshall retired. He was the first black American on the Supreme Court and there had not been another. President Bush nominated Clarence Thomas to replace him.
Bush swore up and down that Thomas’s race had nothing to do with it. Thomas was simply the “best man” for the job. (To read a transcript of the relevant press conference, go here.) (I think I saw it live.)
A reporter asked Bush, “Was race a factor whatsoever, sir, in the selection?” The president answered, “I don’t see it at all.”
Okay. But, my dear friends: If you think that race had nothing to do with that selection, there is a bridge, not far from me here in New York, I would be interested in selling you.
Clarence Thomas certainly proved himself capable in the job, and more than capable. There are many people on the right who regard him as the very best of the justices, certainly since Antonin Scalia.
Question: Should there ever be a time when the Supreme Court has no black member on it? Answer (mine, at least): In theory, why should it matter? Out of theory . . .
Fast forward to 2022, when President Biden decided to put a black woman on the Court. There had never been one. And he nominated Ketanji Brown Jackson.
In most respects, she was an utterly conventional Supreme Court nominee: Harvard College; Harvard Law School; Harvard Law Review; Supreme Court clerkship (Breyer). A nominee out of Central Casting.
On principle, I don’t like the idea of selecting justices by race and/or sex. But it also occurs to me: The Court had been in operation for 233 years. When was it time to have a black woman on the Court? In 2078 or so? 2119? When?
Do you know what I mean?
In 2001, the second President Bush nominated Miguel Estrada for the D.C. Court of Appeals. A lot of us were thrilled with Estrada — he was an embodiment of the American Dream. He came to this country from Honduras when he was 17, speaking no English. And then: Columbia College, Harvard Law School, Harvard Law Review . . .
But the Democrats in the Senate killed his nomination, probably because he might have gone on to be the first Supreme Court justice of Latin American origin — and he was a conservative.
My blood boiled for a long time after that one. So did President Bush’s. (I know this personally.)
A little more Memory Lane: I seldom liked what President Obama said, but I appreciated his answer whenever he was asked, “Do people vote against you because of your race?” He would say some version of this: “Sure. But there are people who vote for me because of my race, too.”
(To read an article on this issue, go here.)
Can we be frank here, speaking among friends? Conservatives have long been especially excited about black Americans in our ranks. There is an old joke, told by conservatives: “What do you call the black person at a conservative gathering?” “The keynote speaker.”
You or I may wince to hear that joke, but veteran conservatives know where it comes from. That is, they know the truth behind it.
In recent years, I have noticed something like “white identity.” No doubt it was always there, but I did not see or hear it expressed much. Maybe I was sheltered. “In a bubble.” I don’t know.
So far as I can remember, I have never thought of myself as white — which stands to reason: Say you were tall in a nation where most people are tall. Would you think of yourself as tall? Almost certainly not. Short people, however, would be height-conscious (I guess).
You might say that it’s easy for me not to be race-conscious. A luxury. A privilege (loaded word). Someone insults you, racially, or discriminates against you, racially, and you are damn race-conscious.
There is lots of testimony from white people who marry black people or adopt black children and become, for the first time in their life, race-conscious.
I cling to my old ideals: colorblindness; E pluribus unum; the unity of man. You’d have to pry them from my cold dead hands. But I also try to walk in other people’s moccasins. Because I don’t order the world, race is very important to many people, and so is ethnicity, and so is tribe. People may not think as you or I do (which is annoying).
Also, people want to feel “represented.” I think a lot of this business of “representation” is nonsense, but — I think a lot of things are nonsense.
When I was young, I hated the idea that black children had to have black teachers or coaches in order to have “role models.” I would argue — I was quite the arguer — “Are you also saying that black teachers and coaches can’t be role models to white children? Do white children have to have whities? Does a teacher or coach have to be the same color as his charges in order to be a role model?”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was right. But I was also . . . maybe not so right. You’ve got to walk in other people’s moccasins, if you can — even if the walk does not ultimately change your views.
If my column today is messy, it’s because the general issue is messy, I think. It’s not black and white (pun intended).
I would like to tell one more story. When I was in high school, I had a friend who was a pianist. A black girl (which is relevant). One day, I asked her, “Who’s your favorite pianist?” She said André Watts. “Why?” I asked. Sheepishly, she said, “Because he’s black.” I said, “Emily, what does that have to do with anything? How can race be a criterion in music, for heaven’s sake? On top of that, his mother is Hungarian! That’s the whole reason he’s in music in the first place!”
I was correct. I was also an ass. In my defense, I was 16. I have learned more about the world in the years since, I hope. But still, I will never give up man as man.