Sheep (Black and Otherwise)

So here we are, on the eve of what has been called perhaps the most important election of several generations. The process to get here has been so long and ugly that I am at once relieved to know that after two years of listening to people blame their colleagues for the messes in which our country finds itself, tomorrow the national tone will change from accusatory to a general hopefulness. And I believe that this shift will take place no matter who wins.

Of particular interest to me (and the one which gives me the greatest hope) is the chance to see the nation’s reaction to its first African-American President. In terms of a presidential candidate, Barack Obama is a no-brainer for me: inspirational, energetic, controlled, intelligent, wholesome, tolerant, and willing to admit his mistakes. Obama has assembled a platform and ticket that, on the whole, amount to smart politicking, as well as compelling reasoning for America’s current needs.

N.B. I am not going to address the McCain-Palin ticket or platform more substantively than to say that at every juncture one of the following words would be used: misleading, inappropriate, insulting, absurd, illogical.

I think that if Obama were a white man, this election would turn out to be even more of a landslide than what I currently think will happen. It would be folly to attempt a blog treatise on racism in America, but I think that I have a unique perspective in many respects to share with an anonymous public.

I live in Harlem, New York City, perhaps the most historic African-American neighborhood in the country, and I work at one of its most storied institutions. Harlem is a great place to work and, for me, has been an incredible place to live, not only for its nuanced sense of community, but also for its stark contrast to my upbringing.

While my loving, and open-minded parents laid the foundations for a similar son, I can’t look back at many of my most formative experiences and point to any that helped to prepare me to confront the history or implications of race-related issues in this country the way that I recently have: I grew up in a town that had put fewer than five black people through my high school. I spent summers at often ritzy science and fine-arts camps, travelling with my family, and working on our vineyard in Northern California. I went to an elite college in New England, and for all the administration touted diversity, they needed a special scholarship and training program to attract students from diverse urban areas.

Shortly before I moved to Harlem 2.5 years ago, an African-American friend of mine said to me as we strolled to the infamously preppy Upper East Side burger joint, J.G. Melon, “Nathan, you have absolutely no idea what it is like to walk through a neighborhood and have people look at you the way they look at me here.” Mind you, she said this from behind her Gucci sunglasses, while slinging her Chloé handbag and floating down East 74th Street on Jimmy Choo heels. She was dressed as impeccably as any Park Avenue matron we came across, and she also was right. That is, she was right until I moved to Harlem.

The issues surrounding race in America do not constitute a quiet undertone that might be silenced by the election of Barack Obama to the highest office in the land. While I have been accepted by those who see me on a daily basis as a good neighbor and new Harlemite, I have been spat upon, called epithets, blamed for gross stereotypes of white people, mocked, and even avoided due to my skin color. Don’t get me wrong; these occurrences are very few and far between, and I still enjoy my adopted ‘hood. However, to think that by electing Senator Obama to the presidency, we finally will put to rest much of the “race issues” in America, we are only kidding ourselves.

While a President Obama certainly would symbolize how far our discourse on civil rights has come in a relatively short amount of time, my walk to work every morning shows me how much farther we have yet to go. I see a number of consistent symptoms of disenfranchisement around me every day: the number of canes, wheelchairs, walkers, and crutches on Frederick Douglass Boulevard at any hour of the day or night is astounding. The number of mothers who scream at their sobbing infants and even become physical with them in public is disturbing. The language used by the young people on the streets is appalling. The number of drug-addicted beggars is heart-breaking. These are the manifestations of feelings of powerlessness, low self-worth, disenchantment with the system, inaccessibility, and an unrecognized appreciation and specialness of their culture in the mainstream.

Yes, President Obama would be a great, gleaming symbol of progress for the role of minorities in this country, but I also hope that his election would signal the next needed step in racial equality, that of empowering marginalized populations to strive as individuals and communities and to respect the role they play in this country by understanding that it, in turn, is valued—ultimately, to enfranchise them as never before.

That will be the importance of an Obama presidency for Harlem: on the direct and practical side, greater accessibility to healthcare, more emphasis on bolstering underperforming schools, creating more employment opportunities, and more favorable tax policies for people in the lowest brackets; and indirectly, creating a new era of respect and leadership among people who identify with many shades of skin tone, outspoken women, middle names like Hussein, and who come from places where the “traditional home” never has been the norm.

Harlem has a lot riding on these returns. I feel so lucky to be here for this.