Hoping for Home: From Brooklyn to Haiti (By Way of New Orleans and Harlem)

“Haiti has no debt with Venezuela — on the contrary, it is Venezuela that has a historic debt with Haiti,” –Hugo Chavez, President, Venezuela

I am considered dyaspora because I am Haitian American, born in Brooklyn to Haitian parents. But Haiti is my home. Although the last time I visited I was in diapers, Haiti has always held a special place in my heart. It is the birthplace of my parents, my ancestral homeland, the site of the first free Black republic. As Hugo Chavez attested, Haiti has served as an inspiration and provided hope for many generations of revolutionaries and freedom fighters, for those who wanted to believe in the impossible, like those slaves who first took up arms to battle a seemingly indomitable opponent.

But history has not been kind to Haiti. To the majority, it is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, ravaged by corrupt or inept leaders. It is a lawless state, at the bottom of the order of civilized societies. The scenes of despair in Haiti continue to break my heart and create a sense of urgency that I haven’t felt since Hurricane Katrina. Haiti, my home, and its wonderful, courageous residents must be supported and we must tell a different story. It has taken me a while to finally be able to write because my pain runs deep. I’ve felt helpless these last few weeks, as the news reports broadcasted story after story of the colossal devastation. For so many years, my dream has been to be able to step foot on Haitian soil. Now that I have a young daughter, that dream is extended to having the opportunity to see Haiti with my family. I will never give up on Haiti. The earthquake and the wonderful global response to aiding the country demonstrates the love many have for Haiti and its resilient people.

The Great Earthquake has killed hundreds of thousands, destroyed many cultural artifacts and thousands of homes, while utterly devastating a proud nation. It has not, however, been able to destroy the spirit and drive of the Haitian citizenry. Haiti will be rebuilt. It will not be like New Orleans, forgotten once the flood waters fully receded and the levees reconstructed. There are thousands who have not been able to return to New Orleans, usually poor Black people, and yet most people believe that things are back to normal. It will not be like Harlem, slowly but surely gentrified to the point of diluting its historical importance as a bastion of Black culture. For far too long, Haiti has been written off as a failed state, expatriates constantly lamenting its sorry condition, resigned to leaving their memories behind, sorely disappointed by constantly having dreams deferred.

The history of Haiti is steeped in trauma, to the extent that its citizens even begin to expect it. Even the brief hope developed by the Aristide presidency has since deteriorated into accusations of betrayal and theft. But Haiti will rise again. This time, the difference is that its dyaspora need to return home, those who left for better lands, must come back to build a new, never before seen Haiti. Those native born Haitian professionals should contribute their technical skills. Their children, now professionals themselves, must donate their time and expertise. The Haiti that I have always dreamed about, not the Haiti that the U.S. and its corporate allies wish to create, will inspire hope. It will be a Haiti of infrastructure, of sustainable commerce, with dignified employment opportunities for its residents. Haiti needs to be supported not exploited. Unfortunately, even in the midst of such a tragedy, there are those who intend to profit from it and savage the carcass of a fallen country. From overzealous missionaries trafficking children to black marketers gouging their neighbors for foodstuffs to the IMF drawing up draconian terms for providing Haiti with financial support, many have already set out to benefit at the expense of the Haitian people.

The dyaspora and our allies must write a different history, one of hope, not despair, of dreams, not trauma, of resurrection, not death. Haiti will know peace not war. The world will recognize the truth about Haiti, especially its beauty and its significant contribution to our global story. We must not leave it in the hands of the U.S., which has a poor record of rebuilding countries, usually choosing to co-opt the indigenous leadership and engaging in paternalistic, destructive behavior. It will be a protracted struggle which must go beyond donations and relief efforts. While money and aid are definitely needed, the rebuilding of Haiti will need long term human capital commitment. It will be done for love of country, for love of Haiti, for love of humanity. I believe it can be accomplished. My daughter will know the Haiti I never had a chance to see, and we will kiss the soil together, and enjoy the sunset in this brilliant and marvelous country I call home.

After the Quake

I’m still kind of numb on how to respond to the earthquake in Haiti, and am waiting to hear more details as it relates to my extended family. The images coming out of the island remind me of New Orleans and Hurricane Katrina: black people suffering through a natural disaster without the resources to deal. Of course, the lack of infrastructure in Haiti makes the crisis all the more grim. I’m a broke-ass freelancer, but I’ll try to scrape some money together to donate and will definitely give blood and clothes. Of course, that still feels like all too little.

The most meaningful thing I can think of to do is write about what Haiti means to me.

Why We Need More Super-leaders not Superheroes

As a child, I always loved superheroes. Through comic books and Saturday morning programs, I could escape into another world. DC Comics. Marvel. Superfriends. For a while, Superman was my favorite. He was a strong, All American male, handsome with super strength, X-ray vision and Lois Lane. He had it all, at least from my perspective as a chubby, nerdy, bespectacled Haitian kid from Queens. However, as I grew older, I felt that Batman was more of a figure with whom I could relate. Although a millionaire, Bruce Wayne was just a human with no superpowers but a slew of innovative weapons. I wasn’t a mutant, so I knew I could never be Wolverine or any other of the X-Men. The odds were slim that a radioactive spider would bite me, so becoming Spider-man was also out of the question. But Batman, I thought, could be within my reach. I just needed to be innovative and to work to develop tools for my success. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts to create my version of the Batbelt, I never became Batman. But something magical happened. I realized that I didn’t need to become a superhero to enjoy my world. Rather, I just had to utilize my imagination and I would be able to bring some of my fantasies into the real world. I could make an impact through my writing and my every day actions. I could be a leader.

The hysteria about Michael Jackson’s death and the recent dismay about Tiger Woods’s so-called “transgressions” has brought into sharp focus our society’s obsession with idolatry and with superheroes, usually manifested in the form of celebrities. My thesis is that we could do a lot better if we were seeking, or better yet trying to become, super-leaders not superheroes. Whenever I heard a parent talk about how disappointed his or her child was about Tiger Woods, I cringed. Tiger Woods and any athlete should be celebrated for their athletic abilities. However, that is where it should end. In my opinion, Tiger Woods or any other celebrity should never be a role model for any child. When I was younger, I had posters of my favorite basketball players on my bedroom wall. From Hakeem the Dream to Patrick Ewing to Clyde Drexler, I admired their athletic prowess. But I was clear that they were not my role models. I might try to copy their moves on the basketball court, but I never considered them persons I wanted to emulate. My parents instilled in me the desire to achieve academically and to create my own successes. I was not celebrity-struck because my parents were not celebrity-struck. This notion of celebrity obsession was foreign to me. Logically, it never made sense to me. Watching people faint at the sight of another human being, as often happened when Michael Jackson was in public, was silly and embarrassing to me. “He is just a man,” I would think.

But I recognize that something is missing in many peoples’ lives. Rather than taking control of their own lives and becoming super-leaders, they spend their time being more concerned about the lives of others, namely celebrities. What are Brad and Angelina up to today? Where did Britney go last night? Who is TMZ following now? Frankly, who cares? Psychologically, I understand the dynamic. People love escapism. Celebrity gossip allows them to leave their perceived mundane existence. It gets them excited. It allows them to dream about other realities. It makes for great water-cooler, and in this generation, wonderful Facebook chatter. I understand guilty pleasures and don’t begrudge people their desire to let their brains vegetate for a minute. I also recognize that many of us need superheroes, people who we can look up to, who we can aspire to be, who give us hope for greater things and comfort about infinite possibilities. However, I worry that too many children are growing up wanting to be Miley Cyrus rather than Cyrus the Great (minus the issues of violent conquest).

The recent and relatively unnoticed death of Mr. Percy Sutton illustrates the contrast between super-leaders and superheroes. Percy Sutton was a super-leader, a pioneer. He was a Tuskegee Airman, served as legal counsel for Malcolm X, was a New York State Assemblyman and a one time Manhattan Borough president. He went on to co-found Inner City Broadcasting, which featured WLIB and WBLS in New York City, and also invested in the New York Amsterdam News and the Apollo Theater. While not perfect (and none of us are), he inspired many to become leaders, and paved the way for the first (and only) Black mayor of New York City the Honorable David N. Dinkins. Super-leaders, like Percy Sutton, are real and they work, not only for their benefit, but for the good of others. Superheroes, like Tiger Woods and other celebrities, are socially constructed idols, admired for their individualistic accomplishments, and placed on never to be touched pedestals. But, unfortunately, they are not real.

While Michael Jackson’s passing touched me because it signaled the loss of a particular time of my youth, those carefree Off the Wall and Thriller days, the death of Percy Sutton has impacted me even more and made me recognize the urgency for me to step up and to be a super-leader. As a new father, I especially worry about how my daughter will be influenced by our celebrity-obsessed culture and how to shield her appropriately from it. So, while I don’t suggest that we need to permanently give up our superheroes, I believe that we could benefit from more super-leaders. Without getting on a soapbox (or maybe it’s too late for such a disclaimer), I resolve to use my Batmobile for good while attempting to change the world.

Favorite books of 2009

Let’s knock this out real quick. These weren’t released in 2009, but that’s when I read them.

Honorable Mention: Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA, by Tim Weiner
This book gets only an honorable mention because I’m still working my way through it. It’s a startling read, though. Honest to God, this book has made me wonder how this country managed to survive with such an inept intelligence agency. I knew about the high-profile CIA failures over the years (the Bay of Pigs, not foreseeing the fall of the Soviet empire, 9/11), but I always assumed there were some successes mixed in there as well. I was wrong. They’ve been wrong about damn near everything over the years. They assured Truman that the Chinese weren’t going to intervene in the Korean War, even as hundreds of thousands of Chinese soldiers massed along the borders. They ruined Eisenhower’s chance at detente with the Soviet Union by insisting on a U2 spy flight that was shot down in Soviet airspace. They were infiltrated by Soviet spies at the highest levels. It’s straight up appalling. And that’s without even going into the disastrous covert operations record. So far, I’ve made it from the Truman years through the LBJ presidency, and what’s really interesting is that every president over that 20+ year period hated and distrusted the CIA, but none of them could figure out how to fix it or kill it. Doesn’t really inspire confidence.

3. Serena, by Ron Rash
I love books that feature fierce, intimidating female characters, and they don’t come tougher than Serena. She is the wife of a logging magnate in Depression-era North Carolina, and she’s so bad that not only does she quickly gain the respect of the local lumberjacks, but she becomes the person they fear the most (even moreso than her husband, who’s introduced killing a man in a knife fight). She pushes her husband beyond his already brutish methods until they seize near-tyrannical control of the area. But when a life-threatening miscarriage renders her sterile, she decides to kill her husband’s illegitimate toddler son and the boy’s mother. That decision opens up a dangerous rift in her marriage that endangers their lives and their control over the county. I’ve enjoyed very few characters more than I enjoyed Serena (which explains why I was so annoyed by her tacked-on comeuppance in the epilogue).

2. The Flashman series, by George MacDonald Fraser
My list is really short this year, mainly because I spent a good chunk of 2009 reading the 12-book Flashman series, which tells the adventures of Sir Harry Flashman, imperial war hero, ladies man, coward and all-around scoundrel. I could rank the books separately, but they all generally follow the same formula: Flashman is unwillingly pulled into the latest British imperial war, he sleeps with as many women as possible, and he shirks his duty yet somehow ends up with greater glory and acclaim each time around. (I can only remember two characters who saw him for what he truly was: his father-in-law, and Abe Lincoln.) The books are incredibly funny, and they have that real swashbuckling feel to them, but they’re also meticulously researched, and give a subtly effective history of Britain’s empire during the second half of the 19th century. Flashman has a very modern P.O.V. that I can appreciate. He clearly doesn’t believe in the British imperial mission, but he doesn’t go for any “noble savage” nonsense either. In Flashman and the Redskins (in which Flashy admits to possibly killing Custer at Little Big Horn in a friendly fire accident) Flash gives what’s probably the best summation of his attitude:

“…when selfish and frightened men–in other words, any men, red or white, civilised or savage–come face to face in the middle of a wilderness that both of ‘em want, the Lord alone knows why, then war breaks out, and the weaker goes under. Policies don’t matter a spent piss…”

Since he’s always the biggest villain on the stage, this attitude is a bit self-serving, but there is more than a bit of truth to it.

1. Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
If I were a writer, this is the kind of book I’d want to write. Adichie brings home the elation of liberation and the tragedy of defeat in a remarkably affecting way, so that I (who knew nothing about Biafra and the Nigerian Civil War) felt as elated and as mournful as the main characters while reading it. Adichie builds a deeply involving world of educated, upper-middle class intellectuals, and watching them slowly descend to the point of fighting over scraps of food in refugee camps was heartbreaking, and a needed reminder that these images of third world suffering that we see on TV don’t tell the whole story of their lives. Adiche makes that point more effectively than I ever could in this talk, “The Danger of a Single Story.” I recommend watching it, and if you enjoy it, give the book a try.

Haitian Sensation Radio: Stardust/Old Folks

I’ve never been much of a free-jazz guy. I mean, I respect and even dig some of the work that falls into the category, like the efforts of Ornette Coleman, Pharoah Sanders and others. But the place where I instinctively go as a jazz fan has always been to hard bop. Hard bop, as the name suggests, came out as an evolution of be-bop but worked in more elements from rhythm & blues, gospel and blues sources. Hard bop didn’t trade away the intellectualism of be-bop but was less concerned with the technicalities of the songcraft, and homed in more on communicating certain sensibilities.

A friend once mocked my jazz preferences by basically saying, “Ha ha, youuuu like structure!” in that sing-songy playground teasing way. But you listen to this track by Joe Henderson and the way he plays with the structure of these two standards is indicative of what a fertile imagination can do within the strictures of melody and tunefulness. (It’s the fourth track on the album.)

Epistrophy Epiphany

I just finished reading Robin D. G. Kelley’s Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of An American Original last week. It’s a heroically researched chunk of words and I’d have to stand in awe of it even if it wasn’t about one of my favorite musicians ever.

Kelley interviewed tons of family members, musical peers and friends as would be expected, but he goes deeper than any other musician biography I’ve ever read. He also rounds up people who went to see random gigs, checks the decades-old logs of the local musician unions and investigates mental health medical practices through Monk’s lifetime.

Scrap Iron Man

When I was in college, I wrote a long-ass final paper for my Minorities in the Media class about black superheroes. (What up, Professor Dent?) Using Ishmael Reed’s Black Pathology Biz as a jumping-off point, I looked at how black characters in superhero comics tended to fall into different categories. Characters like Black Goliath would be a prime example of “Too Smart for His Own Good”: scientific geniuses who tended to have adventures where his brain was never as important as his brawn. Other heroes like Black Lightning were cast in the “Credit to His Race” mold, where they fought crime in lurid ghettos filled with people too apathetic or scared to change their own circumstances. I came up with a few more archetypes that I can’t remember right now. It was a long time ago and I’ve since lost the paper. I think I got a B+ on it?

Graeme McMillan’s recent piece on War Machine over at Gawker’s sci-fi blog i09 reminded me of my undergrad analysis. The portrayals of black characters in superhero comics have been wince-inducing mostly because they riffed off of cultural cues that you kinda got the sense that the creators didn’t really get. Blaxploitation, Afro-diasporic otherness and hip-hop all got channeled in really bizarre ways when they got gussied up in superhero tights. With very few exceptions, I could never shake the feeling that, man, something must be wrong with these cats. And not in a good way. McMillan’s piece on Rhodey strikes that same chord.

Guess Whose Back?

It’s weird to think that Sade’s new joint will be dropping next year. She was probably my first celebrity crush. Hell, my first crush period. She was (is) fine, yes, but it was more the aura of mysterious allure that the artist and her work projected that set my teenage heart to pining away. Her songs were where I first started contemplating romantic love, desire, friendships and adult responsibilities, but also they got me thinking how and when those things break down. I was listening to “Maureen,” “When Am I Going to Make  A Living?” and “Love Is Stronger Than Pride” way before my first love affair or break-up but those songs got me ready to talk about those things.

Her work introduced me to the idea that I’d have to mature. Her albums also teased my young mind with the idea of a hip, bohemian yet cosmopolitan world where sensitive, nerdy types like me might actually fit in.

Musically, the jazzy and soulful vibe of her bandmates helped ignite my curiosity about jazz and soul music.  Sure, those drum machine beats on “Siempre Hay Esperanza” sound a little out of place now, but that sax playing is some on-point ballad artistry.

Sade’s music worked for me as a lonely teenager but it kept on working for me as a committed adult. It’s been ten years since her last studio work and no one’s come close to matching her unique voicings. Lots of songs and singers mine the emotion of longing but no one gets at it the way Ms. Adu does. I may have been first entranced by her when I was still a skinny teenager but I’ve learned (the hard way) that longing doesn’t go away when you’re grown. That’s why Soldier of Love will probably be a day one purchase for me.

Obama: Passion vs. Arrogance

God forgive me for my brash delivery
But I remember vividly
What these streets did to me
So picture me
Lettin these clowns nitpick at me- Jay Z “What More Can I Say?”

Danny, I like the Guru comparison, but I would take it a step further. Guru was too underrated to be Obama. Obama is really the Jay-Z of politics. Lyrical. Smooth. Never rattled. Ice cold. Possessing a large, cross-sectional fan base. Seemingly above the fray. He needs that smoothness and cool demeanor given the vitriolic nature of the healthcare debate and his Tea Party agitators. So, I surely appreciate him trying to take the high road. On the other hand, I want to clarify the notion of passion. I would never debate that Obama can deliver soaring rhetoric. He has the grand speech thing down pat. But speeches don’t effectively change people’s lives unless there is a movement or policy changes linked to them. I most definitely want Obama to succeed but I must also objectively critique his strategies and tactics. The passion thing is based on the data. I will not question his toughness. Folks know his history in Chicago and the fact that he was willing to bare knuckles to get things done. But when I discuss passion, I am really talking about commitment to some core values and principles, which are consistently demonstrated. Is it to his party? Evidently not. Exhibit A. A weak yet loyal Democratic candidate runs for mayor in New York City. Rather than using some political capital to strongly support Bill Thompson, which would have cost him nothing, he gives one of the weakest endorsements possible. Why? Clearly Obama did not want to upset Bloomberg and his deep pockets. I would rather he just say, “Mayor Bloomberg is an ally, and I wish to remain neutral in this race.” But no, he plays both sides of the fence, giving an innocuous endorsement which faintly demonstrates party loyalty, but allows him to save face with Bloomberg. It wasn’t about whether or not Thompson was a loser but rather about commitment to your party, which I guess doesn’t mean much to Obama. Some would argue that Obama did not want to get involved in local politics but clearly he felt it important enough to sandbag poor David Paterson (I’m not his fan but clearly he deserved a little bit more love) and to try to save a sinking Gov. Corzine in New Jersey. Worse yet, now it has been revealed that Bloomberg used his influence to keep Obama on the sidelines.

That is a microcosm of the Obama way. Play the middle. Passion? Is it to ending the war in Afghanistan? Nope. Clearly not yet ready to make a decision on that yet. Hasn’t articulated a strategy for getting out, and what exactly we are doing there now. Still searching for Bin Laden? Trying to prop up a corrupt Karzai administration? Hmmm, a cliffhanger. Is it to get American workers employed again? No, he has just gotten around to announcing a jobs summit after months of reports by economists that unemployment would hit double digits (and it is definitely way higher since the way unemployment is calculated is akin to nutritional information on junk food, the smallest number the better). Now comes word that the major stimulus plan component, green jobs, are primarily going overseas.

I think the passion that some talk about is really Obama’s own grandiosity, like any other narcissistic politician. Quite honestly, Obama and his advisers, as Bush would say, misunderestimated Obamamania and the amount of political capital he possessed. They talked about having healthcare wrapped up before the Congressional recess in August. He tackled healthcare because he believed that his charm would overwhelm both his Republican critics and his party dissidents. Obama knew it would be a remarkable legacy. But he was wrong about the power of his charm offensive. It was pure arrogance. There will be no true bipartisanship on this bill, and he was even unable to wrangle his own party’s rabble-rousers. Despite that reality, the healthcare bill will be a major achievement. And he should indeed receive credit for such a historical accomplishment. Since I understand that he probably wanted to take advantage of his majority in both Houses to pass this bill, it was a strategic move. But the most pressing issue was unemployment. I have been talking for some time about the fact that the administration needs to spur job creation. Folks who are unemployed will not have to worry about health insurance because they won’t be able to afford it. Climate change? Probably not the most salient concern for someone trying to just pay the rent. Constantly extending unemployment benefits will not stimulate the economy or really help those who are not working. Folks who can collect unemployment for two years will not necessarily be that willing to consume. Rather they are just trying to keep hope alive and their heads above water. Obama and his advisers understand that to create jobs, you either need to convince private employers to wholeheartedly invest in American workers (not a good bet) or to have the government develop a major WPA-type initiative to get people working (probably too socialist for them and a massive undertaking). So, again, as difficult as healthcare reform has historically been, his ego convinced him that it was easier than job creation.

Obama can be Cool Hand Luke all he wants but appearances matter. I am not asking him to be fire and brimstone all the time. But I am asking for him to not be so scripted and staged. Michelle seems to be his realness and moral compass. It’s the psychology of it. What worked during the campaign (i.e. grand ideas and promises) will not work as a sitting president, if there is no substance. The Clinton comparisons will continue because he hired all the usual suspects rather than bringing new energy and a different perspective to the White House. Rahm Emanuel? Really? If you want to ever see an example of Good Cop (Obama), Bad Cop (Emanuel), there it is. I will give him credit where it is due but I would also like his fervent supporters to be willing to admit his missteps and flaws. I know my politics are indeed much to the left of him, so I don’t ever expect to fully agree with Obama on a lot of things. Yet I am open to supporting him when there seems to be common ground, and I will continue to call him out when I feel it necessary.

“It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.” – Frederick Douglass

Just like the seashore I’m calm… but wild, with my monotone style

Let me step into the cipher, now long overdue and glad to be here. To start, Ghostface is in town tonight. I had thoughts of going, but nothing quite makes me feel my age now like going to a hip hop show. And, as you may know/imagine, a hip hop show in Boston lends itself to a unique brand of white youth proving they’re down. Of course, in this day and age, they are – everyone is. It almost makes me miss the whole debate about wiggers and Young Black Teenagers.

But this post is ultimately about Obama, and my musing about how we assess his tenure thus far. David and Todd’s debate hit on key points, none of which I’ll repeat. And the question about his passion immediately brought me back to Guru, who, in spite of his self-described monotone, brought incredible passion to the game. Of course, his game was elevated (and some would say made) by Premier, his essential partner, foil, perhaps muse. Who is Obama’s Primo? The one and only person that comes to mind is Michelle – who, though, as well as she plays it, is still expected to maintain as primary her First Lady status (but did you catch the picture of her jumping double dutch on the White House lawn last month? It truly brought me to tears of joy). I’ll leave the question out there… in the dual realms of politics and leadership, who is Obama’s pnc?

Back to the realness: how do we judge Obama’s presidency? A few things come to mind. First, I have been involved in some form of urban youth work during every election from ’92 until present, and last year’s was the first one in which I saw young folks of all ages be engaged in an election. Children as young as 3, 4, 5 knew and know who Obama is. In fact, our soon-to-be 2 year old son says “Obama” at random times each week – and means it. And while the initial euphoria of victory certainly has dissipated, the inspiration and impact of Obama (and really the Obamas) being in the White House remains. We all know that nothing in the way of this country’s  entrenched and pervasive structural racism has changed, but the sense of what is possible for young people across the country has shifted dramatically. As the father of a biracial son, I can actually look to the White House with pride. I never expected that I would be able to say that at any point in this lifetime… if not beyond. As Erykah said, “I guess I’ll see you next lifetime.”

Aside from the beer summit (not to mention his choice of beer), Obama’s initial statements both about the police officer’s overreaction in making the arrest and then about the Secret Service’s hypothetical response to seeing him (Obama) trying to get in the front door of the White House provided powerful affirmation that Obama can bring the realness. I am almost amazed that there was not more backlash; he ostensibly named the racist elephant (fox?) that festers in the US, and it goes well beyond the Republican Party. When the now somehow (in)famous Joe Wilson shows his true colors, Obama can play it cool and allow others to call foul; say what you will about Jimmy Carter, but I absolutely trust that his Georgia roots allow him to judge racists fairly.

And, I have to say, I like having a couple in the White House that I can relate to. I mean, damn, Obama plays ball. Michelle is cultivating organic foods. Albeit on a different level, he and Michelle negotiate marriage, parenting and work as we do. I would actually want to hang out with them, and not on some “Who is a person, living or dead, that you would most like to have dinner with?” tip. But I am also realistic: A health care bill without a public option would be abysmal. Lack of significant reform AND regulation of Wall Street seems a real possibility. There is still minimal relief for homeowners facing foreclosure. I have no love for Arne Duncan and I am disgusted with the lack of substantive education reform. Guantanamo may not be closed by January. Kanye may still make public appearances. And on and on and on and on….

How am I judging Obama? I ultimately intend to hold Obama accountable for the lasting change he is able to effectuate. Yet just as no leader should be put on a pedestal or falsely idolized, and certainly no black leader should be held to any lower standard than our wonderfully competent cohort/cabal of white presidents, we also cannot fall prey to leadership oppression. As much as people tend to like the idea of change, they resist when asked to act on it. That reality, along with the social, political and economic context in which we are living, all make the challenges facing Obama that much greater. I harbor incredible hope that conditions in the US will improve for the majority of people and that Obama will help lead the charge. The politricks in this country are such that he cannot and will not do it alone – and we know he has a lot of folks rooting for his demise: “In the arena, or rather coliseum, there’s people gathering by multitudes to see one
perpetrator fall to the dust after the other…”. As long as he brings the realness, I’ll have his back.