“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.

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

First a bit of comparison: I went to St. Lucia in December for my first real vacation in about five years. That island was a colony of both the British and French, seven times served under each empire. They speak their own kreyol (creole) dialect there, but it shares some similarities to Haitian kreyol. My command of Kreyol is terrible. Still, I could understand about 70%-80% of what was said and that–along with the tropical climate and friendly people–made me feel like I was in an alternate reality version of Haiti. I imagined what my ancestral homeland could be like with investment, infrastructure and international support. The trip to St. Lucia set off a yearning to go back to Haiti, which honestly was the last thing I was expecting to feel.

I haven’t been to Haiti since I was in college. My dad’s people are from the south, near Port-au-Prince, and my mom’s family is from Port-de-Paix, way up in the north. So, I’m kind of the product of a city folk/country folk relationship, which means family members drove me all up and down the barely paved roads to meet distant relatives. The memories are mostly sensory now: the throbbing of drums in the forest and how that wasn’t scary at all, a lagoon with water so clear I could see the fish swimming around my ankles, the amazing taste of just-picked mangos and avocados.

The most vivid mental snapshot remains the image of the National Palace. I was 11, maybe 12 years old when I first saw it. It’s tough to put into words how symbolically important that was for me. There goes our White House, I thought. A White House for black people. Hell, the first White House for any black people anywhere.

Now it’s a crumbled wreck.

It’s chilling to watch the news reports with their constant mentions about Haiti’s poverty (which ain’t nothing new). That meme–true though it may be–doesn’t do any justice to the island’s cultural significance. From the revolution that made it the first free black republic to the great intellectual and spiritual movements, Haiti represents a vital example of black diasporan will and creativity. It’s a hotbed of fusion and syncretism, a place where artforms, musics and religions go and get mixed up with other things. Arawak and Taino meets West African and European, jazz meets drums, mushrooms meet rice. The results come out in new, nearly unrecognizable forms. That’s what beautiful about Haiti.   Haiti’s a shining example of the processes that have enabled black communities all around the world to survive and thrive. We need to remember why it’s important to help Haiti recover.

Everyone reading this, do what you can, even if it’s just sending positive thoughts.

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.

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.

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:

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.)

Dig the way the audience eats up those big, churchy piano chords pianist Wynton Kelly lays out in the intro. Then, when he states the melody, it’s clear they recognize Hoagy Carmichael’s tune. At 1:08, you can even hear someone humming along loudly, though it might be Wynton himself or someone else on the bandstand. A few seconds later, when Henderson starts soloing, you can hear the audience responding to the smokiness of his tone and the spacing of his notes. Peep the dude saying “Take it away, Joe” at 1:48.

Henderson continues to keep the crowd rapt when he bears down and returns to the song’s melodic structure at about three minutes in. They applaud the heroic exertion of his ragged arpeggio that ends at 3:30 and he probably knows he’s got ‘em hooked. From there, he opens up a bit, swaggering with muscular, free-ranging riffs that jump up and down all over the range of the tenor sax. Hear the folks paying attention again at 4:59. It’s a long solo, too, clocking in at a little more than eight minutes.

Joe Henderson was a great tenor player and that’s half of what makes this performance so awesome. The other crucial half is that you can hear the listeners responding to him being great. Amongst the tinkling of classes and bar chatter, you can feel the collective focus of the room keenly coalescing every phrase being played. Even after Henderson’s virtuoso turn, you can hear the enthusiasm when Wynton Kelly takes the lead and transitions into Old Folks. The hollers, whistles and exhortations go against the grain of how most people think about jazz—as coolly, sedate exercises where everything stayed buttoned-down. Nope, there’s fire too. In fact, there’s even fire in jazz’s cool school.

Joe Henderson never became a well-known legend like Sonny Rollins or John Coltrane, despite working on some of the same labels with some of the same people. But the reason I like his work is because he could still generate his own kind of heat.  The brilliance of Star Dust/Old Folks and, really, this whole recording is that you can hear that he’s not alone in the wilderness. Artists of any stripe need feedback and it’s glorious to Henderson getting heaps of it as he plays his heart out.

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.

It all adds up to an incredible amount of myth-busting. The over-arching script on Monk has been that he was a naïve, unsophisticated genius whose weird plunkings on the piano magically produced brilliant music. It’s a classic bit of essentialism, one that posits Monk must’ve been tapping into some kind of native ooga-booga pool of talent that al Negroes must possess. Kelley puts all that to rest and does so pretty definitively, I think. He peels away the curtain of enigma and reveals Monk as a family man, a fiercely loyal friend and an artist attuned to the social and artistic changes of his time.

All of Kelley’s archeology flips the script of the eccentric genius living in a rarefied air. In fact, against the backdrop of previous understandings, the portrait of Monk as a community-minded paterfamilias is a radical one. The book’s intensively researched but that research is not just obsessive digging; it grounds Monk in a specific place and time. For example, you’d never know how many benefits for the United Nations and civil rights initiatives Monk played without reading this book.

Life & Times smartly focuses on work; it’s almost a labor diary of when, where and how much Thelonious earned. That’s important for two reasons. The first reason is such a thorough, chronological focus on gigs and contracts underscores the simple fact that, as a musician, you don’t eat if you’re not working. The The second is that you see how Thelonious’s genius didn’t pay off until relatively late in his life and the role that preconceptions and, occasionally, institutional racism played in all of that.

But, despite the mountains of footnotes, Kelley creates a lively, funny and fleshed-out rendering of Monk. Anyone who reads it will never hear Thelonious’ music the same way again.

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.

Comics guru Grant Morrison is in the middle of a long Batman run and part of his treatment of the Bat-mythology is to accept everything. The goofy Batman-fights-space-aliens stories from the 1950s? Those happened. (Maybe only in Batman’s head, but they happened.) Morrison also takes the approach that the cumulative effect would impact Bruce Wayne’s psychology to the point of engendering a nervous breakdown. Morrison’s concerned with a meta-narrative that alleges that these stories take on a life of their own and feed back into the story of the character.

I wonder what that approach would yield if you looked at the histories of more notable black comics characters like War Machine or Luke Cage or Black Panther in this way. It’d make you wanna holler. I know that dramatic structure requires embattled protagonists but, taking their fictional lives in the long view, these characters have had very few moments of well-adjusted happiness. In the comics, War Machine’s a barely-human cyborg obsessed with righting the world’s wrongs.In the real world, his comic’s about to be cancelled. Chances are we’ll have some kind of relaunch or re-imagining of James Rhodes and his War machine alter ego to tie in with the Iron Man 2 buzz next year. Here’s hoping he can actually be a human being in it.

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.

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

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.