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New brand of idealism
As a white male who’ll turn 78 in spring, my feminist credentials may be open to question. And if I accuse my sisters of being “vaginists” or “ovarists” in supporting the former “first lady” for the presidency, my early (1970s) NOW membership and my decade as a clinic escort on Coffee Road will surely be forgotten.
It’s sad that in the eighth year of America’s certifiably ugliest-ever presidency, a white woman and a black male must vie to be first of their species to reign. Both are eminently qualified. I harbor hopes of both their names being on next November’s Democratic ticket.
To me it’s not about the shape of the genitalia or the quantity of melanin in the skin.
It’s first, unfortunately, about who is surest to dethrone the Nixon-Reagan-Bush-McCain axis. I see the very survival of humanity tied to that. And Ms. Hillary has baggage, a built-in enmity. Rightly or wrongly, too many Americans will not vote for her.
Some of their reasons, frankly, suck. She’s “too uppity.” She “tolerated Bill’s foibles.” Others are grounded in reality. She did lead the Wellesley Young Republicans. She sold out on welfare and health. A few are on solid ground. She did back Bush’s war. She opposes leaving now. The corporate boardrooms, the Murdoch money, going to her do constitute a red flag.
I abhor the personal, vitriolic, hate-filled attacks on Hillary Clinton. I see her as a significant figure in American history deserving a place along Dolley Madison and Eleanor Roosevelt.
But a spammer asks, “are we as women still second class citizens? What more do we have to do?” I don’t think it’s a gender-related putdown to note that I voted for a Barack Obama who revives stirrings of pride I haven’t felt since ‘63. Since then I’ve experienced eight presidents with bare tolerance to physical loathing. All spawned embarrassment before the world.
Obama makes me feel upbeat. This is not starry-eyed infatuation. He does not always speak for me. He walks the walk, but “The Audacity of Hope” does not talk the talk. His “Big Tent” would include those who would stand me against a wall. I’m uncomfortable with that.
Barack Obama brings American political life a new brand of idealism, an intellect unseen in public life since Adlai Stevenson, a sense that we needn’t apologize to the world for the White House mediocrities this nation has experienced since the day the music died in Dallas.
It’s not about age vs. youth, double standards or which brand of slavery is worse. This is not woman-hating, not irrational Hillary hating. (I think she deserves a statue.) I detest the “sick, malicious” humor. I have high regard for Chisholm, Schroeder and, for that matter, Geraldine Ferraro, even if I find it gross to bring up Mary Jo Kopechne again.
I am not condescending in trying to enunciate both understanding and sympathy for the bitterness over injustices which are still not entirely relegated to history.
I wish Super Tuesday had come just a few weeks later, giving the steamroller/bandwagon yet more momentum. I support Obama not because I’m male or female, black or white, but because I’m a citizen of the earth who cares deeply about his grandchildren.
Fred Herman
Modesto
