I still recall the energy and excitement that night in Abilene several years ago when we caucused for Barack Obama. That was a pivotal moment when my transition from a Republican to a Democrat was in full swing. Born into a poor, East Texas family that never really gave politics much space and conversation, I was still swayed in the days of President Kennedy that the world was going to change for the worse because we had elected a Catholic to the highest office in the land. What did I know? I was only a middle schooler, but apparently I listened in on those conversations though none are retrievable for me at the moment.
The enthusiasm for Obama was palpable. We could feel it in the air, and conversations, and it was frequently on our lips though we still had to fly under that proverbial radar because even though ACU was becoming bluer and bluer in its orientation, Republicans still held the reins on The Hill. Chapel speakers were of the right, never of the left. While faculty did not flaunt such, we knew who we were.
Hope was in the air. Hope stayed in the air despite some difficult times during those eight years that he and his family lived in the White House. I still remember the excitement of those two inauguration days. The hope and optimism were there in front of us. Unlike emotions that some of us had ever experienced before around politics. Yes, some folks were in mourning that we'd elected a black man to the highest office in the land and that a black family would be living in the White House and that a black First Lady would be creating her own place and space in DC and across the land. Some would hold them in derision which I think was a poor cover up for racism. I remember one day talking to a guy in the office where we'd get our drivers' license renewed. He talked about maybe somebody should take him out, the President, this is. My reply was something along the lines of be careful what you wish for, that that kind of scene would bring about things that we hadn't seen in years. Racism was not veiled that day.
Following the hope came the despair for some of us. I'd followed the campaign for the presidency. President Obama's secretary of state was running against a man that I thought was a sham and a scam artist. His rhetoric was racist, his political speeches around the country were full of vile, hateful things about immigrants, women, disabled, and all manner of other things repugnant to me and to some others that I was close to. Wherever he went, so the social scientists say, violence toward minorities lingered, but not so with Hillary's campaign speeches. She did not speak violently, but he did. And he still does. A Washington Post recently did a research project on episodes of violence across the country toward minorities in which his name was used. You've heard it before. "Go back to where you came from." "If you live here, speak English."
Then election night came. My wife and I stayed up as long as we could with a friend that we were visiting in another state. As the evening wore on, our emotions and hope wore down. Finally, we all called it a night. The next morning we looked at each other and asked if it really happened or was it just a nightmare that we'd awaken from. Across the table a bit later that morning as we worked on an important project with a colleague, the heaviness was so weighty and thick that you could cut it with the proverbial knife.
Three years have not given me any hope under the current administration. Lies which now number close to 16,000 or so are counted and speeches fact-checked like crazy. Close associates have been charged, found guilty, and are serving time in prison. He makes money off of our tax dollars in stependous ways that are glossed over by his followers. A tax package which was alleged for the middle class was passed and the net result was favorable to the wealthy but not so to people like me. Then there is the trade war with China over imports and exports. That harmed farmers of our land. They are going bankrupt at a higher rate than ever. Yes, there are billions of dollars in funds for them, but those funds go to the monolithic farmer organizations and not to small family farms, and definitely not to Black farmers that I know. The average American family will supposedly be paying a little more than a thousand dollars for the trade war in costs associated with it. Taxes I am willing to pay, but it does not go well when we have to pay for his blunders on the world stage. And that world beyond the US borders is watching and deeming the US no longer trustworthy.
These mental meanderings have been prompted today by Dr. Nicholas Powers, English prof at State University of New York, Old Westbury, and his article, "How to Blow Up a Wall with a Heartbeat," which for me is somewhat reminiescent of Coates' book to his son, "Between the World and Me." Though written with different intentions, both fathers love their children and want a better world for them. Both men want their black sons to live in a world where they are safe and protected. Coates warns his son about racism in the world and ways and means of escaping its clutches. Powers writes to his son talking about how he came to be and the power of his being and how his being tears down walls rather than building the walls and living behind them as planned by the current occupant of the White House.
I last became a father in 1981. Before that it was 1978. My sons now have children of their own. They range in age from 24 to eight months. I am a grandfather seven times. Those young ones will live in the world longer than I will. I have lived most of my life. It has been at times one of struggle and at times one of joy, perserverance, and hope. I have accomplished pretty much what I was born to do. When I pass on, this world will be in their hands.
I want them to know the truth about America, that which is good and that which is sordid. I want them to know that it was upon the backs of the enslaved that America was built, that those sorrow chants, spirituals, and other songs have deep meaning. I want them to know the truth about how the world sees white bodies versus black bodies and to take a stand. I want them to live in their corner of the world with hope and faith and respect for those who walk along with them. I want them to see color and respect peoples' lived experiences and their stories. I want their America to be more humane and respectful than the one we live in now, and the one, even, that their Poppie and Mema grew up in. I want them to understand the power of white privilege and to do something about it.
I yearn for problems of racism, poverty, police brutality, red-lining, health disparities, and such to be solved by the time they take the reins of leadership. I am not hopeful as I read the newspapers and watch the television and follow things on my iPhone. If that is the case, then I wish for them vision, hopefulness, generosity, compassion, godliness, and humanity to live amongst them. I hope that they leave the world better than they found it. I fear that my generation is leaving it worse than we found it. For that, I offer my apologies to my grandchildren.
I want them to know that their Poppie and Mema tried and tried and tried, and that we hoped and prayed and prayed and hoped and lived to the best of our abilities. I want them to create their own paths through the world and that hope will live within them.
I hope that they learn the power of love even in whatever divisive times they will live. Therein lies hope for generations to follow, that they will show love to whomever is across the way or across the street or around the world.
Above all, like Dr. Powers, I want them to tear down walls in a world that is now building them. Yes, my beloved grandchildren, tear down those walls that my generation is building. I do not approve of those walls. I did not vote for the guy who says bad things about people, who builds walls that separate both with words and policies as well as with steel and concrete.
I did not vote for him. I just want you to know.
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