Friday, January 25, 2008

Interracial Thoughts On The Presidential "Race"

Really quick, do you ever think that this year's election feels somewhat like a popularity contest from high school?

Maybe not totally like that, but maybe more like how Margaret Cho from the Huffington Post puts it:
"I just think overall there are too many people running. It is like a reality show. It's like America's Next Top President. Why don't we just let Tyra decide?"

Oh MY. That's a funny idea.

"If you become the President of the United States, can ma' momma and I have a slumber party in the Lincoln bedroom?"

Lincoln? What, because he "freed" blacks? Give me a break. Girl, you need to get a grip. If Obama is president, you're not even going to be last on his list of all the screw-ups he'll have to fix--you are beyond salvaging.

Sometimes I'm embarrassed to admit that I am voting for Obama. I think it's because I am a light-skinned Latina, and people might suspect that it's because my boyfriend is black. It's really a ridiculous thought, but I admit that it's one of those many self-conscious ideas you get when you are in an interracial relationship. You know, something you'd hear in some lame joke on Comedy Central, worthy of no more than a "heh."

I am not embarrassed *of* Obama, don't even get me wrong there. What I am saying is that since I am not black, and since my boyfriend *is* black, I hesitate to proclaim my strong support in some cases when I believe someone might shallowly perceive it to be evidence of some kind of fetishism of the black man. Oh it's a real thing in this world, but don't start with me on that.

And another thing. Why should I ever even consider Hillary just because she's a woman? Women are just as capable of deception as men. As my boyfriend put it, "I would put my wallet in Obama's hands...but not in Hillary's." It's not about the money, you see, it's about trusting that the person would actually hold and take care of something of yours. Kind of like when another female student asks me to watch her *laptop* at a cafe while she goes to order a coffee. Or before when we used to have to sit on the floor in lines to board our our planes at Southwest and a fellow passenger would ask me to watch her things as she visited the bathroom.

I would not trust Hillary with my wallet, my laptop, or even my luggage full of used textbooks from last semester's classes. She reminds me of a self-righteous ESL teacher who patronizes and condescends dark-skinned, accented students and parents. I feel like if she met my mom, she would listen with her eyes stretched open, a forced smile, and re-pronounce any mis-pronounced words back to my mother as she nods excessively. Ech, if you know what I am talking about, you'll understand my quivering at the thought of that. Ha, my mom would hate me for even hypothesizing about Hillary being anything less than a hundred miles near her.


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