The Perfectly Undefineable Identity of Barack Obama

So close. My heart races at the thought of voting today. As there are two democratic candidates with strong momentum, it makes it all the more exciting for me to participate on a side.



I choose Obama. Without delving into platforms, I largely base my support upon his character and his identity--or the identity I perceive him to have, I should say.

As to which candidate connects to me the most, I gotta go for the least defined. Hillary Clinton is a white woman. Her being white is not necessarily what distances me from her as I am a woman of color. It is more that her identity is not complexified enough, multiple enough. My own identity as a woman is of color is not solely that: I have a mixture of identities in which I am a Latina but not indigenous; I am the daughter of immigrants, but a U.S. citizen. It goes on.

Personally, Hillary's white-woman identity is is outweighed by Barack Obama's mixed identity and complexified status as a person of color.

As a fan of Gloria Anzaldua, I embrace the multiplicity of Obama's character. He has experienced the United States from inside and from outside its nation-state. He is the son of a mixed couple--a white mother and a Kenyan father--yet raised with an Indonesian stepfather. He cannot be boxed into a racial category--his ancestry apparently does not trace into United States slavery, yet he is referred to as a black man and United States citizen.

I recognize that one's experiences and physical characteristics should not solely merit judgment--Hillary can't control that she's a white woman just as Barack cannot control his mixed identity.

But what I truly appreciate in Barack Obama is that he applies his mixed characteristics towards his consciousness. His conscious experience consists of plurality--he does not have the luxury of boxing himself into categories: he is not just a man, nor is he just a black man. Because he cannot singularize his identity, I feel that he has the strongest sense of identity of all.

Barack Obama's identity is extracted from people. From family, to friends, to anyone that he comes into some form of contact with. His identity is not grounded onto something, but rather assembled by a mixture of interactions.

To run as a white woman for president, Hillary is not at a disadvantage. However, to run as a white woman who has cemented herself in that identity, Hillary is distanced from the various aspects of her platform. She might defend important issues concerning people of color, for example, but always as a white woman.

Barack cannot select an identity, he cannot fit himself into a conceptual structure. The issues he faces continue to provide him insight into his identity, whereas the issues Hillary faces are channeled into her accumulated sense of "professional experience."

What this means for me is that Barack is a leader who continues to learn--from the very core of his being--from those he encounters and from those experiences he lives on a day to day basis. I strongly believe that he connects to a wide range of people--he will not know everyone's experiences, but he recognizes that the United States is a complex structure of infinite lived experiences.

To avoid definition is to reject confinement. Barack Obama, through his strong sense of identity as a member of the people of this country but not as a specific type of people, recognizes the core multiplicity of our physical and conceptual nation-state.

I passionately support Barack Obama. For his platform, sure, but so much for his rhetorical meaning to our nation.

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.