How To Win Friends & Influence A Womanist

Let me start plainly. I have not been very pleased with Senator Hillary Clinton of late. I had been a fan of hers for a very long time.

I believed her to be principled and decent and when she began her campaign for the Democratic Party's nomination for president, I was excited, supportive and hopeful. I thought of Shirley Chisholm a lot during those early weeks of her campaign. She was smart and strong and the kind of outspoken woman who I, as a kid, thought should be running the country. But when Senator Clinton began her most recent journey in the quest for the presidency (I think the quest started much earlier), I had a major problem with the way in which she started it - on a flowered couch in, what looked like, her cozy living room.She sat down to chat with us like she was having tea in the sun room. It nagged at me, but I let it go with the thought, "But I suppose that the U.S. populace might accept her better this way."I was angry with mainstream media outlets who continually called her "Hillary." Yes, it's what her mama calls her, but her name is "Senator Clinton." Howard Dean is never "Howard" he's "Govenor Dean," or "Chairman Dean." I was stunned into silence when I found that Sen. Clinton, herself encouraged the behavior. It indicates a lack of respect, rarely reserved for men, when women are not addressed by their rightly earned titles.Then there was Chris Matthews's infamous comment on the victimhood of Sen. Clinton and it's role in her success to that date. Again, angry.

Then came the downward slope of her candidacy and her stunning dip into Republican campaign tactics to slow the momentum of her polls and voter slippage. One might argue that she was only playing the games that the "big boys" play, but this is not a winning argument for me. The problem, for me, was not the politics. The problem for me was that she told us that she was different. I thought she was different. I supported her because I thought she was different and I was let down, as are all who place their faith in politicians. I found her use of ignorance and xenophobia unconscienceable. This is especially pointed for me as a left of center, womanist, Black woman ally of the GLBT community. There are some things which I cannot forgive, or at least, do not forgive easily and sowing the seeds of fear for already disenfranchised groups is one of those things.I've been grumbling, grousing, ranting and raging about Sen. Clinton since she first intimated that there was a slight chance that Barack Obama may be a scary Muslim by stating that she "had no reason to believe that he is anything other than a christian." Well, hell. Thanks Senator.

My incredulity, disappointment and anger increased with each new affront.But yesterday, during her keynote at the Demcratic National Convention, just like the 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling that she created, the icy wall that I have grown to separate me from her, has cracked. I do so hate to quote Jerry Magquire, but she had me at "hello." I was concerned, very concerned, that she would drag her feet in Tuesday night's speech, but she didn't. She opened her speech with the one of the strongest statements that I have heard from her. She continued by strongly invoking the name of Harriet Tubman and asking her supporters thinking of voting for McCain or not voting, what they actually voting for when they voted for her. Powerfully woman. This is what I've come to expect from Senator Clinton and last night, she went a little way toward melting the ice wall.

She could break the ice completely if she would just leave Bill.

An Anarchist's Dream

I arrived in Denver on the slightly overcast Sunday morning before the start of the “most historic political convention in the history of the United States.” It is being referred to in that way by almost everyone I meet. I began my tour by accidentally running into the Recreate 68 organization’s rally. It was a rally against the entire government of the United States. An anarchist’s dream. There was railing, ranting, copious use of the word “fuck” – as in “fuck the government.” Curiously, though, no “fuck the po-lice.” The passion with which the speakers spoke and the anti-establishment audience responded was palpable. These people, some young, some old, some dreadlocked, most tatted, struck me as an interesting group. They were at once fierce (as in Ward Churchill’s declaration that the U.S. cannot defeat imperialism, until it first reconciles itself to repairing the damage of its own) and timid, as evidenced by the many audience members wearing bandanas to conceal their identities. They spoke the language of an anti-establishment movement, all the while exhibiting the trappings of the establishment. Many of the audience hawked their wares, kerchiefs, posters, signs, to other audience members -- a most embarrassing display of capitalism in what was, at least in part, an anti-capitalist rally.

Rosa Clemente, Vice-Presidential candidate for the Green Party spoke passionately about injustice in not only the United States, but around the world. Most pointedly she talked about the injustice of the U.S. citizens of Puerto Rico not having the right to vote in presidential elections. However, it was her introduction of the revolutionary hip hop duo dead prez that really excited the crowd. And, indeed, they were crowd pleasers. They performed several songs before they ended with their most mainstream song, “Hip Hop.” It is one of my favorite songs too. It manages to peel away surface information to reveal some truths, while reinforcing the revolutionary zeal of the crowd. It was exciting for me to see and hear them. As a huge fan of conscious hip hop, it’s always a thing of beauty to hear the music elevated to something more than the main stream, stereotypical tropes of big booty women and hypermasculine bucks. In this setting though, I wasn’t really sure that the crowd truly understood the nature of revolution,

“You would rather have a Lexus, some justice, a dream or some substance?
A Beemer, a necklace or freedom?”

This lyric speaks to the superficiality of many U.S. citizens. Other lyrics include;

"Who shot Biggie Smalls?
If we don’t get them, they gon’ get us all
I’m down for runnin’ up on them crackers in they city hall”

I’m all for a good conspiracy theory and here we have one set to a really great beat. However, witnessing the audience of, mostly, Anglo people grooving to that last line was a little disturbing to me.

What I most recall is the same discussion that I have with students in each of my classes every semester. Each semester there is always one or two people who insist on the supremacy of individuality. It is, after all, the biggest myth of United States culture. Closely followed by the idea that women are “the weaker sex.” I recalled those inevitable discussions in which a few students dare to speak up and claim their individuality, whereupon I begin a series of queries regarding their habits, goals, dress, preferences, etc. When they begin to answer in group patterns, I ask them to address the issue of individuality again. I am not stating that we do not, at times, assert our individuality, but I am a sociologist. We observe the “individual’s” behavior within the groups to which they belong. The individuals that I observed at the rally on Sunday, were not as individual as they would like to think. They do, however, deviate significantly from the norm and it is that, and the response to it, that I observed on Sunday.

And speaking of deviance and social control. . . I am fairly certain that I had no idea that they made that many police and police paraphernalia. I’m not too sure who “They” is, but I hypothesize that “They” are responsible for the almost comically ridiculous number of enforcement around the Denver Convention Center, Pepsi Center and Invesco Field. It is one thing to see hundreds of police marching in a line in full riot gear in pictures from the 60’s, or on television. It is quite another to have them run past you in rhythmic time, closely followed by similarly dressed enforcement on horseback. Two young men, b-boys in fact, while watching the impending spectacle , started heckling the protestors when they made some small movement to comply with the second directive. They started besmirching the bravery of the marchers, calling them “pussies.” The next insult started to be “chicken shit” but it was cut off by the two of them yelping and jumping out of the way of the police on horseback. Chicken shit indeed.