New dealer shuffles the race card

Shortly after leaving the voting booth, 70-year-old community activist Donald E. Robinson had a thought: "Why do I have to be listed as African-American? Why can't I just be American?"

The answer used to be simple: because a race-obsessed society made the decision for him. But after Barack Obama's mind-bending presidential victory, there are rumblings of change in the nature of black identity and the path to economic equality for black Americans.

Before Tuesday, black identity and community were largely rooted in the shared experience of the struggle — real or perceived — against a hostile white majority. Even as late as Election Day, many blacks still harbored deep doubts about whether whites would vote for Obama.

Obama's overwhelming triumph cast America in a different light. There was no sign of the "Bradley Effect," when whites mislead pollsters about their intent to vote for black candidates. Nationwide, Obama collected 44 percent of the white vote, more than John Kerry, Al Gore or even Bill Clinton, exit polls show.

In Ohio, domain of the fabled working-class white swing voter, where journalists unearthed multitudes of racist quotes during the campaign, 46 percent of white voters backed Obama's bid to become the first black president, more than the three previous Democratic candidates.

Remember "we're votin'for the ni@@er"?

Obama did not define himself as a black candidate. So Robinson now feels free to define himself as something more than a black community activist.

"We've taken that next step. It's moving toward what we call universal brotherhood and sisterhood," Robinson said after voting for Obama in his northwest Washington, D.C., neighborhood. "We shouldn't be split and have all these divisions. That's why I say it's a bright day."

L. Douglas Wilder, the first black person to be elected governor of Virginia, shares Robinson's sense of American identity. "But I can tell you, when you say that, people take umbrage," Wilder said. "They believe that you are dissing them, putting blacks down. I don't have to tell you what I am, you can look at me and see that I'm not white. So what difference does it make?"

It took Obama's election, however, to make that idea real.

"It's immediately transformative," Wilder said. "It immediately changes the level of discussion. This thing is bigger than we thought it was. It's too big to get our arms around, and it grows exponentially each passing day. It sets us on a brand-new course."

It's honestly the most remarkable thing about the Obama phenomenon to me; the ability to have conversations about race, about race relations, about racial taboos with people of other races that simply weren't happening before.

To acknowledge the attitudes without being invested in the emotions. You know what I'm talkin' about, right?

Yet the past is a heavy burden to shed. U.S. Rep. James Clyburn of South Carolina, a former civil rights activist who was jailed during the protest marches of the 1960s, said that Obama's election does move America toward a "more perfect union." But when it comes to self-definition, he believes the current state of that union leaves him no choice.

"We don't come into this world defining ourselves," Clyburn said. "I was born into a world that had defined limits for me. I had to sit on the back of the bus, I couldn't attend the nearby school. My wife had to walk 2 1/2 miles to school, walk past the white school to get to the school for blacks. She didn't define that role for herself. That role was imposed upon us."

Certainly racism did not disappear after Obama's white votes were counted. No one is claiming that black culture and pride and community are no longer valuable. Many also dismiss the idea of a "post-racial" America as long as blacks and other minorities are still disproportionately afflicted by disparities in income, education, health, incarceration and single parenthood.

Ah yes. Still a long way to go in terms of economic and not just social justice.

So the prospect of a black population that is more of "America" than "black America" has profound implications — especially for the civil rights establishment that continues to battle for blacks who remain at the bottom. ...

"My grandmother told me when I was 5, 'Boy, if they ask you what you are, just tell them that you're an American," said Benjamin Jealous, the 35-year-old president of the NAACP. "The reality is that our heritage, our culture, our families, our community have been extremely important to us. It's always been our right, and in many ways what we fought for, to be seen simply as Americans."

Progress.

Update: "Mutts like me"...

"Obviously, a lot of shelter dogs are mutts like me," Obama said with a smile. "So whether we're going to be able to balance those two things, I think, is a pressing issue on the Obama household."

In his first postelection news conference, the man who will be president in just over two months described himself as a mutt as casually as he may have poked fun at his jump shot.

If he thought nothing of such a remark in his first news conference, doesn't that signal that over the next four years, the country is likely to hear more about race from the White House – and from the perspective of a black man – than it ever has before?

It's not necessarily that he will make a crusade about the issue once he takes office. There was little sign of that in his election campaign, in which he ran on issues like the economy with a broad appeal to all Americans.

But it does underscore that the president-elect clearly does not see race as a subject best sidestepped or discussed in hushed tones. To Obama, race in all its complications has long been a defining part of his life, and he is comfortable talking about it.

And many of the rest of us will get there, too.

Houston ATB (After the Bushes)

Former Texas Monthly writer Mimi Swartz, from the New Yorker blog:

It was a quiet evening for the precinct captains working the polls at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church, partly because so many people had voted early, but mostly because an era had already passed. The once modest and now grand St. Martin’s—it was converted, in 2004, into an updated, Texas-sized version of the Cathedral of Our Lady of Chartres—sits in Tanglewood, a once modest and now grand Houston neighborhood that has been, and is now, home to George and Barbara Bush. St. Martin’s, known here casually as “the Bushes’s church,” seemed to grow and expand with the family fortunes, and it was icing on the cake that its vast expansion coincided with George W. Bush’s reëlection. Houston, after all, is dotted with tributes to the Bushes, from public libraries to elementary schools to the major airport. But on this night, St. Martin’s, the polling place for the staunchly Republican precinct 234, seemed almost vestigial. The television cameras were nowhere to be seen—the Houston Chronicle hadn’t run the traditional photo of George and Bar heading proudly to the polls—and people seemed sanguine about the election’s outcome. They looked more like well-moderated ’41 Republicans than fire-breathing ’43 Republicans: whites who were prosperous but not flashy, the men in khakis, the women in sturdy, appropriate heels, younger people who looked slightly older than their years. The poll workers’ snacks were ample but reasonable: homemade cakes and brownies, tuna fish—canned with mayo, not seared—chips and dips, pimento cheese, and, of course, salsa. Voices were politely hushed.

Since the election of George W. Bush in 2000, Texas in general and Houston in particular have had the feel of occupied territory. The senior Bushes served as local proctors, whether they meant to or not, Barbara playing bad cop to the Senior George’s good. They thrived surrounded by courtiers in their beloved Tanglewood, and their appearance at social events (rare) and charity events (frequent) made everyone stand up just a little straighter, lest they be found wanting. Except for a handful of people who had really known “Junior” growing up—they were the ones who quietly admitted they awakened each morning stunned that “George” was President—it was accepted that the 43rd President was “a good guy,” and part of proving your loyalty involved ponying up for Barbara Bush’s literacy galas and 41’s birthday benefits. Book signings for assorted memoirs generally produced queues of fans that would rival those for Beatles- reunion tickets. Contributing to Neil Bush’s entrepreneurial ventures, such as Ignite!, an educational software company for “different” learners, was not a bad idea either. The Houston Independent School District got in on that one.

This loyalty took on a maniacal edge after 9/11, with what you might call the Dinner Party Litmus Test. Suddenly, at events in fancy, deeply Republican neighborhoods like River Oaks and Memorial, there were more closeted Democrats than closeted gays. To mention opposition to the war was to risk excommunication, not just from the Houston social scene, but from the kind of friendly business deals that grease the city’s wheels. The writer John Judis once sucked the air out of a room at an otherwise cheery River Oaks gathering by voicing the sentiment—not so uncommon elsewhere—that the Iraq war was a catastrophe. No one dared put a Kerry sticker on his or her car in 2004, lest a crazed Tanglewood carpool mom take aim with her Ford Explorer. “You weren’t allowed to speak. If you weren’t on the team, you might as well have left town,” one longtime social observer noted, still cautious about speaking for attribution.

Then, like the tide ebbing, or a glacier slowly melting, Houston—which, by the way, voted Democratic in both 2000 and 2004—came back to itself. Certainly Bush’s lame-duck status, in 2004, cleared the air a bit, as did the quagmire in Iraq. But it was Hurricane Katrina, in the fall of 2005, that made many here take a second look at their favorite first family. While the rest of Houston busily displayed its beneficent side—reaping copious international praise in the process—Barbara Bush looked around at the shell-shocked evacuees in the Astrodome and voiced her fear that they might stick around: “…so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them.” It wasn’t that she said it—people knew she talked that way in private—but this time she was quoted locally, and the spell was broken. The run-up to 2008 turned into an old-fashioned Houston free-for-all, and for the first time in ages, the Democratic Presidential candidate carried Harris County. Even if Tanglewood went for McCain, the people at St. Martin’s knew it was over. They packed their tuna fish in plastic containers, and went back home.

Latinos DID turn out ...

... it just could have been so much more and better here. First the good:

A record 10 million Latino voters helped carry President-elect Barack Obama to victory on Tuesday, supporting the Democrat by a 2-1 margin over Republican Sen. John McCain, according to a Pew Hispanic Center analysis of national exit poll data from Edison Media Research.

The overall percentage of Latino voters was in line with 2004, roughly 8 percent of all voters, the exit polls showed. But this time around, the vote was "more potent" because it swung Republican states to the Democrats, said Andy Hernandez, an Austin-based pollster who specializes in Latino politics.

"Latinos are flipping red states to blue," Hernandez said. "In this election, Latinos contributed to Virginia flipping. They were responsible for Nevada flipping. They contributed to Colorado flipping. And New Mexico went overwhelmingly Democratic, and Latinos were responsible for that."

Obama even had a strong performance in Florida, where Cuban-Americans have historically supported Republicans by large measures, taking 57 percent of the total Latino vote Tuesday, the exit polls showed.

And now the not-so-much here in H-Town:

In Texas, Obama received about 63 percent of the Latino vote, compared with McCain's 35 percent, Hernandez said. Latinos in the state cast an estimated 1.6 million votes, he said. They made up about 20 percent of Texas voters, according to the Pew analysis.

In Harris County, the Latino vote fell short of some expectations amid lower-than-predicted overall turnout (although African-Americans came to the polls in record numbers).

"I'm a little disappointed looking at the (local) numbers that more Latinos didn't come out and vote," said Maria Isabel, a 53-year-old naturalized Cuban-American who helped organize for Obama in Houston. "But my family voted. My children voted. My mother is a Republican from the Reagan days, and she voted for Barack Obama."

I would rather focus on what Democrats did well, so perhaps the local party can get the feedback necessary to improve Hispanic turnout in Houston for 2010 -- when we're really going to need it.

I can't accept that Barack Obama at the top of the ticket, and not Hillary Clinton, was the difference (since it wasn't anywhere else in the United States). We had high-profile Hispanics running in Harris County; Rick Noriega and Linda Yanez and Adrian Garcia all near the top of the ballot, and Garcia won more votes than any Harris County Democrat. There is something we're not doing effectively enough locally to drive Latino Democrats to the polls, and I really want to know what it is.

McCain-Palin: the recriminations *underwear update*

RNC lawyers are on their way to Alaska to audit Palin's wardrobe expenses.

“I think it was a difficult relationship,” said one top McCain campaign official, who, like almost all others interviewed, asked to remain anonymous. “McCain talked to her occasionally.”

Some of this is the typical Monday-morning quarterbacking when you lose. Some is SNL satire-worthy:

The disputes between the campaigns centered in large part on the Republican National Committee’s $150,000 wardrobe for Ms. Palin and her family, but also on what McCain advisers considered Palin’s lack of preparation for her disastrous interview with Katie Couric of CBS News and her refusal to take advice from McCain’s campaign.

But behind those episodes may be a greater subtext: anger within the McCain camp that Palin harbored political ambitions beyond 2008.

As late as Tuesday night, a McCain adviser said, Palin was pushing to deliver her own speech just before McCain’s concession speech, even though vice-presidential nominees do not traditionally speak on election night. But Palin met up with McCain with text in hand. She was told no by Mark Salter, one of McCain’s closest advisers, and Steve Schmidt, McCain’s top strategist.

On Wednesday, two top McCain campaign advisers said that the clothing purchases for Palin and her family were a particular source of outrage for them. As they portrayed it, Ms. Palin had been advised by Nicolle Wallace, a senior McCain aide, that she should buy three new suits for the Republican National Convention in St. Paul in September and three additional suits for the fall campaign. The budget for the clothes was anticipated to be from $20,000 to $25,000, the officials said.

Instead, in a public relations debacle undermining Palin’s image as an everywoman “hockey mom,” bills came in to the Republican National Committee for about $150,000, including charges of $75,062 at Neiman Marcus and $49,425 at Saks Fifth Avenue. The bills included clothing for Palin’s family and purchases of shoes, luggage and jewelry, the advisers said.

The advisers described the McCain campaign as incredulous about the shopping spree and said Republican National Committee lawyers were likely to go to Alaska to conduct an inventory and try to account for all that was spent.

That's not even the funny part. And no, I don't mean the crankyanking that happened when Palin thought she was talking to the president of France, either:

At the GOP convention in St. Paul, Palin was completely unfazed by the boys' club fraternity she had just joined. One night, Steve Schmidt and Mark Salter went to her hotel room to brief her. After a minute, Palin sailed into the room wearing nothing but a towel, with another on her wet hair. She told them to chat with her laconic husband, Todd. "I'll be just a minute," she said.

You realize what this means, don't you? It means we get to see Tina Fey in just a towel this weekend. Hawte.

Update: Is Africa a country or a continent, Sarah?

Update II: "Wasilla hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus from coast to coast". Sounds more like a couple of grifters to me:

On top of the $150,000 first outlined in Federal Election Commission filings, Palin spent "tens of thousands of dollars" on additional clothing, makeup and jewelry for herself and her family, including $40,000 in luxury goods for her husband, Todd, our colleague Michael Shear reports. The campaign was charged for silk boxer shorts, spray tanners and 13 suitcases to carry all the designer clothes, according to two GOP insiders.

"The shopping continued after the convention in Minneapolis, it continued all around the country," one source said. "She was still receiving shipments of custom-designed underpinnings up to her 'Saturday Night Live' performance" in October. Sources said expenses were put on the personal credit cards of low-level Palin staffers and discovered when they asked party officials for reimbursement.