Chiara, Dante, Chirlane, and Bill de Blasio
Was reading The New York Times this morning, and found this article of interest. “Many Black New Yorkers Are Seeing de Blasio’s Victory as Their Own” It opened with quotes, from black folks around town.
A black janitor in Brooklyn almost shouted out the name when asked about his vote in the mayoral race. Bill de Blasio, he said, “knows my struggle.”
In the Bronx, some African-American voters defaulted to a shorthand: “the man with the black wife.” Nobody thought it necessary to explain whom they meant.
And in a Brooklyn housing project, a lifelong resident said he was tired of mayors who, in his mind, had pitted blacks against whites. Mr. de Blasio, he declared, “is black and white.”
The quote that stood out and caused me to think was this one:
“His biracial family represents so many things and possibilities, too many to even get into,” said Leon Ellis, a Harlem restaurateur. “When people saw his family, they felt, ‘Here is someone who understands and relates to me on a level on which I can be comfortable.’ ”
Long before I became a cultural anthropologist by training I was already exposed to multiple “other” cultures and sub-cultures due to family politics and geographical moves, as well as the “mixed” nature of our family at home. This early immersion into differences allowed me to become open to same. Not always comfortable at first contact, but my toolkit or knapsack for survival soon included “openness” and “listening” as well as “not judging”. Throw in enjoyment. Knowing when I’m uncomfortable or not at ease then presents me with an internal dialogue-how much of it is “me”-my preconceived notions of culture, class, and gender, and why am I reacting? What then am I to do about it?
I cringe every time I hear the canard, “One of my best friends is (fill in the blank with black, gay, latino, asian, jewish… yadda, yadda) as a way to shut-down or dismiss notions of prejudgement or bigotry. And yet, there is a kernel of truth embedded in that tired phrase, because if one is truly a friend, truly open to the intimacy of friendship, brother and sisterhood, one must have developed some understanding and acceptance of both difference and common humanity. On a level playing field of face-to-face and beyond surface social interaction and discourse.
No matter where we live, if we are to develop coalitions between and among people of diverse ages, racial, ethnic, class and gender identities, we need to address comfort levels and zones.
I’ve often talked about my reasons for adopting this sig line quote:“If you’re in a coalition and you’re comfortable, you know it’s not a broad enough coalition”, from Bernice Johnson Reagon
In that “Big Tent” we call the Democratic Party, in building “mass movements”, “progressive coalitions” or in “grassroots organizing” not enough attention is paid to this question of comfortability.
Black Kos is, in and of itself, one of those zones. A place in cyberspace to rub typeface together on a cozy porch, the home of some black folks who have welcomed all comers willing to relax for a while, discuss the days doings, both political and personal. Steeped in history, grounded in the present, and looking towards the future.
We need more places in real life (and online) where the walls between and among us are challenged, and where we can learn and experience new perceptions. Few people who live in monochrome, mono-class areas are going to up and move. Take a good look at groups you belong to, your workplace, your neighborhood. Assess their demographics. If none offer opportunities to get out of a box, try thinking of ways to expand your borders. It may not be comfortable at first, but the rewards outweigh the dis-ease.
Some folks reading here may not have grown up with black culture(s) with all its nuances. My “blackness” is not a matter of skin tone-we run the gamut from beige to ebony. Blackness for me is barbershops and beauty parlors, Harlem bars, do-wops on the corner, jazz, r&b, and gospel, church ladies in big flowered hats holding funeral fans, rappers in the Bronx and bourgies heading out to Sag Harbor or up to Oak Bluffs for the summer, code-shifting from standardized “white” speech to BVE seamlessly. It is having kin “down-south”, calling unrelated folks auntie and uncle, playing word games with rhythm and rhyme. It is food and competitions each year over potato salad and macaroni and cheese casseroles. The collard greens debates are endless. It is a history of pain and laughter, of shared sufferings and triumphs. It is an odd combination of class solidarity and ambition to move up in life. Scratch a black corporate type and you’ll find that grandma was more than likely a domestic worker, and grandaddy was a Pullman porter. It is the black of black power, black pride and Black Panthers, laced with James Brown horn sections, and doing the bus-stop at a club. It is the stress of feeling racism, overt and covert-daily-and learning to brush it off, shrug and rarely let it stop you unless an incident or two turns it to boiling rage. My black worlds expanded to include creole gumbos in Baton Rouge, and roti, callalou and peas and rice in West Indian neighborhoods in Brooklyn. It became the Afro-Caribbean-accented sibilant sounds of spoken Spanglish in El Barrio, and the hiss of Puerto Rican mamis aiming a “chancleta” at an unruly child, while serving up Cafe Bustelo and rice and beans. Spanish Harlem’s black traditions of bomba and plena expanded black for me to include Celia Cruz’ Cuba, and took me to the religious Candomblé terreiros (temples) of Brazil.
Some of us, who are black have little or no contact with those who are lumped together as “whites”. I’ve never quite figgered out what “white” is. I rarely hear “white culture” addressed unless by white supremacists. If by white culture one means U.S. culture that is surely a misnomer, since so much of U.S. American culture has black roots. I’m more familiar and comfortable with those groups who have an ethnic identity, though classed as white, because New York City has always had Italian, Irish, Greek, Jewish, Polish enclaves. I’ve lived in them all-from Bensonhurst to Astoria. That only covers white folks. I lived in Chinatown and in South Asian Jackson Heights too.
I’ve been having some interesting discussions with my students recently, some of whom have never lived outside their monochrome towns in upstate NY or Long Island, or who come from inner-city barrios and ‘hoods. For many of them, the campus experience is the first time they’ve had the opportunity to room with, eat with, go to classes with and develop friendships outside of what they were raised with. It is not always comfortable for them. But most are working at it, and we’ve had a spate of racial and gender incidents on campus that have spurred further discourse.
That brings me back to the de Blasio victory in NYC. Sometimes a political victory has more meaning than simply the votes that are cast, and the finances that back campaigns.
Back in May in a post “The race to Gracie Mansion” I attached a poll, asking the question of readers of Daily Kos, “Which Democrat is your pick for the primary?”
The results were interesting but not predictive.
Christine Quinn 20% 692 votes
Bill de Blasio 18% 619 votes
Bill Thompson 1% 61 votes
John Liu 3% 104 votes
Anthony Weiner 52% 1729 votes
Sal F. Albanese 1% 36 votes
Ceceilia Berkowitz 1% 43 votes
Erick Salgado 0% 15 votes
Randy Credico 0% 24 votes3325 votes
I picked de Blasio. Sure, I looked at his positions, listened to the debates, but something told me he had the ability to bring New Yorker’s together that went beyond his positions.
He won in a landslide-73.7% to 24.9% for Lhota.
Compare that to:
2009 Bloomberg 50.7% Bill Thompson 46.3%
2005 Bloomberg 58.38% Freddy Ferrer 39.01%
2001 Bloomberg 50.3% Mark Green 47.9%
1997 Rudy Giuliani 55.16% Ruth Messinger 42.93%
1993 Giuliani 50.7% David Dinkins 48.3%
Beyond simple political slogans, party platforms, and stances, my gut said New Yorkers were no longer comfortable with Bloomberg-so that knocked his clone Quinn out, nor would community folks embrace Weiner-who is neither comfortable nor truthful (though he had the attention of all the media). New Yorker’s, even those who are not black or latino, were made “uncomfortable” about “stop and frisk” (thanks to the hard work of progressive groups and organizations).
But at a deeper level New Yorker’s, who live cheek to jowl in a “city that never sleeps” who ride subways and buses with an eclectic mix of folks, whose cab drivers hail from all over the world, whose small neighborhoods for the most part-even if they are ethnic enclaves-sit next to, or border difference, found comfort in a hope for a future community that is reflected in the de Blasio family. Black and white, West Indian and African, German and Italian, LBGT friendly (Chirlane was an open lesbian in earlier years) struck a chord in many voters-beyond party rhetoric.
I believed then that my home town would embrace moving forward, after many decades of autocracy and fear-mongering. After almost twelve years of Bloomberg and eight with hater Giuliani New Yorker’s have looked for both comfort and comfortably and are reaching for progress in that regard.
Here’s hoping for a better tomorrow for New Yorker’s. Congratulation to Mayor-elect de Blasio and his family, and the thousands of his campaign workers. Congrats to the citizens of NYC. I realize no mayor is going to be able to “fix” all of the city’s problems. But New Yorker’s being comfortable with this man and his family in the top spot says plenty to me.
Though no longer living in my home town, now peering down to it from the Catskill mountains to the north, I will always be a New York City girl.
Cross-posted from Black Kos
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