One of the most distressing patterns over the past several months has been the spectacle of many African-American electeds either endorsing Hillary Clinton over Barack Obama, or remaining neutral.  

Barack Obama is not just the most talented African-American politician of his generation; he is not just the most talented politician of his generation, bar none.  What, in fact, his candidacy offers is a tidal wave of political, cultural, and yes, racial insurgence that could very well change the course of American history. 

Why these officials would feel so beholden to the Clintons in normal years I regret, but understand.  How they could ignore this moment now, with Barack having decisively won Iowa, is simply beyond me.  Even Jesse Jackson, Sr., has offered only a tepid endorsement of his fellow Chicagoan—so long as he has free reign to screw him in the media whenever he pleases.  And Al Sharpton?  Regarding the most compelling African-American presidential candidacy in history?  Neutral.  Right.

Today's NYT has an interesting piece on how black elected officials are grappling with whether or not to endorse Barack Obama in the coming weeks.  Rep. Artur Davis of Alabama, a longtime African-American Obama supporter, sums it up:

“For black elected officials who either stayed out of this race or have supported Senator Clinton, they’re in a very dicey position right now,” Mr. Davis said, “because their black constituents are about to move overwhelmingly toward Barack Obama.”  Outright defections may be unlikely, he said, but he predicted some black Clinton supporters would become “magically unavailable when the Clinton campaign calls them.”

Even more interesting to me than the elected officials, however, is how African-American voters will decide to mark their ballots in the remaining weeks of the primary season.

A few months ago I found myself at the end of a very fun, racially mixed wedding reception in Queens.  Waiting for my cab home outside the wedding hall, I couldn't help but overhear a group of 20-something African-American guests discussing the upcoming race.  Being the political junkie that I am, and feeling a little loose off the wedding cheer and champagne (among other spirits), I skipped over and plopped myself into their debate.  What I heard immediately was "Hillary, Hillary, Hillary."  After some go-rounds, it became clear these young African-American voters were Hillary supporters, to the person. 

When I asked, perhaps somewhat presumptuously, what they thought of Barack Obama, I was a little shocked.  At first, a couple of them didn't know who I was talking about.  After some background, they were like, "Oh, right, that guy...well, he's not going to win."  The more I described him, the more skeptical they looked.  The more I talked about his heritage, his brilliance, his resume, the crossover appeal of his candidacy, the more they started to look concerned. 

It was a look I had never seen from anyone I'd discussed Barack with before.  I could not, however, put my finger on it, and for some reason, they were not quite willing to tell this stranger what it was that made them so opposed to Obama's candidacy, or what made them appear increasingly grave the more I discussed it. 

I remember leaving the wedding thinking "Geez, is this whole 'Clinton is the first black president' nonsense actually taken that seriously in the black community?  I'm as white as they get (as the active Marine in the group verbally reminded me).  What do I know about why some black people won't countenance voting for the most viable black candidate in history?"

The day after Obama won the Iowa caucuses, an African-American co-worker of mine came into the office with a glow on her face.  I felt funny, because I instantly knew why she was glowing, and then felt simplistic and condescending for thinking that I knew why she was glowing.

Yet the first words out of her mouth were "You look like you stayed up as late as I did last night!  Oh, my God, isn't it amazing?" 

And I said to her, "Yes, it is.  It's one of the most exciting moments in my life, for sure.  I think it was history that was made, right in front of our very eyes last night!" 

And she said, "I know, and I'm just so...excited, and a little confused, because...I didn't really know a lot about Obama up until last night.  And I stayed up late with my husband, and I watched all of the candidate's speeches, and I was actually really inspired by what Huckabee said, and I thought that Clinton was really terrific—even losing, she still said wonderful things about our country.  And I felt so hopeful after even that." 

"And then Barack Obama came on and he absolutely blew my mind.  And I found myself getting so excited, because he reminded me so much of what I had been taught that Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy were like, and I got so excited that I started getting really scared.  I got really scared about how well Obama had done, because I really, really don't want him to get killed."

I remember spending some time that morning putting on the brave face, and reassuring her that Barack was well-protected, and that he already had a Secret Service detail, etc., etc.  But I left that conversation reeling.  Scared a little bit myself, no doubt.  And feeling just horrible.  Horrible that American history had made this a reality: that our heroes, serving the cause of racial justice, have been systematically assassinated by their fellow Americans. 

I also, conversely, felt oddly detached from those tragedies.  I realized then that I have never been nearly as close to them as people like my co-worker, and the guests at the wedding party had, in the way that their lives were so often wound up in the fates of figures like King, or Kennedy, or in the case of their ancestors, Lincoln.  And these figures were constantly getting killed off!  Was it a running joke in the black community that guys like Obama were not to be believed in—not judged by the content of their character, but by the strength of their security detail?!

I really hope that all voters, black and white, can find a way to believe in Obama's candidacy.  But I am beginning to understand, at least a tiny bit more, why our country's terrifying racial history is a powerful antidote to the audacity of hope.