May 2016 – The Dreaded Liberal

The Drunk Uncle

Our first guest contribution comes from our esteemed colleague, The Balding Conservative.
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Every family has one. If you think your family doesn’t, then take a good hard look in the mirror because chances are it’s you. For those of us aware of the concept, the Drunk Uncle is a fixture of family gatherings. You can always count on his attendance at the annual Thanksgiving feast and 4^th of July cookout. While his presence is not always celebrated, it is expected, it is tolerated, and it is mitigated.

The Drunk Uncle embodies everything we love and hate about these assemblies. He is the person to make an inappropriate comment on your cousin’s recent weight gain, and most likely elevate the volume level at the dinner table. He’s the one you can count on to cause an awkward silence or two, and to say something just to get a reaction out of his sister in law.

He can be a hassle to accommodate, he can be a pain in the ass, but we put up with him. He is family, he is blood, he is kin.

He’s also really f*!#ing entertaining.

Once you get past the inappropriate comments, and boisterous proclamations, you have to give him credit for the entertainment value he brings to the literal and figurative table. He says what he is thinking, and he doesn’t give two sh**s whether or not it is appropriate table fodder. In fact, most often the majority of attendees secretively enjoy his presence, and look forward to the shenanigans every year. He is a refreshing addition to a potentially droll situation.

The problem with this is that the Drunk Uncle paradox rarely translates to anything else in our lives. Take him out of the family circle and you must constantly be on guard that he does not embarrass you, or the family, in front of the world.

Donald Trump is the Drunk Uncle of the Conservative Party.

Let that sink in for a minute. The man that we determined should be the voice of our party, out of the 17 people that showed up for dinner, is the our Drunk Uncle.

I’m not saying that any one of the other 16 dinner guests were the ideal representatives: the one that it’s just understood that carves the turkey and says grace. But still, we went with the Drunk Uncle.

In a way, I get it. People were tired with the status quo, the redundancy and predictability of usual candidates wore on folks, and they wanted a breath of fresh (different) air. The notions of “he says what’s on his mind” and “he doesn’t care what others think” were novelties that appealed to a lot of people. This is also a very scary concept.

I’d like to think that Trump is a smart man, that now that he has the nod he’ll dial it back. He had to assume this persona to separate himself from such a large field. Maybe we’ll see a shift now that he needs to win over a larger audience. The problem is that he can’t un-say all of the things that he did to get to this place. You can’t erase that, or hope people forget in this day and age. The fact is that he’s said certain things that were insensitive, ignorant, and hurtful to many people. That most people with a brain will see right through whatever new stance he might take in the future. And who’s to say that if he is elected, he might not say something off the cuff that incites the American people, or the world. If the Drunk Uncle is the guy who you’d find throwing firecrackers in the backyard with the kids, Trump is the leader that would drop a sound bite that could set off a firestorm. In the confines of a family gathering this could be contained and dealt with, on a worldwide stage this is a terrifying concept.

I love our country. I trust that the men who set up our government 240 years ago made it so that no single person could do irreparable harm over the course of 4 years. What I am most scared of is with the current state of things- racial tension at home, religious conflicts worldwide – that we are sitting on a powder keg. And we just chose to give our Drunk Uncle, outfitted with a handful of fireworks, the nod to lead the family prayer.

Donald Trump and the Prisoner of Social Democracy Part 1

I remember sharing a picture at some point during the 2012 general election cycle. It was a profile headshot of Hillary Clinton with “2016” in an alternating red, white, and blue in a large font towards the bottom of the image. I remember thinking this is going to be the next president of the United States.

2015 came around and as expected Secretary Clinton announced her candidacy. I was an early adopter though not without controversy. I thought to myself there isn’t going to be any other candidate that will seriously challenge her. Though we had some significant differences regarding policy, it seemed that she would make the most sense as there was no other candidate with any reasonable expectation to best her during the primary season.

Enter Bernie Sanders.

I mean. Come on. This guy was everything a lot of us on the young left have wanted for a long long time but never thought we would see. I don’t think I’ve seen a campaign stay more on message in my relatively few years of paying attention to politics. He’s probably the closest thing to all the ideas we naively projected onto Barack Obama eight years ago. Bernie Sanders has been an outstanding representative of the people – placing a megaphone to voices often drowned out by money, influence, and conventional wisdom. His ads are inspiring. Like. Really inspiring. I believe he has been the only candidate in this race that has maintained an unwavering voice of support for working class people. I think he has been an incredibly important figure in our nation’s political history and a major influence on the Democratic Party for years to come. Unfortunately, though Bernie Sanders is a lot of things, the Democratic Party’s Nominee for President of the United States isn’t going to be one of them.

Bernie Sanders is that summer fling that ends up lasting longer than it should have and when it finally ends both parties end up walking away with hurt feelings. Bernie Sanders is that Chinese food that was absolutely amazing the night you ordered it but every time you go back to it you know you’re engaging in some risky business. Bernie Sanders is that awesome new spot that plays really fun oldies and all kinds of different music from different eras and has a great happy hour but then in just a few short months is overrun with too many people that are just way more hip than you and exclusively plays trap music (lookin at you Brick House). While the intarwebs is an amazing hub of all the world’s knowledge, social media and Senator Sanders’ supporters have become a volatile combination – one that my anecdotal experience, though likely unrepresentative, has left a really bad taste in my mouth. Particularly as a black dude who at least likes to think of himself as some sort of feminist.

I never paid much attention to the Bernie Bro narrative. Largely because it was just that: a narrative. But time and time again the sheer vitriol levied against Secretary Clinton left me awe-struck. To the point where now I just make up horrible things no “real American” would ever do and blame Hillary for funzies. My favorite so far has been, “Well Hillary Clinton did punch George Washington in the balls that one time”. What’s worse – the racial dynamic that has played out during this election cycle has inspired a range of emotions from empowered to heart broken. It’s annoying enough to have your political identity hijacked and defined by what demographic you belong to, but it is another thing entirely to go from attempting to defend Senator Sanders from leftist Black activists and Clinton supporters alike to finally understanding what this was all about after experiencing it myself.

After the democratic primary in New York I swiftly (and perhaps shortsightedly) took to social media to declare Sanders’ leftist anti-establishment insurgency officially over. And just as I did a little over a year ago I have once again shifted to make clear my allegiance to Secretary Clinton. Several acquaintances appropriately pointed out there was still much to achieve for the Sanders campaign and dropping out just then might be premature. This is probably correct. Yet the refusal to acknowledge just how unlikely it is that Sanders will be the nominee feels eerily reminiscent of the sort of lock step mentality that grips the most zealous far right tea partier. This sort of dogmatic hive mind mentality that has overtaken his most fervent fans is just as pervasive on the left as it is on the right if not worse. Aren’t we supposed to be the reasonable ones? Perhaps the most bothersome element of Sanders and his supporters is the cult of personality generated around his candidacy. The messianic nature that has been attributed to him by the die-hards is at best eye-roll worthy and at worst vomit inducing. Speaking ill of Senator Sanders on social media is nearly as dangerous as speaking ill of Beyonce. Don’t try either at home kids.

But, time heals all wounds. Or so they say. And though this race has had its ugly moments in actuality it has been a relatively mild one and more substantive than I’ve cared to give it credit for. At least as these things tend to go. I expect Secretary Clinton will continue steadfastly to the convention and be named the nominee despite threats from the Sanders camp. I’ve told myself she’s going to be OK. I want to believe she’s going to be OK.

Enter Donald Trump.

An Introduction

Sometimes I’m not even sure if I like my locs.

I’m extremely self-conscious of them. I often find myself peering into any reflective surface hoping no one will notice and lamenting as to their thickness or lack thereof. Their texture, thanks to my not-really-that-kinky-but-just-enough hair, seems too soft. I am constantly bothering with the band I use to tie them back and keep them out of my face. This is probably extremely noticeable I think to myself. But I can’t help it. Trivial as it may seem I can think of few things that cause me more latent stress.…with the exception of the rise of Donald Trump. But we’ll save that for a later post.

Sometimes I find that I am in love with my locs. I can think of few things that become more of an immediate physical identifier than one’s hair (sorry to my follicle challenged friends out there). They’ve become a major part of my identity even though it hasn’t even been three years since I’ve started them. I often find that my hair is the one of the first things anyone will notice about me. I often find that I appreciate that. Even though I also do my best to fully appreciate the now ten year old message of empowerment from the great India.Arie. Particularly female empowerment. Particularly black female empowerment. In a world where this is the reality there isn’t enough of that out here. Women of color are constantly battling what seems like a never ending assault rooted in either racism, misogyny, or both. I do my best to recognize my privilege.

Given these parameters one can imagine what it might feel like to have to consider cutting my hair in order to have a successful legal career. It’s an idea I find particularly discomforting as I plan to embark on what’s been described by some as the greatest experience of their lives and by others the worst.

The other idea I find perhaps more discomforting and much more intellectually challenging: that I may need to alter a much deeper element of my identity – my politics.

It probably isn’t necessary to immediately delve too deeply into all of the challenges associated with being a young black man with dreadlocs attempting to successfully complete a legal education, and then using that legal education to successfully challenge institutional elements of our society that often make it hard for young black men with dreadlocs among other things. There will be plenty of time for that. But you get the picture. Or at least I’ll consider it my job to make it so that eventually…you will.

It is necessary to explain that I hope to use this space to be able to adequately express my thoughts in a way that will invoke some damn good conversation. I think it’s also necessary to make it very clear that my identity and life experience absolutely influence my world view. So I felt I would use the moniker The Dreaded Liberal to pay homage to my heritage, my identity, and my culture. Who I am and what I’m about. Fully recognizing the etymology behind both terms and fully not giving af.

I also want to use this space to talk about other stuff besides race and politics. Culture, sports, music, television, film, among other things. You know. Fun internet stuff with my friends. Hopefully I can find a group of folks that are interested in contributing and we can have all sorts of columns on all sorts of things.

I have no idea how often I’ll be posting. I have no idea how long it will last. I have no idea if this will be any good. Most of the time starting a blog has come up, the conversation usually goes something like:

Them: You should write a blog.

Me: Yeah but you need to be a good writer to do that.

So. I guess we’ll see. Apparently in order to be a decent attorney having a rudimentary grasp of the English language is important.

Well now we can’t say I didn’t try.