^{by Tom Head, About.com Guide to Civil Liberties}

Last night, Barack Obama became the first black man to win the Iowa caucus. He seems to have a fighting chance of becoming the first black major-party nominee, and--if current poll numbers hold--the first black president.

I've been mulling on the Barack Obama candidacy for some time. Although I described Bill Richardson as the better civil liberties candidate from a platform perspective, my personal endorsement went to Obama fairly early on. It wasn't a hard decision. He's the only activist in the race, the only former constitutional law professor in the race, the only former civil rights attorney in the race, his memoirs (Dreams from My Father) made the New York Times bestseller list 12 years ago, and, frankly, he holds the distinction of being the only viable Democratic candidate who can communicate in a conversational way with the American people. One of the reasons Republicans tend to do so well in national elections, I think, is because they're better at nominating presidential candidates who don't sound like they're reading from the same set of focus-group tested cue cards, over and over again.

I'm not saying that everybody is obligated to support Obama, but the anti-Obama arguments I've read over the past months are fascinating. He's seen as too black to get elected ("Is America ready for a black president?"), but too white to be authentic ("Is Obama black enough?"). He's seen as too squeaky-clean and stiff, but a former Clinton staffer criticized him as unelectable because of his teenage drug use. (The fact that the current president used the same drugs as Obama, and probably several drugs that Obama probably never got around to, doesn't seem to matter.) He's seen as simultaneously too conservative and too radical. People dub him "inexperienced," a term seldom used to describe less qualified opponents, and imply that voters are enthusiastic about him because he's a black man--that he's a political "quota hire," in effect.

I don't really know what to make of all this. On the one hand, I think any candidate for president must be fair game for criticism--and this includes talking about a candidate's persona, character, and qualifications. But I can't get past the fact that all of these criticisms resemble criticisms that I've seen made of other successful people of color in the past. I doubt there are many powerful black men and women, for example, who haven't experienced the "too white"/"too black" sandwich--because that's how American culture tends to punish black men and women for success.

And if Obama can be a subject of the same old race discourse, then it's likely that his successes and failures will be extrapolated, too. If he's elected, then many folks will say that racism can't possibly be a problem anymore because, after all, we have a black president. And if he isn't elected, then conventional wisdom will immediately suggest once again that black candidates aren't electable--which tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy (see "Racism and Electability"). Too Sense blogger dnA writes (in "Further Thoughts About Iowa"):

What makes me anxious is that regardless of the outcome, our national conversation will inevitably not be just about Obama, but about black people in general. It's just the way it works in this country. Obama the winner or Obama the loser, when the conversation happens, they won't just be talking about Obama; they will be talking about all of us.

If Barack Obama becomes president, then the most recognizable person in the country will be a black man. The person who represents the United States in the eyes of the world will be a black man. The face that children see on television, addressing the nation, will be that of a black man. And while this would not have a magical effect, while it would not eliminate institutional racism overnight, its cultural effects--on race relations, on black culture, on white perceptions of black culture--could be immeasurable.

See also:

• Barack Obama on Civil Liberties