A Different Kind of Angry White Guy

Posted on January 16, 2004 in Campaign 2004 Identity Liberals & Progressives

I live on a hilltop where clouds collide against the walls of the houses. Early in the morning fog leaves little to see beyond the condominium across the street except two dark clubs that I know are eucalyptus trees rising just a few yards behind the house. During the night the clouds come to earth and break upon our round top. The sun boils the last orphan molecules into flight or retreat into the earth. By midmorning the sky clears. A winter’s day in California.

I feel frustrated these days by the news. Iowa Democrats watch anti-Dean commercials and decide that the man who was put in his position of prominence by the enthusiasm, hard work, and small contributions of working and middle class voters is “unelectable” just as they decided that Braun was unelectable. So much rides on a lack of faith in Democratic politics. Caucus goers — the activist elite of the Iowa Democrats — do not trust their fellow Americans not to vote on hatred such as that evoked by this commercial:

“I think Howard Dean should take his tax-hiking, government-expanding,
latte-drinking, sushi-eating, Volvo-driving, New York Times-reading,
body-piercing, Hollywood-loving, left-wing freak show back to
Vermont – where it belongs.”

I haven’t even endorsed Howard Dean and I feel attacked by this. They hate me without knowing me. They run from me as if I radiated death like Plutonium. And the question returns: if they allow Bush to choose their candidate for them with commercials like this, if they won’t stand by me, why should I stand by whoever they choose in the Fall?

A few wealthy white men in blue suits will snicker “Now you know how it feels to be a woman/person of color/angry white male.” They gang up on me as if it has been me whose policies and political ideology have brought us to this disaster in international relations and economy known as America today. There’s no new revelation in this: I’ve been put through it all my life for being “smart”, for possessing a critical mind, for being a pacifist. I’ve probably been on the “outside” longer and with more pain than the war liberals and the angry white boys. I’ve been beat up by bullies who did not like the fact that I allied myself with the “niggers” and the “greasers”, because I worked for Democratic candidates. I have worn out the soles of my shoes and my voice by walking precincts for and talking to people about Democratic candidates. I have paid my dues.

As the Democratic campaign to unseat Bush dwindles to a stop before it even gets started, I look out into the fog which is beginning to settle for the night and ask “When are they going to stop clubbing me? When is someone going to be angry for me? When does this nonsense clear?”

I blog about my feelings here and release them, knowing that they’re going to make all the noise of the fog creeping in.