November 2, 2008
“Lord, give me the courage to vote for this black man.”
An older Latino man spoke these words to me in Spanish this morning while I was knocking on doors for the Obama campaign in a heavily Latino neighborhood in Milwaukee.
I was nearly finished with my canvass when I encountered the man leaving his house and stepping onto the sidewalk. The naturalized American citizen is a fixture in Milwaukee’s south side Latino community and I’ve patronized his business a dozen or more times in recent years. (Although we’ve met several times he didn’t recognize me, one of thousands of customers who’ve visited his business.)
I greeted him in Spanish and spoke a few words about my knocking on doors and talking to his neighbors on behalf of the Obama campaign. He replied that he is really torn about whom to vote for. He honors John McCain’s service to this country, but in recent days McCain reminds him of some of the old PRI candidates in his native Mexico.
He went on to praise Obama as a man with good, well-articulated ideas and a team of smart people around him. But then in a very soft voice, nearly a whisper, he confided that he’s worried that Obama might be like some of the other “morenos that we’re always hearing about”, and asked me if I know the kinds of people he’s talking about. He quickly re-stated his praise of Obama, and emphatically added that it is time for serious change in this country. And after all, he asked me, isn’t Congressman Luis Gutierrez of Illinois, a true champion for citizenship education for newly arrived immigrants, a fellow Democrat like Obama?
And then he asked himself out loud if he is courageous enough to vote for a black man.
With deep respect, I told him that I understand his concerns but that the time is now to work to end to this racism. Surely, as a Mexican immigrant to this country, he has felt the sting of discrimination. He nodded, offering that today is the Day of the Dead, a most sacred day for Mexicans, and a day to reflect on and celebrate the lives of those who have gone before us. I handed him a piece of campaign literature, in Spanish, and opined that nothing will ever change if we do nothing.
“Votamos el martes, verdad?” he asked me. (“We vote on Tuesday, right?”) I replied affirmatively, and he grimaced.
There on the sidewalk, pointing to a picture of Barack Obama, he voiced a prayer: “Señor Dios, da me el valor de votar para este moreno.” (“Lord God, give me the courage to vote for this black man.”) I made a quick Sign of the Cross, and he climbed in his car, heading off to Mass.
