Thread: Obama's words in his books.....

I have always wondered why Obama says he is a black man when he is half white. Why doesn't he say he is a white man? Convenience again I guess?

I agree, the only way we can stop Obama is vote McCain, but I certainly can't bring myself to vote for this liberal either.

Originally Posted by bigtex

I have always wondered why Obama says he is a black man when he is half white. Why doesn't he say he is a white man? Convenience again I guess?

I agree, the only way we can stop Obama is vote McCain, but I certainly can't bring myself to vote for this liberal either.

THIS IS A NIGHTMARE! WE ARE STUCK IN A REAL CESS HOLE.

We have 4 choices. Vote for McCain, Obama, a write-in, or dont vote. Its a PATHETIC situation for Amercians to be in.

Originally Posted by butterbean

THIS IS A NIGHTMARE! WE ARE STUCK IN A REAL CESS HOLE.

We have 4 choices. Vote for McCain, Obama, a write-in, or dont vote. Its a PATHETIC situation for Amercians to be in.

I sure do agree with you! America, we have a problem.

In the same vein of Obama's books, the below excerpt from Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, might provide some further insight. This is an exchange between Obama and his estranged half-brother Mark. I think it highlights that Obama is trapped by group politics (which defines all people by their race, gender, or class), while Mark identifies himself as an individual - a very Westernized attitude.

Obama: "'You don't ever think about settling here [in Kenya]?'

"Mark took a sip from his Coke. 'No,' he said. 'I mean, there's not much work for a physicist, is there, in a country where the average person doesn't have a telephone.'

I should have stopped then, but something -- the certainty in this brother's voice, maybe, or our rough resemblance, like looking into a foggy mirror -- made me want to push harder. I asked, "Don't you ever feel like you might be losing something?'

"Mark put down his knife and fork, and for the first time that afternoon his eyes looked straight into mine.

"'I understand what you're getting at,' he said flatly. 'You think that somehow I'm cut off from my roots, that sort of thing.' He wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin onto his plate. 'Well, you're right. At a certain point, I made a decision not think about who my real father was. He was dead to me even when he was still alive. I knew that he was a drunk and showed no concern for his wife or children. That was enough.'

"'It made you mad.'

"'Not mad. Just numb.'

"'And that doesn't bother you? Being numb, I mean?'

"'Towards him, no. Other things move me. Beethoven's symphonies. Shakespeare's sonnets. I know -- it's not what an African is supposed to care about. But who's to tell me what I should and shouldn't care about? Understand, I'm not ashamed of being half Kenyan. I just don't ask myself a lot of questions about what it all means. About who I really am.' He shrugged. 'I don't know. Maybe I should. I can acknowledge the possibility that if looked more carefully at myself, I would …'

For the briefest moment I sensed Mark hesitate, like a rock climber losing his footing. Then, almost immediately, he regained his composure and waved for the check.

'Who knows?' he said. 'What's certain is that I don't need the stress. Life's hard enough without all that excess baggage.'

...Outside we exchanged addresses and promised to write, with a dishonesty that made my heart ache.