My whole life, I've been grossly aware of my status as a minority in this country. Despite having been born and raised in the United States, I've labored under the constant reminders that I am different. Whether it is the difficulty people have pronouncing my name, their appreciation for the quality of my English, or their refusal to accept that I'm from the Midwest (no, where am I from originally??), the subtext is that I do not belong. Although I may speak with the same accent, enjoy the same foods, and resonate with the same cultural references, I can never become fully American. There is a definition of what an American is and I'm not it.
I fully appreciate the value of living in a democracy, however, I know that democracy is a double-edged sword. It's been criticized as rule by the masses - and for a minority, that is an especially dangerous thing. Any review of American history will reveal that minorities have always suffered the harshest of abuses in this country. Slavery, the denial of basic civil liberties to African Americans, the internment of Japanese Americans, the suspicion of loyalties cast on Asian Americans during the 1996 campaign, the assertion that Dr. Wen Ho Lee was giving away our nuclear secrets to the Chinese - all of these incidents essentially are judgements by the majority suggesting that we are not quite the same, not equal, not deserving of the same rights and protections.
Being a minority in this country means praying that someone from your identity group doesn't do something to piss off the majority. If they do, you have a heavy price to pay. I know it because it is happening to me now. A group of Saudis hijack four commercial airliners and ram them into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and some other target - the worst case of terrorism and attack on the US in history. Who pays the price? Brown people. Brown people who are Muslim. Brown people like me. The response of the nation to this attack wasn't to stand by the principles of individuality of action and innocence before proven guilty. We were threatened and assaulted in the streets, terrorized in our homes, workplaces, and schools. We were rounded up by the government and questioned on the basis of nothing more than our religion. We were photographed, fingerprinted, and deported. We were profiled in the airports, denied credit by our banking institutions, and boycotted by our customers on the basis of nothing more than our appearance or our names. We were and continue to be treated as second-class citizens. I shudder to think of what will happen if another terrorist attack occurs. The price of America's security is being borne on the backs of Arabs, Muslims, and South Asians.
Where is the outrage? Where are the stalwart defenders of our liberties? They are few and far between. The government has ostracized this community so badly that no one will take up our cause. I know because I've spent the better part of the last two years watching the news media, legislation, and actively fighting for the rights of this community. We face many disadvantages. We are small. We have few resources. We have little clout. And we lack access.
Or so I thought. I've been watching several bloggers over the past year - people like Atrios, Josh Marshall, Oliver Willis, Kevin Drum, Tom Tomorrow, and Kos, just to name a few. They've convinced me that it might be possible to raise awareness, take a moral position, and create pressure for the right things to happen. So I begin an experiment to see if I can make a difference.
I intend this blog to raise awareness of issues that are impacting this community that aren't being raised by other progressive bloggers. By no means, however, am I limiting myself to just these issues. I intend to bring what I hope will be a minority perspective to these problems - not just an African American perspective, but one that reflects the new immigrant communities that have been growing in this country.
I hope to extend understanding of America's race problems beyond the narrow scope of black and white to include brown and yellow and red and whatever other colors that are relevant to the discussion.
In a way, I am connecting to my own heritage. The term 'pundit' is derived from the term 'pandit,' whom in India is a wizened man that communities look to for guidance. Clearly, the pundits on this side of the globe are not necessarily held in the same regard as they are in India. Which is good for me, since I doubt I have the same wisdom of a pandit. Fortunately for me, pundits like Andrew Sullivan, Glenn Reynolds, and others have sufficiently lowered the bar for me to confidently add my voice to the fray.
Bring it.
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