One thing about today's Republicans for good or for bad is that they are unified and focused on defeating those they deem "other." Sadly, Democrats seem more concerned about infighting amongst themselves and alienating those who, in my view, should be their natural allies. A case in point is the rift between some blacks and their apparent quest to dish Pete Buttigieg. The irony is that both blacks and gays have been subject to centuries of discrimination, much of it based on selected Bible passages, yet what ought to be a unifying experience of being denigrated and diminished by white heterosexual society has some arguing that only they are true victims of discrimination. Never mind that gays, unlike blacks, continue to lack statutory employment, housing and health care non-discrimination protections in the majority of the states. What prompts me to say this is the attacks Buttigieg is under for saying that as a gay man, he knows about living with discrimination and, therefore, can empathize with the discrimination that blacks face. True, white gays can often "pass" in society in a way that blacks cannot, but we do know the harm of discrimination. I was fired for being gay and my whiteness did nothing to protect me. I've been screamed at and call "faggot' - ironically, mostly by blacks - and find myself hated by some simply for who I am. Both gays and blacks need to remember that we have a common enemy: Donald Trump and today's GOP. Thus, the concept of the enemy of my enemy is my friend should apply. The Washington Post looks at what I see as Buttigieg's good faith remarks that have been grasp by some as a basis for attacking him. Here are highlights:
Mayor Pete Buttigieg has delivered a provocative response in recent days to those who challenge his empathy with black Americans: His experience as a gay man helps him relate to the struggles of African Americans.That has angered some African Americans, who view it as an attempt by a privileged white man to claim a type of victimhood that is distinct from the black experience in America, even while others take the comments more favorably.
Oliver Davis, a black council member in South Bend, Ind., where Buttigieg is mayor, said that African Americans, unlike gay people, don’t have the option of “coming out” at their chosen moment — as did Buttigieg, who disclosed his sexual orientation after he had been elected mayor.
LGBT activists see something different in Buttigieg — a barrier-breaker from a group that has long faced bigotry and violence, a face of the latest struggle for inclusion. And while some successfully conceal their difference, say leaders of the movement for gay equality, that decision can come with its own steep costs.
Evan Wolfson, founder of Freedom to Marry, which helped lead the fight for same-sex marriage, said Buttigieg’s message is not “an attempt to appropriate someone else’s experience.” Rather, he said, the mayor is saying that “because he, too, has had to deal with his own struggles, that has made him more aware of the need to connect with the struggles of others.”
That question — how to square Buttigieg’s privileges with the adversity that comes with anti-gay prejudice — is becoming sharper as the 37-year-old Afghan war veteran rises in the polls and scrambles for ways to connect with black voters. And it renews the issue of how Americans, of any background, will respond to the candidacy of an openly gay man, one who holds hands with his husband and publicly discusses his decision to come out.
Buttigieg has shot to the top of the polls in Iowa and is gaining strength in New Hampshire, two largely white states — but he trails badly in South Carolina, the first primary state with a sizable African American population. A recent poll gave him less than 1 percent support among black Democrats there.
The mayor’s current efforts to find common ground are prompting raw feelings, including his comments at the last Democratic debate when the question of race arose.
“While I do not have the experience of ever having been discriminated against because of the color of my skin, I do have the experience of sometimes feeling like a stranger in my own country, turning on the news and seeing my own rights come up for debate, and seeing my rights expanded by a coalition of people like me and people not at all like me,” Buttigieg said.
That drew a sharp response, including from Sen. Kamala D. Harris (D-Calif.), a presidential hopeful and the only black woman in the U.S. Senate.
“I think Kamala had a point, and I understood what she was saying,” the Rev. Al Sharpton, the civil rights activist, said in an interview, though he added that Buttigieg had been misunderstood.
He said Buttigieg is doing his best to reach out. “He’s evolving,” Sharpton said. “Do I think he’s where he needs to be? No.”
The prospect of tension between the black and gay communities worries some people in both groups. “Can’t y’all stop this mess?” Alvin McEwen, a black LGBT activist from South Carolina, recalled thinking to himself amid the furor following Buttigieg’s comments.
“No group wants to have the autonomy of their narrative taken by another group,” McEwen said. “But it also typifies how both communities want to grab on to power and don’t want to listen to each other.”
Asked about the comments during his recent campaign swing in western Iowa, Buttigieg said he was not trying to compare the black and gay experiences, only to say that he is driven to fight for African Americans the way others have fought for him.
“Having seen that, having seen how that alliance can make an impact, makes me reflect on how I can turn around and make myself useful, not only to the LGBT community but to people whose life experiences are very different,” he added.
“Let’s not get caught up in who understands discrimination the most,” Barber said. “Let’s deal with the real issue, which is that the same entities that are against gay folks are the same entities who are against black folks, and that we ought to be united in fighting discrimination in any form it arises.”
Buttigieg from the outset of his campaign sought guidance in how to frame his gay identity when talking with black voters. Two weeks after announcing his run for president, he lunched with Sharpton at Sylvia’s, a famous restaurant in Harlem.
“He wanted to genuinely know how I felt the African American community would relate to an LGBT candidate,” Sharpton said. The activist told Buttigieg something other black leaders have also said — that the level of homophobia in the black community has been greatly overstated.
In Virginia's 2017 elections, Justin Fairfax, the black Lt. Governor, eked out victory by the narrowest margin of the three statewide candidates and was arguably put over the top by the LGBT vote. Had Virginia gays employed the mindset of Buttigieg's critics, perhaps Fairfax would have been defeated. The focus needs to be on unity and fighting our common enemies.
