Obama won the election, Prop 8 was approved in California, and there's a hole in my TV screen

There has been a thick tension in my home for the past 3 weeks. My parents and I share completely different world views. They accuse me of being a "Liberal". I accuse them of being "Bigoted". I don't hide my feelings or opinions. They challenge me frequently, mostly with propaganda spam emails that have no authored signatures and no verifiable sources. I usually investigate and reply with refutation. They come back to me with "I read your email and researched for myself, and I found nothing that confirms that 'Michelle Obama is a racist, or that Obama is a Muslim', but I still think those things are true."

I really try hard to keep an open line of debate. Things get heated. I take after my father in my "hot-headedness", but I don't share any of his views. I have no problem disagreeing with them, and I am not actually interested in changing their minds. My only interest in debating with them is to dismantle false prejudice and to challenge false evidence. I have a rebellious nature, but after having my daughter, I have made it a point to reach out to my parents in order to establish a "peace treaty". For the most part I have been successful with this, but that is only because of my daughter. The fact that she was born on my father's birthday, she is the first grandchild, and I am the first and only girlchild, gives her a high place in my family.

I live with my parents, along with my husband and daughter, who is now 29 months old. It is a long story, you can read my other blog entries http://www.progressiveu.org/blog/49356-okay-its-my-turn-excercising-my-r..., http://www.progressiveu.org/blog/49255-progressive-parenting, and http://www.progressiveu.org/blog/49752-confessions-conformist to get more background on how this came to be. I have chosen to live with family because I was not financially prepared for a child. Living at home gives me a chance to save up money in order to guarantee her future security. I do pay rent, but it is far less than what we were paying before we lived with them. I never cared much for money, but the addition of a child in my life has turned my entire view of the world upside down and money has suddenly become a priority.

My father and I have never agreed on anything other than our unconditional love for each other. Growing up I came to see my father as my "Hero". He is truly a war hero. Beyond that, I understand and have empathy for his abusive upbringing, as well as the abuses inflicted on him and myself by my own biological mother. He is a Vietnam veteran with PTSD. He is a functional alcoholic and entrepreneur. He has worked very hard to get where he is, but he has no idea how to invest in his future. He is also the only reason I am still alive. He fought for me despite universal opposition. My mother aborted one of his children before I was born. He was devastated. When I was born, his world was expanded. He has a huge capacity for love and generosity. My father chased us and my mother across the country when she kidnapped us to live with her abusive boyfriend in Kansas. He hired private investigators to locate us, and brought us back to California. He wouldn't give my mother money beyond the $200/mo child support legally agreed on, but he would buy groceries and school clothes for us. He gave me a $20/week allowance. When my mother got on welfare, the state wiped out his savings without notifying him. Meanwhile, she worked as a "housecleaner" for under-the-table cash at $60/hour which she never declared to the state.

His military experience and trauma was hidden from me for years. I begged him when I was in high school, hoping to go to medical school, to claim his GI bill and VFW benefits. His whole body would lock up, and he would say "I have no interest in hanging out with those guys, getting drunk and talking about how shitty it was." I applied for college. I was 18. The financial aid office assessed my financial situation, and told me I didn't qualify for any aid beyond student loans. I was worried, because they wanted my parents financial information to determine what I qualified for. My parents made good money. The only aid available to me was student loans, but without credit history, I couldn't qualify without a cosigner. I asked my father to come with me to the financial aid office. He refused to cosign for anything for me. To my utter shock, the financial aid adviser looked at me and said, "Honey, if you want to go to college, you need to get married or get pregnant". So I went to community college for 6 years, earned an AA degree in psychology and an AS in nursing.

That was 4 years ago. I have always suspected my father of being a racist, but have also given him the benefit of the doubt. I grew up hearing racial slurs regularly. He would drive 2 and a half hours one way every other weekend to pick us up, and back again 3 days later religiously. Sitting in the passenger seat of his Chevy truck for so many hours, I was witness to his habitual and relentless commentary on female bodies that crossed our paths. Hearing him say things like, "She's got itty bitty titties". and "That's a wide load!" was an hourly event. Similarly, no black person crossed our path without comment. My father has always prided himself on his ability to maintain friendships with black people. He would say, "You know that guy Pat Brown? He was a great guy. I keep trying to tell people that 'Nigger is an attitude, not a color.'"

When I was 16 I had my best friend Danny over. He was a half black, half Puerto Rican drag queen. My father came home and was shaken. He did his best to be gracious. Over the course of the next year, he bonded with Danny. It didn't take long before Danny would come over and my father would say, "How's my favorite fag nigger doing?" Danny was a great guy and took it all with a grain of salt.

The moment when I absolutely without a doubt knew my father really was a deep down racist was when I told him, "Did you hear that Colin Powell has heavily endorsed Obama?." My father had told me that his being against Obama had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he was black. He had said, "If Colin Powell was running, I'd vote for him in a heartbeat." His response to my information was, "God damn it, they're both fuckin' niggers then."

The evening of November 3rd this year, my father approached me with an unusual desperation. He didn't let me go to bed until 1:30am. He was desperately challenging me on my voting options. I have not seen such intense energy on his part ever before in my life.

I already knew that Obama would win, and I knew that my father would more than likely react violently. I had prearranged for a sitter for my baby, as well as accepted an invitation to my supervisor's home where there would be a celebration for Obama's victory. I really had no major conflict with my father. He started saying things like, "So everything I fought for in Vietnam doesn't mean shit. You are all shitting all over the graves in Arlington. I refuse to live in a Communist, Marxist country!" I didn't respond because I know that it is folly to rationalize with a crazy man. He attacked me for voting for Obama. I said, "Look, we both know Obama will win in CA, I voted because I care about Prop 8." He responded, while slurring his speech and pouring himself another drink "You know, I've never told anyone this, but I had a homosexual experience in the army." I was shocked, but humbly said, "I have no reason to judge you for that."

My husband and I had previously agreed that we would go to our supervisor's house for election evening in order to be with positive people. It was wonderful. My supervisor is a 63 year old Jewish, travels to his self-built home in India every 3 months, and married an African woman from Kenya. My other dear friend and surrogate father figure is his best friend. He started his adulthood as a hippie, grew mushrooms on the UCI campus, got 'saved by Jesus' and started a Christian commune in northern CA. He eventually left that life due to his inability to align his base behavior with his religious understandings of truth. He is 67 and a self declared "atheist".

I left the house that night with a twinge of sadness for the sake of my father's self imposed isolation. I quickly let it go after I invited him to dinner and he declined.

I had a beautiful time at my friend's house with other beautiful people I know and love.

We stayed out late. I had to take the baby to school in the morning, and then go to work. My husband left for work at 6:10. After i got the baby up and put her in my bed, my stepmother came into my room and asked "What time did you guys leave?" I said "Around 8. The baby was asleep. Next thing she does is laugh, and say, "So you didn't witness the shattering of the TV?" I said, "No, what do you mean?" She said, "There's a giant hole in the TV screen. I don't know if he punched it or threw his whiskey glass through it."

It is my sincere hope that if this election does anything to change things, it will bring all of this kind of bigotry to a giant puss filled head, and that we will be able to lance it and extract racism from our country's consciousness forever.