I didn’t know black people could be Republican until the 1988 election, the first time I had any real interest in politics. Bush. Dukakis. Jesse Jackson’s occasional two cents. My brother and I watched the DNC live from Atlanta, hoping a C-SPAN camera would land on our grandmother, who worked for the Michigan Democratic Party, sporting her campaign buttons from all the way back to the ‘60s.
My family was pretty political: Grandma on the Capitol steps, Mom working for the Social Security Administration, Dad careening his Howard County squad car onto curbs all over town. And we were extra Democrat. There was a refrigerator magnet with a frightening cartoon of a donkey — teeth bared, fists up — boxing an elephant.
Black? Check. Democrat? Check. In my mind, with the kind of egotism only children have (I am everyone! Everyone is me!), black people were Democrats.
When my brother and I watched the RNC from New Orleans, cameras swung through the Superdome: white man, white lady, black guy…
Whoa.
It was as shocking as when I learned black people could be British.
Even now, when I know good and well the parties don’t split cleanly down racial lines, I am still bewildered every time Ben Carson shows up on TV, mouthing off about gay marriage, Gitmo, or whatever stuck in his craw that morning. I actually met Carson when I was ten, not long after that New Orleans RNC. He was a surgeon at Johns Hopkins and didn’t live too far up I-95. My family was Seventh-Day Adventist; so was Carson’s. He spoke at my brother’s eighth-grade graduation — a climb-every-mountain-because-Jesus-loves-you-deal. Everyone was still excited about his groundbreaking 1987 operation that separated the Binder twins conjoined at the head. He had rock-star status in the Adventist community.
I should’ve known something was off when, in 1996, he published his autobiography, Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story. That’s a lot of swag, Ben. What seemed like importance, when I met him as a child, may have looked more like self-importance if I’d been an adult.
Still, today, it surprises me when I see him, this “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world” Adventist, slamming anyone who doesn’t believe what he believes.
Last Sunday, on Meet the Press, moderator Chuck Todd asked Carson whether or not a president’s faith should matter.
Carson: “If it’s inconsistent with the values and principles of America, then of course it should matter. But if it fits within the realm of America and consistent with the Constitution, no problem.”
Todd: “So do you believe that Islam is consistent with the Constitution?”
Ben: “I would not advocate that we put a Muslim in charge of this nation. I absolutely would not agree with that.”
Not sure that’s what Chuck was asking, Ben.
Even Ted Cruz thought it fucked up. When Ted thinks you’re crazy, your shit’s crazy.
I’d like to say that my problem with Carson has everything to do with his politics and holier-than-thou grandstanding, and nothing to do with the fact that he’s a black man with no respect for religious diversity or the rights of women, a black man who thinks gun control is a bad idea, a black man hating on all kinds of underrepresented populations. But it does. If Carson showed up for a rally today in Tampa, I’d like to think I wouldn’t call him a retired surgeon Uncle Tom all uppity on his shtick. I’d like to think I’d go with, Check your privilege. It’s classier. But since I often need to check mine, I’d settle for, Good Lord, Ben. Get somewhere and sit down.