Omar, John, Adams, Benjamin, Thomas, James, Abraham. Have I offended you yet? How about Hussein? How about Barack Hussein?
These names are all Aramaic, Arabic, or Hebrew in origin. They are not, of course, necessarily Muslim in origin. Not that there would be anything wrong with them if they were. Unfortunately the name Hussein has a nasty reputation because of a terrible dictator. As terrible as that dictator was, however, he was not responsible for the attacks on our country on September 11TH, 2001 and, regardless, any link you feel there is between him and the democratic presidential candidate is, for the lack of a better term, just plain stupid.
It’s too bad you can’t find some sort of imaginary link between Barack Hussein Obama and Jordan’s King Hussein, who was a strong US ally and major advocate for peace in the Middle East, or perhaps General Hussein Kamal, former director of Iraq’s Military Industrialization Corporation. General Kamal defected to Jordan, where he assisted the United Nations and the International Atomic Energy Agency in their search for weapons of mass destruction. He was later assassinated, after being labled a traitor, upon returning back to Iraq– despite Saddam’s promise for his safety.
Yesterday I was in a car with some friends driving around town when something spurred a discussion of the upcoming election and one of the four occupants of the vehicle asked why I would ever vote for someone who was named Hussein. As you can imagine, I shook my head in disbelief.
I responded that Hussein was in fact a name Obama was given after his grandfather, from Kenya. Although many people think the name is Muslim in origin, Obama is in fact a Christian and the name is merely inherited. I also questioned what made her think that all Muslim’s were “bad people”. She told me that she didn’t think that, she just didn’t know why I’d vote for someone named Hussein– you know, because it sounds like Saddam Hussein apparently?
Sharing a name with someone does not make you that person. It does not make you related to that person. It creates no magical affiliation or bond with that person. Names are not a system of beliefs. They are not a political idea. A name does not make you a saint. It does not make you a sinner. It does not make you a terrorist. It’s quite a shallow decision to assume these things.
I believe in the end, many of these conclusions arise as some sort of mask for racism. People come up with wild accusations and make odd comparisons. They use these as an excuse to hate someone, but they’re not really kidding anyone but themselves.
In my state of Iowa, Obama won the caucus. We saw a predominately caucasian state vote for a black candidate. People understand that this isn’t about skin color, but about who can lead this country. Most people understand that, anyways.
Our night of cruising about comes to an end as we drop off some friends and meet up with others. We arrive at our destination and head down the stairs to a smokey basement in our search for a few games of table tennis. I’ve gone down these stairs many times before but it’s always a bit unsettling.
Hanging from the ceiling supports are two flags I had first seen in two very different but just as disheartening sections of a history book from the past. One black and white flag contains symbols from the Nazi political party and several swastika. The other is a confederate flag. The owner hasn’t the vaguest idea of how truely offensive they are to people. He doesn’t really know what they represent. He hangs them with pride, feeling some sort of affiliation as if he’s in some sort of hate club. Somewhere he thinks he belongs. Someone walks over to the stereo and places a CD containing songs ripped from the internet into the drive. The songs celebrate the klan and racial slurs. They were written and performed by Clifford Joseph Trahan using the fake name Johnny Rebel as a sort of anthem against the civil rights movement.
Three or four of the songs play until the group notices how quiet I’ve gotten. If they had tried to put this in my stereo at home, they’d have been thrown out. We leave shortly after.
I grew up with some of these kids. They’re not bad people, but horribly misdirected. They probably couldn’t name five people they knew that were not white. They’re disgustingly ignorant, but I can’t replace them.
I can, on the other hand, get my own ping pong table.
personal, politics
names, prejuidice, racism