This past Tuesday, Sen. Barack Obama delivered what could be considered the most important speech on race of the 21st century. If you missed it, or the events leading up to it, you have clearly been hiding under a rock with no access to YouTube. It could not only be the defining moment of the Illinois senator’s career, it could alter the way we view and discuss race in this nation. Or at least, that’s what I had hoped.

Fittingly titled “A More Perfect Union,” Obama’s call for compassion, understanding and honest discourse between blacks and whites seems to have cemented some of our divisions rather than mended them. Sadly, some of the conservative commentary (Pat Buchanan’s idiotic-verging-on-comical rebuttal, “A Brief for Whitey,” pops into mind) states clearly that we are ready for racial spectacle, not for racial discussion. It’s no wonder so many would prefer to ignore the entire issue in the first place.
I don’t consider myself particularly jaded when it comes to politics, which usually makes me the exception among my peers. But, upon reading the transcript of Obama’s speech, I found myself moved to tears. I never expected that level of honesty, maturity, and introspection out of a modern-day politician. I was amazed that I had been conditioned to not expect those things from a politician anymore.

The Democratic frontrunner knows, perhaps better than any other presidential candidate, the challenges and expectations for a public leader in the YouTube era. It wasn’t just the audacity to discuss race in a thoughtful and meaningful way that makes him exceptional. It was also that he delivered 5,000 words on the subject within shouting distance of Philadelphia’s Independence Hall.
Most importantly, the speech rang true. I am an Asian American who prides herself on her close friendships with people of many different races and ethnicities, and I have been privy to the sort of impolite comments and stereotyping that haunts today’s racial discourse (or lack thereof). My white friends have often shared with me thoughts that would never be expressed among black people, and likewise my black friends have shared confidences that were not for the ears of whites. I know first-hand that their grievances and anger are legitimate, even if they were beyond the reach of my personal understanding or beliefs.

It was in this way that Obama’s dissection of the complexity of these issues, and his desire to place their historical roots within a modern context, hit a personal note with me. This chasm of race has been an issue that has perplexed, confounded and fascinated me since I came to the United States from the Philippines as a 9-year-old.

Moreover, the catalyst for Obama’s speech – his controversial relationship with the Rev. Jeremiah Wright – also struck a profoundly personal note. You see, I’ve also found religion in a black church. And, unlike quite a few of my peers, who go to college and lose religion, I gained it. And I think it strange that commentators would condemn the black church, or what is talked about in the black church, when they would never deign to step foot in a black church to begin with.

To be sure, my church had a fair enough mix of pale and tan faces, more so than other churches in the area around Wilmington, N.C., as my pastor was a well-known leader in the community. But, undeniably, it was black in its majority, its praise, its traditions and its attitude.And yes, during the course of his sermons, he would sweat and sing, stomp across the stage, touch on everything from the political to the personal to the shameful and comical, all the while addressing the church as though each and every member was family. Because in that church, we were.

The black church, and my black pastors, led me to a fuller, more meaningful relationship with Christ. My pastor also advised me on many personal matters, from my personal relationships to my desire to go overseas. He was generous, hard-working, charismatic, flawed, and self-aware. I respect him, love him, and will always be indebted to him, but I did not always agree with him. And I’m sure my fellow congregants felt the same way.

Of course, he never said anything as remotely incendiary as the Rev. Wright. But if I or any other member of his congregation were ever to run for president (or even mayor), would his more controversial comments be leaked? Undoubtedly. And would he then be caricatured and demonized based on those comments? Absolutely. Would anyone dare place those comments within the context of an essentially flawed and complex human being? You’ve got to be kidding me.

 Many would have preferred to see Obama throw the reverend under a bus. Instead, he chose to view him as the complex, flawed human he is. A man who by Obama’s accounts is kind, compassionate, God-fearing – and just angry enough to say such radical and obscene things. While what Rev. Wright said is “un-American,” the complexity of the man is fundamentally American. Though it didn’t appease people, refusing to disown Rev. Wright was a courageous political act. And refusing to ignore race was an audacious move that will certainly affect his chances from here until the Democratic National Convention.

It’s entirely possible that, years from now, Obama’s “A More Perfect Union” speech could be viewed as a landmark in American political discourse. But, sadly, it’s also possible that it could be seen as one that cost him an election.