John McWhorter reflects on Obama’s impromptu Trayvon Martin speech:
[T]he perception of black men as inherently criminal is what most black people really mean by “racism” when they talk about its prevalence. Most can discuss more statistical manifestations on reflection, but what really sits in the gut is cases like Amadou Diallo, Sean Bell, Oscar Grant, and now Martin. Or, the related experiences that black men have that Obama mentioned having had himself, such as being trailed in stores or watching white women tensing up as they pass.
This stuff is real. It’s raw. Testament to this daily kind of racist dismissal of black men is considered an urgent task of public discussion of the black condition. No one who understands this could possibly condone, for example, the vastly overreaching policy on stop-and-frisks in New York City. Should the police pay as much attention to the Upper East Side as Bedford-Stuyvesant? Of course not. But should most brown-skinned adolescents in a neighborhood expect to be stopped by usually surly cops for no reason? Say yes and you have no right to wonder why you get generation after generation of young men who feel alienated from their own society–which in fact makes Obama’s consideration of Ray Kelly to lead the Department of Homeland Security decidedly more ungainly at this point.
Ta-Nehisi applauds the speech:
I have had my criticisms of this president and how he talks about race. But given the mass freak-out that met him last year after making a modest point about Trayvon Martin, it must be said that it took political courage for him to double down on the point and then advance it.
No president has ever done this before. It does not matter that the competition is limited. The impact of the highest official in the country directly feeling your pain, because it is his pain, is real. And it is happening now. And it is significant.
Bouie doubts the speech will change much:
It’s asking Americans to empathize with Martin—to put themselves in the shoes of a black teenager, walking alone, at night, being followed by an older man—and try to see the circumstance as he would have experienced it. Other presidents have spoken frankly about the challenges faced by African Americans—Lyndon Johnson’s speech on the anniversary of Gettysburg (he was vice president at the time), stands as an excellent example—but no president has ever asked Americans to try to imagine the perspective of a black boy. It’s a powerful appeal, and my hope is that the public will take it seriously. My actual expectation, however, is that they won’t.
Ezra notes how Obama’s rhetoric on race has changed:
In 2008, Obama seemed to believe that with the right leadership, America was ready to move forward on race. “We are the ones we have been waiting for,” he said. In 2013, he seemed to believe political leaders might simply make matters worse, and that, on this issue at least, we are not the ones we have been waiting for. The ones we are waiting for, he seemed to say, are still coming.
Chait thinks Obama’s speech was intended for future audiences:
Obama understands that interjecting himself into a racialized controversy carries risks, but he also believes that the electorate of the future is on his side. His remarks are probably aimed not at the present but at posterity.
My thoughts here.
The Dish 