I
recently
bought
my
first
presidential
primary
t-shirt
online.
I
only
managed
to
restrain
myself
from
buying
one
of
the
“Obama
is
my
homeboy”
t-shirts
because
it
seemed
inauthentic
—
not
because
I
didn’t
want
it.
I
figured
from
there
it
wouldn’t
be
a
long
leap
to
wearing
my
hair
in
dreads
and
spare-changing
in
Little
5
Points,
just
waiting
for
someone
to
offer
the
white
girl
a
quarter
and
suggest
she
buy
a
culture.
After
all,
I
don’t
really
have
any
homeboys,
per
se.
With
a
year
and
a
half
before
the
2008
presidential
elections,
I
should
be
more
conflicted
about
whom
I
plan
to
support
for
president,
but
I
can’t
help
it.
I
heart
Barack
Obama.
I
jumped
on
the
hypothetical
Barack
Obama
bus
with
everyone
else
during
the
2004
Democratic
National
Convention
when
Obama
delivered
the
keynote
address
to
the
delegation.
Most
famously
he
noted,
“We
worship
an
awesome
God
in
the
blue
states,
and
we
don’t
like
federal
agents
poking
around
our
libraries
in
the
red
states.
We
coach
Little
League
in
the
blue
states
and
have
gay
friends
in
the
red
states….”
My
head
almost
spun
around
backwards.
Was
this
a
positive
mention
of
gay
people
made
voluntarily,
not
in
response
to
a
question,
on
national
television?
Within
15
minutes,
I
became
one
of
the
thousands
of
Americans
who
shut
down
Obama’s
website
trying
to
make
an
online
donation.
SINCE
THAT
NIGHT,
I’ve
watched
Obama
from
afar,
and
he
continues
to
impress
me
not
just
because
he
is
charismatic
and
a
brilliant
speaker,
but
because
his
message
reflects
the
reality
of
most
Americans’
lives
(and
not
just
the
ones
who
can’t
identify
Iraq
on
a
globe):
bifurcated
and
messy.
His
consistent
message
of
hope
and
respect
resonates
with
me
most
concretely
because
it
mirrors
my
own
relationships:
With
two
of
my
brothers
in
seminary
now,
I
can’t
claim
to
dislike
evangelical
Christians,
nor
do
I
think
“right-wing”
and
“Christian”
are
synonymous
terms
that
both
translate
to
“evil.”
Sure,
I’m
not
crazy
about
the
boys
traveling
to
Egypt
to
try
to
convert
Muslims,
but
I’m
remarkably
OK
with
them
trying
to
convert
people
who
currently
have
no
particular
faith
and
want
one.
Do
I
secretly
wish
they
were
Unitarians?
Sure.
But
do
they
secretly
pray
for
my
salvation?
Probably.
Still,
I
accept
my
brothers’
faith
in
the
same
way
that
they
accept
my
sexual
orientation.
At
heart,
I
know
our
core
values
are
not
that
different:
We
believe
in
philanthropy
and
volunteerism;
we
would
rather
go
hungry
than
steal.
My
brothers
and
I
do
not
vote
the
same
way,
but
we
do
vote,
and
I’m
confident
that
when
they
are
leading
their
own
congregations
they
won’t
be
organizing
sermons
around
Leviticus
18:22
or
starting
up
ex-gay
ministries
either.
They
can’t
—
they
like
my
partner
too
much.
Similarly,
I
stopped
tying
together
“right-wing
evangelical
Christians”
as
a
knee-jerk
phrase
to
describe
everything
I
think
it
wrong
with
the
current
republican
leadership.
I
can’t
—
there
are
at
least
two
evangelical
Christians
that
I
love.
A
FRIEND
SUGGESTED
to
me
that
I
was
giving
Barack
Obama
too
much
credit
for
good
speech-making.
“That’s
just
oratory,”
she
said.
But
politics
is
not
exactly
manual
labor.
It
is
the
art
of
communication,
persuasion
and
forming
coalitions
to
push
good
ideas
into
law.
For
the
record,
what
is
known
of
Obama’s
positions
on
“gay
issues”
IS
good.
He
polled
an
89
percent
on
last
year’s
HRC
scorecard
(he
missed
the
100
percent
mark
after
he
declined
to
co-sponsor
a
bill
which
would
have
provided
immigration
rights
to
domestic
partners);
he
opposes
gay
marriage,
but
supports
civil
unions;
he
supports
hospital
visitation
and
inheritance
rights.
His
position
on
“Don’t
Ask,
Don’t
Tell”
is
still
unknown,
but
a
spokesperson
from
the
Servicemembers
Legal
Defense
Network
notes
that
the
organization
“consider[s]
him
an
ally.”
Some
gay
activists
have
made
an
issue
of
Obama’s
opposition
to
gay
marriage,
but
he
addresses
the
subject
in
his
new
book,
“The
Audacity
of
Faith.”
In
it,
he
recalls
a
hard
phone
call
with
a
lesbian
supporter
who
was
disappointed
to
be
reminded
of
his
opposition
to
gay
marriage.
He
writes,
“As
I
spoke
to
her,
I
was
reminded
that
no
matter
how
much
Christians
who
oppose
homosexuality
may
claim
that
they
hate
the
sin
but
love
the
sinner,
such
a
judgment
inflicts
pain
on
good
people
—
people
who
are
made
in
the
image
of
God,
and
who
are
often
truer
to
Christ’s
message
than
those
who
condemn
them.”
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