I have to start this off by saying that Barack Obama's win has cleared some dust from my soul. The last time I was so proud of the country of my birth was between 17 and 20 years ago, perhaps because I was looking at a nation I had longed for through my teenage years. The years in uniform and afterward did not have that feel; surrounded by a sea of fellow young people 'on the college program' did little to maintain that feeling.

Tonight, that changed in a very fundamental way. It changed in a way that astounded me. And really, it has very little to do with Barack Obama himself as much as a new trust in the democratic system which I have been revisiting through Alexis de Tocqueville. Where I once was jaded by my former understanding that the United States ran on lobbyists and fickle voting procedures and machines, I became even more jaded over the last 8 years. I could not explain to myself, I could not rationalize, I could make no sense of why my former brothers-in-arms not only risked life and limb but lost them. I could not explain how I could have worked with navigation systems that should have been accurate and how there was so much 'collateral damage'. It made no sense, unless one connects the dots in a way that makes locking one's tapioca pudding in a refrigerator sensible.

And that's uncomfortable. { Read more }

When Barry Became Barack is an interesting article, and it is the first article that I've linked to on any site that has something to do with a possible future President of the United States. But that isn't why I've linked to it, and it also isn't the misspelling of 'reluctant' within the very first paragraph (come on people - spell check!).

The reason I'm linking to it is quite simple. I can sort of relate to it. Being of multiple cultures makes for some interesting times, and the fact that a human can't be striped has its own penances. For me, I was thought to be:

• Mexican in Texas
• Cuban or Puerto Rican in Florida - even being refused gas at one place in the Panhandle once.
• Cuban/Puerto Rican/Dominican Republic/Colombian in New York
• Filipino in Japan
• Mixed Samoan in Hawaii
• 'Red', 'White' or Venezualan in Trinidad and Tobago

Identity is simply something you either have or you don't - it isn't something that other people give to you, but as a younger man traveling around I quickly learned to use what other people thought of me to my advantage where possible. I've been called a greaser, spic, howlie and many other things. Over time, I learned that wherever I went, I was a minority in numbers - and because of my own weak personal identity at times, I wasn't respected here and there. What was worse was that the minorities I was identified with didn't see me as a part of the whole. A very odd existence. { Read more }