ASIA!

Post-racial and bi-coastal: in the four short years since catapulting to global recognition from little-known Chicago politician, Barack Obama, the junior US Senator from Illinois, has meticulously outlined himself as many things to many people.

A policy wonk with the delivery of a preacher; a big-spending social democrat with a fondness for Milton Friedmanesque fiscal conservatism, the out-of-place son of an immigrant father with a middle America rootedness. "People on almost all sides of any issue can see parts of themselves reflected in Obama's eyes," writes New York Times columnist David Brooks. "But it does make him hard to place."

In the dwindling days of an outsized, adrenalised, over-analysed election cycle, the mosaic of Obama's life and the myriad ways in which Americans perceive his candidacy tell us as much about America (the most diverse society known to humankind) as it does about Obama (the most culturally diverse presidential candidate in American history).

An African American man in a country with a deep and difficult racial history, Obama's identity makes him unique among the hundreds of men who have sought claim to the Oval Office. But while pundits speculate on the significance of a black man in the White House, consider this – could Obama be the first Asian American president?

This question, recently posed by San Francisco journalist Jeff Yang in an article entitled “Could Obama be the first Asian American President?”, is a riff on the now infamous phrase that novelist Toni Morrison used in 1998 to describe Bill Clinton – "our first black President". 

Earlier this year, Morrison publicly endorsed Barack Obama during the democratic primaries. Though author endorsements are not known for galvanizing the electorate, Morrison's backing resurrected a question that hung over Obama early on in the campaign: Is he "black enough"?

Around the time of Morrison's endorsement, the Senator's wife, Michelle Obama, summarily dismissed questions about her husband's degree of cultural affinity with black America as "silly". "It's part of the silliness of our culture," said Mrs. Obama, adding, "I don't think there is a person of colour in this country that doesn't struggle with what it means to be a part of your race versus what the majority thinks is right."

In 1995, Obama wrote his autobiography, Dreams From My Father. "Where did I belong?" he asks, recollecting the emotional and physical displacement of his early 20s.  "Whatever my father might say, I knew it was too late to ever truly claim Africa as my home. And if I had come to understand myself as a black American, and was understood as such, that understanding remained unanchored to place."

Between being born to a teenage mother and the quest to become the 44th President of the United States, Obama's trajectory took on a distinctly Asian American tenor. Certain elements in the Obama life resume make this connection obvious - the childhood years spent in Honolulu, Hawaii (the U.S.'s only Asian-majority state) and Jakarta, Indonesia; the stepfather, half-sister and brother-in-law of Asian lineage.

Yet the Obama story resonates with many Asian Americans, especially those who are second-generation, on account of the intangibles.

There are the elevated academic expectations from his parents, for instance. ("If [Barack] has done his work for tomorrow, he can begin on his next day's assignments" exclaimed the senior Obama, criticising the junior Obama's post-homework TV-watching habits). There's the youth spent quietly grappling with issues of racial and cultural identity ("I was engaged in a fitful interior struggle. I was trying to raise myself as a black man in America…"), and second-generational cultural complexities on visiting his father's homeland ("My name belonged and so I belonged, drawn into a web of relationships, alliances and grudges that I did not yet understand."). 

It's the self-consciousness and self-awareness that stems from a lifetime spent on the outside looking in.

"With minor search and replace," writes Yang, "much of the first half of Dreams from My Father could have been excerpted from an Asian American coming-of-age work."  Varun Soni, Dean of Spiritual Life at the University of Southern California and one of the founding members of South Asians for Obama (SAFO), agrees. "Obama recounts his experiences of being marginalized and disenfranchised, of being between cultures, nations and religions," writes Soni on the blog, Inside Outsiders. "Many of us at SAFO felt like we were reading our own autobiographies in his."

The other half of the equation

The Republican candidate, Arizona Senator John McCain, had been lauded as a military hero and for the tenacity that saw him through five and a half years as a prisoner of war in Vietnam.

McCain's Asian American supporters cite his moderate position on immigration and his adherence to tax policies that support small-business owners. With Asian Americans being the minority group most likely to be self-employed or own a small business, such policies could provide many Asian Americans with a measure of financial relief amid the current cascade of problems crippling the US economy.

McCain's popularity is also tied to his uncensored speaking style, a quality that he refers to as "straight talk" and which has resulted in a slew of McCain campaign ads featuring the word "maverick". But while McCain's candour has served him well with independent-minded voters, it has not always charmed Asian Americans.

Most notably, during the course of his 2000 bid for the Republican ticket, McCain was quoted as saying, "I hate the gooks. I will hate them as long as I live." An initially unrepentant McCain defended his comments by stating that "I was referring to my prison guards and I will continue to refer to them in a language that might offend some people because of the beating and torture of my friends." Insisting that it was not an epithet when it came to describing his Vietcong captors, McCain added, "Gook is the kindest appellation I can give."

Coined by US soldiers in the late 19th century, "gook" entered the American lexicon as a racial slur during the Korean and Vietnam wars and remains one of the most deeply offensive anti-Asian epithets. Three days following the incident, McCain apologised. "I will continue to condemn those who unfairly mistreated us," McCain said, "But out of respect to a great number of people whom I hold in very high regard, I will no longer use the term that has caused such discomfort."

Still, for voters like Reggie Hui, a second-generation Chinese American, it calls into question McCain's ability to relate to an increasingly diverse populace. "I understand that he had tough experiences as a POW," says the 30-year-old Bostonian. "But growing up, I was also called a gook." McCain's statement, adds Hui, "is something I will never forgive or forget".

Political observers expect that Asian Americans will re-orient their previous allegiances and turn out for Obama on November 4. Such an assumption would have been much more difficult to make in previous decades, when G.O.P support for small-business owners and the party's stance against Communism made them the Asian American party of choice, particularly among Korean and Vietnamese immigrants.

The sharp shift leftward began in the 1990s, a decade that served as a political coming-of-age for those who migrated in the 80s as well as for second generation Asian Americans whose parents arrived in the U.S. in the 60s and 70s. "Their first exposure to American politics was President Clinton," says Wong of USC. "This had an enduring effect on their party identification."

At an August 17th Asian-Pacific Islander fundraiser in San Francisco, Obama focused his opening lines on the South Asian community and warmed up the crowd with a kind of subcontinental street cred unheard of among his predecessors. "Not only do I think I'm desi," said Obama, employing a cultural identifier commonly used by people of South Asian extraction, "I am desi."

Amid lighthearted anecdotes involving his ability to cook dal and his inability to make naan, Obama closed out the evening with US$7.8 million for his campaign war-chest.

Ultimately, turnout - not support – is likely to be Obama's biggest challenge among Asian American voters. Asian American votership remains disproportionately low when compared with the community's population: according to the Urban Institute, a Washington D.C.-based nonpartisan research group, while Americans of Asian heritage constitute just over 4% of the US population, they make up a mere 1.9% of the vote. 
In contrast, white Americans, who make up 70% of the population, represent 81% of all voters. Despite research indicating that Asian Americans have a strong interest in politics, the main reason remains lack of eligibility, says Wong. "The majority of these folks have not become citizens."

Actor Daniel Dae Kim (best known for his role on the American series, Lost) starred in a two-minute commercial for Allen's opponent, Jim Webb, which still generates commentary on YouTube. "For too long, we've been the silent minority, watching history unfold around us while we focused solely on our immediate concerns," states a solemn Kim as he gazes directly into the camera. "Our community may well cast the deciding vote in a Senate election that will have ramifications throughout our country and the world."

With some 280,000 Asians who were US citizens of voting age in Virginia in 2006, the fact that Allen lost the race by 9,300 votes would seem to indicate that even a fractional turnout by Asian American Democrats would account for Webb's pivotal win. Moreover, Webb's victory shifted the precarious balance of the 100-member Senate in favor of the Democrats while signaling a change in the racial politics of a reliably Republican southern state.

Virginia's move from red to blue in the 2006 Senate race makes it a toss-up state in this election, and an Obama victory in Virginia would make it the first time a Democratic presidential candidate has won the state since Lyndon Johnson in 1964. Whether Asian Americans will again make the difference remains to be seen, but "the takeaway here is that Virginia, like the rest of the United States, is becoming ever more ethnically diverse," wrote Andrew Leonard in a November 2006 article for Salon.com. "Screw with that at your peril."

For one Asian American, however, this election offers a win-win situation. Bobby Jindal, a rising star in the Republican party who was once eyed as a potential vice-presidential pick for McCain, is often cited as a future presidential candidate. Literally half McCain's age, the 36-year-old Indian American governor from Louisiana can expect to flex more clout on the national circuit under a McCain administration, possibly even as a cabinet appointee. But an Obama victory would clear other hurdles, namely, paving the way for a second man of melanin to enter the Oval Office.

Which begs the question: If Bill Clinton was "the first black president", and if Barack Obama becomes "the first Asian American President", who will lay claim to Bobby Jindal?