I‘ve been struggling to put my thoughts on Obama’s speech yesterday into words. Tom Baxter has a great take that helped me crystallize some of my thoughts.

When W.E.B. Dubois introduced the concept of double consciousness, on the eve of the 20th Century, he was talking about the dilemma of African-Americans in his own time, of “measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.”

Those aren’t words Obama or those of his generation would use to describe their inner selves today. But in an ever more hyphenated world, Dubois’ idea of seeing things through different lenses in the same set of eyes has proven to be intellectually elastic, and useful for talking about many aspects of modern life.

The Obama speech could be read as a new – and to those used to thinking of a fundamentally divided America, surprising – twist on the concept of double consciousness. Its critical section is the one in which he relates his divided feelings about the black minister who baptized his children and the white grandmother who helped raise him, and who both expressed racial sentiments he rejected.

I have a similar conflicted view of my grandfather. He was an incredible person whom I admire deeply, but there’s also part of his story that has always troubled me. He graduated from Tech High School in the same class as Lester Maddox (I have an alumni directory where their names are listed on the same page), and had similar attitudes about race. They were lifelong friends. I met Maddox when he attended my grandfather’s 85th birthday party some years back.


My understanding is my grandfather was one of the men who brandished axe handles at the Pickrick Restaurant, which Maddox owned, threatening violence in protest of mandatory desegregation. If he wasn’t literally there, he was unquestionably supportive of those who were.

I’ve often heard that part of his story written off as being a product of its time. While my first thought is “bullshit” when I hear that, I still feel conflicted about it, and possibly always will. I have trouble reconciling those monstrous attitudes with the kind-hearted, gentle man I knew for years.

There are still corners of my family where those attitudes are just as prevalent today as they were when Maddox pulled a gun on three black men in 1964 who attempted to enter his restaurant:

Lester Maddox pulls a gun

They’ve just been pushed beneath the surface. Those roots run deep on both sides of my family. I have relatives in the Sons of Confederate Veterans, an organization renowned for thinly-veiled racism under the guise of honoring heritage.

There’s a lot of Old South in my blood, which often is simultaneously a point of pride and shame. Just as it’s not adequate to condemn the South as racist and backwards without trying to tell the rest of the story, I also feel that way about my grandfather. There was a lot more good in him than there was bad. A lot more.

I don’t really have any answers here, mostly questions. What does it say about me that I embrace these family members despite knowing what I know about them? Is it acceptable to compartmentalize these feelings, to take the good with the bad to try to form a nuanced picture? Is there any way to reconcile these conflicts without excusing inexcusable behavior? Is there any action I’m obligated to take that I am not taking?

Update March 22 8:18 a.m.: See my mom’s response here.