African-American men seemed to understand it right away. Years ago, in the middle of the Whitewater investigation, one heard the first murmurs: white skin notwithstanding, this is our first black President. Blacker than any actual black person who could ever be elected in our children's lifetime. After all, Clinton displays almost every trope of blackness: single-parent household, born poor, working-class, saxophone-playing, McDonald’s-and-junk-food-loving boy from Arkansas. And when virtually all the African-American Clinton appointees began, one by one, to disappear, when the President’s body, his privacy, his unpoliced sexuality became the focus of the persecution, when he was metaphorically seized and body-searched, who could gainsay these black men who knew whereof they spoke? The message was clear: “No matter how smart you are, how hard you work, how much coin you earn for us, we will put you in your place or put you out of the place you have somehow, albeit with our permission, achieved. You will be fired from your job, sent away in disgrace, and—who knows?—maybe sentenced and jailed to boot. In short, unless you do as we say (i.e., assimilate at once), your expletives belong to us.”
The great story here for anybody willing to find it and write about it and explain it is this vast right-wing conspiracy that has been conspiring against my husband since the day he announced for President.
First, because he grew up in Arkansas, always had black friends, and played "black" music on his saxophone. Then when he was impeached over his affair with Monica Lewinsky, he had something in common with black leaders who'd had extramarital affairs and been excoriated for them, such as Jesse Jackson, Martin Luther King, and Adam Clayton Powell.
Throughout the civil rights movement, it appeared that any character flaw in a black leader was seized upon by whites in order to discredit them, even though the white critics weren't paragons themselves. Not coincidentally, some of Clinton's harshest critics, notably Newt Gingrich, Henry Hyde, and Robert Livingston, were hiding affairs of their own.