Just a few short months ago, prospects for the Democratic Party seemed too good to be true. A sagging economy with more and more consumers feeling the pinch thanks to record high oil prices, a majority of the Americans convinced the country is on the wrong path, mounting public dissatisfaction with the war in Iraq, and abysmal approval ratings for current President George Bush (Republican) have all combined to produce a political climate where most people in the United States are clamoring for change. It is too soon to know whom the electorate will tap to deliver this change, but if history is a reliable indicator the current political climate should provide Democrats with their best opportunity in years to recapture the White House. Moreover, those who vied to become the Democratic Party’s nominee for President included an incredibly talented field which also proved to be diverse. At the outset the field of Democratic hopefuls included Senator Hillary Clinton, Senator Barack Obama, and Governor Bill Richardson competing to win the nomination and go on to become the first woman, African American, or Latino to occupy the highest political office in the country. Richardson’s campaign ended fairly early, but by February of this year it became clear that either Clinton or Obama would emerge the victor. The idea of catapulting either the first woman or the first Black into the White House left many Democrats downright giddy. It would be a chance to rewrite history. The Democratic Party appeared to be poised to regain political power, burnish its image as the progressive party, and reaffirm a commitment to diversity in one fell swoop. However, things would take an inauspicious turn.

Early surveys of registered Democrats showed that the overwhelming majority of people would be happy voting either for Clinton or Obama in the general election. However, over the last couple of months the tone of the campaign and the mood within the party took an unexpected turn. Race and gender, issues which seemed to play a largely symbolic role early in the contest, became increasingly important factors in the minds of many voters. More surprisingly, accusations of sexism and racism were being leveled against the campaigns of both Senators, resulting in a Democratic Party possibly in danger of possibly fracturing from the social tensions and heated rhetoric. Even now, several weeks after the contest has been decided, many wonder whether the self-inflicted wounds of the Democratic Party rank and file will heal in time to achieve the unification that will be needed to secure an electoral victory in November.

For some, the question of which party ultimately claims victory in the Presidential election is secondary. The overwhelmingly successful campaigns waged by Clinton and Obama electrified the public and inspired millions to register to vote for the first time. Moreover, the hotly contested race between the two—a race which decided by a razor thin margin—has been taken as incontrovertible proof that the country has matured to the point where people are largely ready to elect a minority as Commander-in-Chief. Obama’s candidacy in particular seems to have sparked a round of national commentary declaring that the United States has evolved to the point of being a “post-racial” or “post-ethnic” society. Consider, for example, the following assessment Paul Krugman provides in his column appearing in the New York Times: “Fervent supporters of Barack Obama like to say that putting him in the White House would transform America. With all due respect to the candidate, that gets it backward. Mr. Obama is an impressive speaker who has run a brilliant campaign—but if he wins in November, it will be because our country has already been transformed.” He goes on to note that, “Mr. Obama’s nomination wouldn’t have been possible 20 years ago. It’s possible today only because racial division . . . has lost much of its sting.” Such unabashedly exuberant estimations of the current social atmosphere have been encouraged to no small degree by the words of the candidates themselves on the campaign trail. Both Obama and Clinton routinely spoke about how they were in the process of “changing history”. After clinching enough delegates to claim the nomination, Obama reflected on how young boys and girls today would take it for granted that a woman or a Black could ascend to the office of the president and dare to live out any other dreams as a matter of course. He suggests that racial barriers (at least those in the mind) have been obliterated.

Few would doubt that the Democratic Party’s nomination battle held profound symbolic significance. Some even argued that it might also be taken as an indication that the country has finally exorcised the demons of discrimination based on race and gender which has haunted the nation since its founding. Although I do not want to diminish the importance of what transpired, the enthusiasm and support garnered by key Democratic candidates should not masquerade the reality that daunting challenges remain. Several inconvenient truths expose the fallacy of claims that American has conquered inequities based on gender and race. Though interpreted largely as markers of progress, the campaigns of Clinton and Obama provide ample evidence of the work which remains to be done. Blatantly sexist quips were directed at Senator Clinton by some members of the general public and also some members of the press. From simpleminded observations that she might fare better in the election if she wore more feminine attire to unjustifiably premature calls for her to exit the race despite having fought to a virtual tie. More egregious examples include the infamous Hillary nutcracker, a not-so-subtle concoction devised to depict her as an emasculating force because she transgressed socially sanctioned boundaries for women. There were more tactful means of accomplishing the same end such as the mentions of her “testicular fortitude.”

Obama too had to deal with complications stemming from his minority status, including nagging doubts about his patriotism, accusations that he is a Muslim, and a steady stream of death threats. Though this side of the campaign rarely attracts coverage in the mainstream media, it is something with which his volunteers cope with frequently. Not only have some members of the public been candid in saying to the volunteers that they will not vote for Obama under any circumstances because he is black, some have also opted to communicate this via incendiary racial epithets directed not only at the senator but also at those working on his behalf. After initially trying to handle such issues quietly, Obama finally recognized that things were beginning to get out of hand and launched a website to confront inaccuracies about him (FightTheSmears.com). Such facts on the ground make it clear that proclamations of a post-racial or post-gender America are premature. Utilization of tangible improvements as unambiguous indicators of societal transformation is one of the paradoxes or progress. Hard earned gains for minority groups can be used to argue that social obstacles have been removed.

In the same way that Obama and Clinton emerged as powerful symbols that could be used to construct an image of an America that has overcome social ills of the past, many of the improvements instituted through the SML have also provided ammunition for those eager to dismiss the Buraku Issue as a problem of the past. New apartment complexes, paved roads, plumbing and sewage systems are all examples of positive changes. But does this mean that the Buraku issue has been resolved? Not if one judges by the incidents of discrimination which continue to show up year after year. Moreover, it is not uncommon to hear notes of resentment (jealousy?) from some in the mainstream who feel residents of Buraku areas have been undeserving beneficiaries of special treatment. So while marking some degree of progress, the material improvements in the community might also serve as an additional magnet for prejudicial treatment.

The second paradox of progress is closely related to the first. Tangible signs of limited progress can occupy center stage and crowd out indicators of remaining work to be done. In the case of the Buraku issue, remaining tasks include things such as monitoring to see what gains have been transferable to younger generations, investigating to see if the demographic shifts taking place within many Buraku areas might be destabilizing the community and giving rise to a concentration of economically vulnerable segments of the population, and working to make sure that adequate deterrents are in place to curtail acts of discrimination. While these may seem to be of secondary importance to the basic material needs that were met with the SML, such topics are crucial to guarantee that the Buraku issue is not reconstituted in an alternative form. Anything compromising the vitality and exuberance of community life by displacing those who have played a critical leadership role in guiding the development of the community runs the risk of jeopardizing prospects for continued prosperity. In short, since social inequality can manifest itself along multiple dimensions (i.e. educational attainment, income, experiences of discrimination, lack of inadequate political representation, lack of access to social services, etc.) care must be taken not to draw hasty conclusions based on partial data. In addition to obvious signs of change for the better, attention should also be devoted to looking for hidden challenges. This is particularly crucial when working with statistical data. Quantitative indicators of positive changes over time, for instance, should not prevent us from using qualitative modes of analysis to ascertain how measurable gains have been distributed across the population in question.

A similar danger exists for minorities in the United States. The eagerness and unanimity with which many have pointed to Obama and Clinton as signs of all that is right about the contemporary United States has blinded us to nagging problems for which no simple solution is in sight. With respect to race, pronounced disparities remain. Blacks, for example, continue to constitute a disproportionately large percentage of the prison population. They also continue to be concentrated in urban districts where underfunded and underperforming schools constrain opportunities for personal success and development. Not only are many predominantly minority schools located in impoverished communities which means less tax revenue available to channel funds into school coffers, but they are also frequently located in high crime zones where students sometimes have to negotiate a maze of gang territories in order to get an education. Though they rarely become national news headlines, there is no shortage of promising minority youth whose lives have ended prematurely because they were victims of a violent crime.

Women too can point to a list of issues that need to be addressed before gender inequality can be dubbed a thing of the past. On average women continue to earn roughly three-quarters of the compensation offered to their male counterparts for the same work (Black and Latina women earn even less on average). Women make up less than one-quarter of the legislators in the 50 states, despite being the numerical majority. This is not just a numbers issue but also a fundamental problem of lacking adequate political representation to address issues of concern to women. In addition to these statistical anomalies one can also point to the unconscious and likely unintended sexist slips committed by some of the most reputable media publications in the world, some of which are believed to have left-leaning tendencies. A photograph of Senator Clinton appearing in the New York Times became a lightening rod for criticism by some groups.  Surprisingly, her face is nowhere to be found. Her head has been cropped from the picture which is centered on her bust. Many took this as a not-so-subtle reflection of the degree to which Clinton being a woman has factored into how she was being perceived on the campaign trail. Despite years of establishing a career of distinction, she was often reduced in words and in images to “the woman candidate.” So while Clinton’s agonizingly close campaign for the Democratic nomination can rightly be identified as a watershed moment in American politics which will force many to reassess how far a woman might be able to go in politics, reactions elicited by the campaign as well as the significant statistical gender gap between men and women in various areas should caution against unequivocally declaring that sexism is in its final throes.

One way to tackle the challenge posed by unequivocal declarations of progress would be to insist that attempts to measure inequality (or progress) for a particular group be assessed along multiple dimensions. Statistical profiles are often generated to provide a comprehensive assessment of where a particular group stands (i.e. the state of Black America or the current status of the Buraku Issue). What I am suggesting here, however, is an approach more attuned to whether particular segments of minority populations might be experiencing a degree of marginalization in a certain area—geographically, economically, occupationally, politically, or institutionally—that is more pronounced than the group as a whole. I think such analyses can help us generate a more precise understanding of the breadth and depth of the impact of public policy initiatives undertaken to date. Equally important is that this sort of approach may stimulate the development of more sensitive tools of assessment that enable us to disaggregate minority populations and fine-tune our interventions.

Such modes of analysis have the added benefit of making it possible to deal with another challenge often common to minorities in different societies, the problem of stereotyping. Stereotypes are often buttressed by the illusion that there is a concrete, objective basis for the social taxonomies which sort people into minority statuses. It has been a few decades since Stephen Jay Gould wrote about the fallacy of reifying abstract concepts like race and status, but the message is as relevant today as ever. Not only are the socially determined criteria whereby individuals are indelibly marked as minorities often mistaken as something concrete, but there is also a tendency for them to become a filter through which the actions, intentions, and lives of members of minority communities interpreted. Again revisiting the Democratic primary elections held in the U.S.,  despite the painstaking care with which they initially tried to define their own campaigns in terms broader than gender and race, Clinton was unable to avoid being reduced to “the woman candidate” just as Obama could not escape being cast as “the Black candidate.” Obama’s case is particularly interesting given because despite describing himself as “biracial” and frequently mentioning how he was raised by a white mother and white grandparents, it has done nothing to mitigate the tendency to see him as squarely on the black side of the black-white color divide. The inability by Americans at large (with the obvious exception of others who claim a bi-racial background) to acknowledge how the complexity of Obama’s family history complicates conventional racial boundaries reflects how deeply rooted race is in our national psyche. Despite the ambiguity of the facts on the ground, overly simplistic notions of race and difference result in a recycling (and consequently re-inscription) of racial boundaries.

Failure to acknowledge the tremendous variation between individuals who, according to social convention, might be lumped together in the same minority category blinds us to the dramatic shifts in the types of significance attributed to minority status by members of the affected community. Looking at the social movement histories of both the U.S. and Japan, one can discern how certain status distinctions which once carried the force of law (i.e. various “minbun” in Japan and slavery in the U.S.) gave rise to all of the following at various historical junctures: political organizations which work within the social scheme and seek to improve the lot of minorities by stressing self-improvement; political organizations which reaffirm minority status but view it in a positive light; groups and individuals which take issue with the very practice of drawing distinctions between the minority and the majority; those who may embrace a culturally defined minority status (as opposed to a political one); and successive generations for whom the minority status in question holds a qualitatively different significance because they came age during a time when (or perhaps in a place where) conditions varied from previous generations. The paradox of progress I want to underscore here is the way that minority status can assume greater importance in everyday life as legal distinctions are supplanted with social, political, and cultural ones.

Perhaps because they were deliberately trying to avoid being defined purely by their minority status, Obama and Clinton occasionally reaffirmed the value of equality in general terms but often failed to take the initiative in addressing the needs or problems of specific minority communities. Obama did eventually make a speech on race, but he did not do so until his hand was forced after some controversial remarks made by the former pastor of his church began to attract national attention. Many are still wondering why Clinton never gave the speech about sexism along the lines of Obama’s effort to deal with race. While this may indeed have been a lost opportunity, I am disappointed that neither candidate seized the moment to spark a national debate on a host of minority issues. It also seemed to me that both failed to fully appreciate and acknowledge the broader significance of their competitor’s campaign as well as their own. There was a moment when Clinton and Obama might have chosen to attack some of these challenges directly and possibly avoid the charges of racism and sexism that their supporters and surrogates hurled at the other side during the waning days of the contest.

The accusations and counter-accusations of prejudice and discrimination reflect the final paradox I would like to consider, something I refer to as the Balkanization of social justice movements. For reasons that I believe can not be reduced to self-interest, social movements typically work in isolation despite often attempting to bring about similar sorts of changes in society. This may unnecessarily limit the potential for social change and can jeopardize the long-term viability of the individual social movement groups. The Clinton-Obama situation provides an excellent example. Both missed an opportunity to synergize and have a more powerful impact cumulatively by engaging racism, sexism, and other forms of social prejudice. Instead they fought a proxy war through surrogates who argued that sexism was worse than racism or vice versa. By letting the situation degenerate into an “oppression Olympics” they failed to show any empathy for the other side. This was particularly worrisome because they each have a foot in both the minority and majority camps. Did sexism seem less important to Obama because he was a man? Likewise, was Clinton willing to come dangerously close to pandering to racial fears because she was white? As members of the millionaire club, were they both aloof to how their political posturing might exacerbate the frustrations of those in society for whom issues such as race, gender, and class have serious consequences? Despite being savvy politicians with impeccable educational credentials, is it unclear to them how much more might be achieved if we look for opportunities to forge coalitions that traverse conventional boundaries?

During my time in Japan I had several experiences which convinced me this is possible. In an effort to end on an optimistic note, I will end by recounting a couple of them here.

Anecdote 1: Train Man: One day as I was returning home via my customary train route, I noticed a man seated several feet away on the opposite side of the car. He was staring directly at me. As an African-American in Japan, I had grown accustomed to people stealing glances. But this was more than a furtive glimpse. In an effort to disrupt the ogling which was beginning to make me uncomfortable, I return his stare. Yet even the direct eye contact which is usually enough to divert the unwanted attention of a curious onlooker seemed to have the opposite effect. The man flashed a brief smile. Shortly thereafter I arrive at my destination. Eager to bring this odd encounter to a close, I step off the train and hurry towards the exit. Shortly as I pass through the ticket gate, a voice from directly behind me says “wait a minute.” Against my better judgment, I turn and the man who had been staring at me from afar was no standing directly before me. As I pondered what to do, he said something most unexpected. “We are the same.” At first, I did not understand his meaning. How could we possibly be the same? What could I possibly have in common with a Japanese man several years my senior? Perhaps sensing my confusion, he went on to explain himself by revealing to me that he was Korean. It still took a few minutes for me to comprehend what was happening. Obviously I was not from Korea. I seized the first moment to make this point and told him that I was an Amerika-jin. This information did not deter him. He went on to say that we both were foreigners.

Anecdote 2: We Shall Overcome: One of the more poignant illustrations of this transpired during an early welcome dinner for me shortly after I took up residence in Saiwaicho, the pseudonym for the location where I conducted my fieldwork. My welcome party broke out on in song: we shall overcome, we shall overcome, we shall overcome someday. . . It was a most unexpected development, so it took a moment to shake off the astonishment and add my voice to the chorus. Oh deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall overcome someday . . . This protest song from the U.S. Civil Rights Movement provoked nostalgic memories as I sang along. In my mind I could picture various scenes from documentaries of the 1960s: the protest marches in the deep South, the massive rally in Washington D.C. punctuated with the riveting “I Have a Dream” speech delivered by the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., the bravery of the freedom riders who were willing to step into the lion’s den and challenge American apartheid, and the deep, soulful voices of protest and conscience like Sweet Honey in the Rock, whose music continues to remind one of how, as I was now experiencing in Japan, music has played (and continues to play) a vital role as a source of healing, hope and determination for those on the front lines of social change.

As we began the second verse, my nostalgia began to give way to curiosity. We’ll walk hand in hand, we’ll walk hand in hand, we’ll walk hand in hank someday, oh deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome someday. . . How is it, I wondered that my hosts are so familiar with this song? Most of those singing were relatively close in age to the generation that came of age during the Civil Rights Movement. Surely, news of what was happening in the United States must have traveled overseas and reached Japan. Could this be the answer to the riddle before me?

We shall live in peace, we shall live in peace, we shall live in peace someday. . . started to panic at this point. I was having trouble remembering the lyrics. Born after the movement’s peak, I was a generation removed from the historic civil rights struggle. Consequently, most of my knowledge of this period of U.S. history came from secondary sources. Not having experienced it firsthand, I was not well versed in the minutia of the moment. Wanting to avoid having my ignorance become public knowledge, I began to hope that the singing would come to a close after we sang the chorus for a third time: Oh deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall overcome someday. . .

To my chagrin, the singing did not end. I resisted the temptation to lip synch and sat silently as the next verse was sung. I was forced to bide time by smiling and swaying my head side to side with the rhythm until I could chime in again during the chorus, the only thing I could sing with confidence at this point. It was painfully obvious that my companions were much better versed than I on this particular aspect of American culture.

I close with these two anecdotes because each forced me to rethink what it meant to be a minority. The incident with the gentleman on the train underscores not just the arbitrariness of minority categories but also that there is always an opportunity to forge new communities. Once I mentally adjusted to the social reality that I was in Japan and not the United States, I realized I had to come to a more flexible understanding of what it meant to be a minority. Clearly, because I had moved to a different cultural context, the social categories I was accustomed to would no longer allow me to comprehend the nature of my minority status in Japan. As I think about this experience now, I realize how the same process of opening my mind up to how various minorities are constructed in different contexts (both in the U.S. and Japan) can provide more opportunities to discover common ground and create political allies moving forward.

The second anecdote is a story I will always cherish because it humbled me and also gave me a deeper understanding of the historical importance of the Civil Rights Movement. I was humbled because I had encountered a group of people whose connection to the Civil Rights was much stronger than mine. For the first time I was able to fathom the difference between knowing history and living history. There was something in the song which resonated with my dinner hosts, something which might provide me with a clue to better grasping the significance of the Buraku Issue for this group. Much like the previous anecdote, it was a reminder of our ability to find (and forge) allies from many different places. More than anything, it reminded me not to discount the importance of history as I tried to make sense of what was happening in the present.

Both experiences illustrate the political leaps of faith possible between marginalized groups by underscoring just how arbitrary social divisions collapsed or traversed to make forge bonds between groups and spark new modes of political action. Moreover, each anecdote continues to serve as a beacon of hope at this particular time for a very personal reason. Many nights as I look upon my sleeping one-year-old daughter, I puzzle over perhaps the most puzzling paradox of all—how do I arm her be able to stand strong in the face of any social prejudice she will likely encounter without compromising her ability to celebrate fully her own humanity. Not wanting to dictate the sense of self she cultivates, I’ve not even figured out what words to use to explain her background. With an African American father and a Japanese mother, it is far from clear what to say. At times I think the less said the better since the problem is less an issue of her identity and more a question of any challenges she may encounter due to racism, ethnocentrism, or sexism. If I can teach her to embrace all facets of her being and remind her that there are many with whom she can stand in solidarity in both the U.S. and Japan, that may prove to be sufficient. Recognizing how many challenges are common to minorities in different places may help underscore that the root of any problem lies not within her but within dysfunctional dynamics which continue to make social justice an elusive goal. This is born out by the history of minority struggles all over the globe. Perhaps the key to empowering her to chart a bold new future is to push her to appreciate historical significance and subtleties of various minority struggles. It may seem paradoxical to turn to the past in an attempt to chart a better future, but integrating lessons learned from the frontlines of past and ongoing struggles provides the best chance to realize a hope to live in a society which treats all justly.