A Republican Black Woman’s Perspective on Politics and the Economy
During a presidential election year, it’s crucial for all of us to engage in discussions and understand what’s at stake. It’s irresponsible to ignore such important matters that shape our future. The popular vote often splits down the middle, with many people unwilling to see beyond their own perspectives.
Life as a Republican Black Woman
Let me share a secret rarely discussed in the African American community. Some of us live in fear because, despite going to college, finding good jobs, we don’t fully support President Obama. People assume I must support him just because I’m black. Being a Republican black woman seems inconceivable to many.
Sure, he’s a captivating speaker, but I don’t endorse policies that expand government’s powers endlessly. His administration’s racial and socio-economic divides disappoint me deeply.
Earlier, Sam asked, “Why Isn’t President Obama Considered White To The World?” It’s because he identifies solely as black, ignoring his Caucasian heritage. For my community, supporting him is a must; going against him is unthinkable. He’s lauded for rejecting his white roots, a stance I can’t adopt.
I’m pleased to offer a distinct perspective here as a Republican black woman FS reader. I hope it broadens your outlook, no matter where you stand politically. A little understanding goes a long way.
Growing Up in the South
I grew up in Norfolk, Virginia, with my mother and two younger brothers. Mom worked at the shipyard as an assistant; Dad left when I was eight. She earned around $28,000 a year, sometimes more with overtime. College wasn’t an option for her, and she knew her income wouldn’t rise much.
The three of us squeezed into a cramped two-bedroom downtown apartment. The boys shared one room, Mom and I the other. Our living situation never felt awkward; it was all we knew.
One evening, Mom came home in tears because her manager had embarrassed her in front of colleagues. I didn’t pry about the details; I just knew she was hurting. We talked for hours until she fell asleep, tears staining her cheek.
Next morning, she got up, dressed for work as usual. I asked sleepily, “What is it, Mom?” She smiled through her weariness. “I’m grateful for my job, no matter how tough it gets, knowing I can provide for you and your brother,” she said, then left.
In tenth grade, I vowed to go to college no matter what, determined not to let my mother suffer further. By then, she’d be 55.
Related: My Greatest Fear as a Republican Black Woman
Six years later, I graduated with a Business degree and joined a top accounting firm in Washington, D.C. I got a scholarship for half my tuition; the rest I paid from working summers at a Williamsburg diner and taking extra classes.
Back home, many friends skipped college for shipyard jobs like Mom’s or vocational school. Some became hairstylists. A decade on, they’re still there, complaining about wealthy people and struggling to find decent work. A quarter are unemployed or underemployed.
They supported President Obama, believing he’d take care of them. He became their crutch; they didn’t strive for more. My friends didn’t see the need to take charge of their lives; motivation faded like our high school dreams.
I fear many African Americans feel the same. Generous government aid makes it hard to break free from poverty. When $28,000 a year can support a family, and government aid offers similar sums without work, motivation evaporates.
Things Change
Today, I’m a principal at my accounting firm, and Mom no longer needs to work but chooses to. She moved from the shipyard to a local nonprofit teaching kids about education’s value.
I’m in the income bracket targeted for higher taxes to aid my Norfolk community. Yet, I doubt my money will reach them. Redistributing wealth won’t empower the lower-income; it’ll keep them dependent.
Instead, I give time and money directly to those I care about. More government handouts discourage work and keep my community down. We’ll never break the poverty cycle if living is subsidized.
People like me, successful African Americans starting with little, aren’t uncommon. A close friend, also a Republican black woman, shares my journey.
We never had a safety net; we walked a tightrope without one, preferring to starve than stay in our small towns on minimum wage. We worked day and night, embracing failure to succeed. We crossed the line and won’t let our kids grow entitled or fearful.
Famous Republican Black Women
Because of our race and the President’s race, we must support Obama and never dissent. We live in fear of community ostracization. Yet, more like Mia Love and other lesser-known politicians are sharing their stories. If Mia can rise from poverty in Haiti to Mayor of Saratoga Springs, Utah, anything’s possible.
Candace Owens seems today’s most prominent Republican black woman, but her divisiveness isn’t my taste. Other famous Republican black women include Stacey Dash, Angela McGlowan, Sheryl Underwood, and more.
Of course, we want President Obama to be America’s greatest President. None of us imagined a black President in our lifetime. Yet, with deeper divides than ever, Obama should focus on uniting, not dividing, our nation, especially economically.
Success is the Best Display
To help our community, we must show there’s hope at the rainbow’s end. I want to end poverty and prevent abrupt government fund cutoffs.
We need targeted efforts, not more welfare. Expanding government and handouts is like morphine: feels good initially but hooks us. While we’re hooked, the world moves past us.
Related posts: Why is the 2012 Presidential election so racially divided? Why were there so few minorities at the Republican National Convention?
About the Author
Sam launched Financial Samurai in 2009 to demystify financial chaos. With an MBA from Berkeley and over 13 years at Goldman Sachs and Credit Suisse, he accelerates readers toward financial freedom. Sam’s investing in AI growth companies with Fundrise excites him. He aims not to have his kids ask why he missed AI’s early days!
