Trumping Race or Gender: my long winded endoresement of Obama

Are you more connected to your gender or to your race? Choose wisely.

New York Times Video: Undecided in New York
(please watch this then read the post)

I'm a minority and I'm a woman. And since the Democratic race is between a black man and a white woman, it raises a few questions and a few revelations for me. The first being that not all voters are the same (duh). Some really study a candidate's platform while others simply see the Terminator supporting John McCain and vote for him. It's sad but true. Some people think, "I'm a guy so I'm going to vote for a guy." Some voters might think "I'm a woman and so I'm going to vote for a woman." Some may think, "I'm black so I'm going to vote for the black candidate."

The problem or situation is that when we as voters want to vote for the candidate we can personally relate to there are a few overlaps. When John Edwards left the race I began to think how will I be voting in this election? Will I be voting as a woman or as a minority? Like the New York Times video above says: does race trump gender?

I thought so.

I assumed that since I am Indian that other Indians will be voting for Barack Obama as well. It's silly now that I sit back and think about it but I assume that since we all have that common minority connection that clearly we'd vote for the ethnic minority candidate. But while scrolling through Facebook I noticed that an Indian friend of mine was cheering for Hillary Clinton in her status. 'How odd' I thought.

(Evan Vucci/Associated Press)

My mother and I began to talk about why another minority might vote for Clinton rather than for Obama. "Well keep in mind," she said, "some Indian families have that overwhelming pressure to have sons. So growing up as a woman in a household that worships having sons might make some Indian women want to vote as a woman rather than as a minority."
Good point mama.

I was lucky enough to be raised in a house where gender wasn't an issue (mostly because my father was well outnumbered and had surrendered long ago to the fact that he didn't really wear the pants in the family). My mother showed me the video above and I think it's a fantastic way to capture what young, minority women are going through during this primary race. It's not easy and what it really boils down to are two things--the masks we wear and this idea of suffrage.

Call it bitter but the way I look at which 'label' I fit under better is the 'label' that's hurt me the most. Have i been discriminated more because I am a woman or because I am non-white...I think those of us who are in this limbo category think like this because we bond more closely to the issues that separate us from others.

Looking back I have experienced both racial discrimination and gender discrimination (it's NOT a perfect world). But what stings most and what I've experience more is racial discrimination. You want the brutal recap?

• When I was in third grade a group of kids threw stones and sticks at me and called me a nigger.
• In first grade I was told that I was 'too dark' to be friends with a classmate.
• My sophomore year of high school during a heated debate a classmate shouted that Hinduism is 'bunk and crap' and pointed her pasty finger straight at me.
• At a department store in Wisconsin a woman ignored me while I was trying to ask her a question. Then she turns to her co-worker and asked, "what does that dark girl want?"
• A few months ago, I went to a Halloween party at a rural Oregon college and was asked if I was a 'sand nigger.'

I'm not wearing these as badges of pride and I'm not voting out of anger. But I would absolutely without-a-doubt want a president who could step into my shoes and see the major issues I think America faces through my eyes. I can't (and believe me I've tried) ask any of my white friends to do this. I'm not trying to sound snobby when I say it's something they will never fully understand. I've heard their arguments before and they just don't stand up. What I see in Barack Obama is a candidate with a strong sense of what America is made of--the good and the bad. He's a candidate that is taking a deeper look into what America's problems are and what can we fundamentally do to change them. Does it help that he is black? Absolutely. But it's certainly not the only reason why I am voting for Barack Obama.

It's silly how it took me this long to realize this but this election, reflects a greater choice I am making about who I am. I'm a woman and I am also a racial minority. And at the end of the day women minority voters have to ask themselves 'which is more important to you?'

A new breed of Indians: GenYHindustanis

During my most recent trip to India I learned that there is a new type of Indian immigrant--one that doesn't cater at all to US customs but rather only soaks up the greediest parts of US cultures.

"Oh my GOD!" I screamed. You could tell she was trying very hard to hold back her laughter. I, on the other hand, was trying my hardest not to cry. "God damn!" Another white sticky strip revealed a thick patch of black hair.

I hadn't the foggiest idea why I was sitting in the beautician's flat-turned-beauty salon getting all the arm hair ripped off my tanned arms. I just wanted to get my eyebrows threaded and maybe a facial if it wasn't going to be too expensive. But as I was about to get off the barber chair and hand her the wad of rupees my mother gave me earlier, she grasped my arms and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. In Marathi she told me that I wasn't planning on leaving here until she waxed my arms. Her eyes never left my arms as I told her in my broken Marathi that I didn't think it was that bad. Suddenly my sister chimed in that she was glad to have someone point out my 'monkey arms'.

Ten minutes later I was cursing and hooting loudly, while my sister kept a steady hand on my shoulder and the beautician ripped away at the one thing that kept my arms warm from a gentle breeze. To distract me, the beautician began to pepper me with questions about my life in America. 'Boyfriend?' she would say in skeptical English I rolled my eyes and she laughed. 'No boyfriend,' I told her, 'too busy with my career.' She huffed a little and continued to slather my arms with wax. I told her that in America, I was trying becoming a journalist. It was hard work, and because of that I didn't have time for a boyfriend--or in her case a husband. She smiled at me and stared hard--almost examining me.

She thought I was in India visiting because I was trying to find a husband. Her son was around my age. Working in Pune as an engineer but currently in Goa preparing for a New Year's party. It was the awkward pause in the air--her son. Me. My age. My citizenship. Our unmentioned perfect fit. No deal. No way. And it's very simple why: me and her son are two very different breeds of Indians.

There are a new breed of Indians walking around in the motherland. They are the generation Y of India and quite honestly, they terrify me. Partly because I don't give them the ample amount of time and energy to listen to them. My fault. But partly because this new breed of Indians just distances me farther from a people I'm supposed to feel connected to. Their fault.

This new breed of Indians are the complete opposite of the previous generation of Indians that immigrated to the U.S. (what I like to think are my parents). I'll call them, Generation Y Hindustanis and they are an incredibly proud people. They love India--deeply-- the way I love chocolate. It's a flourishing passion-- for a country that is so incredibly eclectic it puts those documentaries you might catch on the Travel Channel to shame. This pride extends to every facet of their lives-- from their education to their iPods (Yes iPods in India. None of my new gadgets impressed my cousins this time around). To these Indians there is no turning cheek to the motherland. It's mama after all and I can't blame them, but I have every right to be baffled by them-- especially when they come to the U.S. bearing the same attitude.

My parents came to this country starving for a change of scenery. They were reluctant at first but came from a family without luxuries and therefore brought with them a curious eye to the States. They tried pizza for the first time, found the similarities between Mexican grocery stores and open bazaar markets back home. They met new people who wore 10-gallon-bucket cowboy hats and spoke with a twang that my mother later admits she couldn't understand. They listened to a Dolly Parton tape (and still do).

Mom told me later that she and my father had plans to go back to India. But then they had children (a pretty great pair of them if I may say so myself) and everything changed. Suddenly they didn't see strange accents or odd-smelling food--they saw schools that held more computers than my father had ever seen growing up. They saw clean water, streets and homes. And wonderful neighbors who's children could play with their own. They saw potential in the U.S. something today's Generation Y Hindustanis don't see in the U.S. anymore--or perhaps ever did see.

America's Generation Y

These new Indians come to the states, for short term projects and have all the comforts of the motherland right in front of them: Indian grocery stores, Indian restaurants, and most importantly Indians--fresh from the east. Things my parents didn't have. Their goal, as far as I'm understand, is to make as much money as they can here and then move back to India where they can bump up a few status quos. Generation Y Hindustanis are insular Indians--they only eat indian food, they only hang out with Indians from the same state, live life just as they would in India--only here in the US.

My mother's friend from India recently came to stay with us. Her daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter are living the States right now, but plan to move back to India within this next year. Fine. Dandy. But then I hear from my mom's friend that this small family has been living in the states for almost a year, completely void of everyday items. For example--they don't have any furniture. They sleep on the floor. They refuse to let their two-year-old daughter play with anyone but Hindu, Indian children. You've got to be kidding me right? I wasn't aware of any of this. Before our friend came to stay with us I would often talk to her daughter and ask about how she was enjoying living in the states--"Horrible" she would tell us over the phone. "I can't wait to go back," she would tell us in a whiny tone.

Horrible? This coming from a woman who has spent the rest of her life in a third-world country? Where toilet paper has yet to be popularized? Us? Horrible? What's the deal here? I pegged her right then and there as a Generation Y Hindustani. After our guest went back to her daughter's family (and eventually back to India) my parents began to rant about the Indians who come to American today. "Spoiled brats" says my father. He recalls meeting a new employee at work who came straight from India and was planning on living in the States for about two years (or perhaps indefinitely). "His first car?" my dad asks me, "A Lexus! The man was driving a Lexus!"

(dallas morning news) India's Generation Y

The American dream is gone when an immigrant couple purchase a brand new Lexus as their very first American car. What happened to those Indians who were poorer than dirt back in India and worked to the bone to get here? Where are those Ellis Island immigrants that came to the states, had a kid and then thought, "This is where I want to raise my child,"?

Is it us? Did the US loose all that shimmer and gleam it had back in the day? Has it drifted from that Land of Milk and Honey reputation? I can't say--but i can say that Indians now see Paris Hilton and mini skirts when they think of the US--and that can't be good for our reputation.

Generation Y Hindustanis don't dream of minimum wage like the previous generation of immigrants did. They live in the motherland right her in the states--they don't have to leave India while they stay here temporarily. They come they eat they leave. They are like in-laws to the U.S. And that's shameful. They toot their horns at us, and tell us (first generation Americans) we aren't Indian--they tell us that we are the foolish ones for going to school here and eating hot dogs--for celebrating Diwali and Halloween in the same month. Generation Y Hindustanis snuff their noses at us. And it's a damn shame too--because I feel sorry for them.

I remember in college how the study abroad office would remind students to appreciate, respect and integrate into the new countries they were going to be living in. But are we then pegged as flag-wearing republicans when we ask foreigners to do the same for us? There is something incredibly wonderful about this country and I take great pride in the fact that I live here. But I don't like seeing immigrants--more particularly Indians treat us like a doormat. Live properly if you live here--sleep in a bed (especially when you have a kid). Try unique foods, be open to diversity, change and adventure.

I urge this new breed of Indians to shrug aside the image they may have of the US (French fry eating, Britney Spears freaks) and take in their surroundings and realize how completely easy they have it today. Perhaps it's that India isn't the same as it was when my parents left. It's far more Westernized for sure--and perhaps that translates into a fresher mindset than what my parents lived with. I'm learning slowly that being an immigrant today is not the same as being an immigrant 20 years ago. It's harder and it's easier at the same time...so is there really a resolution here? Something to calm me down?

It seems that every time I go back to India, I leave something behind. This time around it was my arm hair but a little respect for India is left behind as well. It's a tragedy to see this new generation of indians walk into the US--and I'm well aware that not all of them are the same--but I hope that with more immigration and more travel--both the US and India can change--could we both learn a lesson here? I hope so.

So a blonde walks into a campaign...

One of my favorite editorial writers, Leonard Pitts Jr., wrote an editorial on November 19th about the Vegas Democratic Debate. I admire the sarcastic but honest writing that comes from Pitts. Kind of like Dave Barry meets Anderson Cooper. Serious but sweet. Humble but harsh.

I had the great pleasure of meeting Mr. Pitts at the National Writers Convention in Portland when I was in high school. He spoke so boldly and genuinely that you can't help but respect the man. I didn't know at the time who I was listening to--still so new in journalism--but I quickly became a fan of his editorials and keep an eye out for a good one in the Op-Ed pages of my local newspaper.

The November 19th editorial was about Hillary Clinton and she is perceived by the public.

"So, how do we beat the bitch?" Did I get your attention?

The editorial talks about the incident where Senator John McCain chuckles at that question presented to him by one of his female supporters. I honestly didn't hear about this incident--aside from some references made on The Daily Show or The Colbert Report.

At first i didn't think much of the comment--but made me dislike McCain supporters more than I already did, but I didn't give it as much thought. But Pitts dives in deep. While Senator McCain chuckled and later apologized (he said he didn't approve of such language and didn't think his opponent was a 'bitch' at all), Pitts writes that his reaction was very grotesque and telling of the McCain's caliber.

"Can you imagine if the Democratic front-runner were Sen. Joe Lieberman and the woman said, 'So, how do we beat this hebe?' Can you imagine if it were Gov. Bill Richardson and the woman said, 'So, how do we beat this spic?' Can you imagine if it were Sen. Barack Obama and the woman said, 'So, how do we beat this coon?'"

Now here Pitts writes about Clinton herself. He writes that as a person she isn't someone he would 'figuratively' cuddle up with. She, Condi Rice, Nancy Pelosi, other women political figures aren't--to him--very approachable. And that's where I was taken aback. I always looked at Pitts as a very fair person but to say that women in power are very off-putting to him made me upset.

Sure, I don't like Clinton myself I find her campaign tactics pathetic and calculated--and I can't see myself not sitting with her at a coffee shop talking politics...naaaah. (but that's not to say I wouldn't have coffee with her, given the chance...Hillary? Coffee?) But why overgeneralize and make it sound like you have a beef against women in power. Pitts writes:

"Nancy Pelosi, Janet Reno, Condoleezza Rice, Madeleine Albright . . . They all seem formidable, off-putting, cold.

Which suggests the problem here is not so much them as me. And, if I may be so bold, we. As in, we seem unable to synthesize the idea that a woman can be smart, businesslike, demanding, capable, in charge, and yet also, warm."

What do you mean we? I'm slightly offended. And, sure, there is a certain part of me that is thinking I might me a minority in this 'we' Pitts is talking about. I am proudly a new-wave feminist--I embrace femininity but hold firm to the belief that the suffrage movement was not in vain. But, Pitts is having me believe that I am crazy to think that a woman could be president since they are so cold and off putting. Now, I don't intend to vote for Hillary Clinton but her gender doesn't play a part in that decision. It's her policies and her politics that do.

So it's a double-edge sword. Be a nurturing, sensitive and caring female and appear weak politically? Or be a tough, determined and business-like and get tagged as a bitch? Do I have a different definition of 'bitch'--different than what Pitts is driving at? So how does this work? How does personalities fit into politics? Do we want nice politicians or someone who will get the job done...is it possible to have both...

This all reminds me of some great conversations I've had in some of my political theory classes in college. How does passion play into politics--some say it's everything others says it's frivolous. I recall a quote from one of my favorite movies "A Few Good Men". It was the movie that got me hooked on Washington and really cemented my love of politics.

Scream your justice Tom Cruise! (A Few Good Men 1992)

"I represent the government of the United States without passion or prejudice..." It's a small quote, but it got me thinking about what that means to represent the government without passion. If that's how it goes then does that mean we don't look at the person behind the candidate...but most of us know that's not how we vote. We want to vote for the candidate that appeals to us not necessarily because of what they stand for but maybe because, as my one friend put it 'they smile a lot...they just have a nice smile'. huh.

Pitts redeems himself in the end. He sees the flaw in all this. McCain's response was disappointing but spoke to a greater issue in this country--the country's perception of women politicians. But they still read high in my books. Fear not Pitts, not all of us have that image of women in politics.

YouTube brings in the Young Americans

What are the odds that a presidential hopeful will come to your dorm room? Slim. But possible.

During one of my random visits to YouTube I saw a thumbnail photo of a video clip with the headline: "Congressman Ron Paul Visits my Dorm Room." I was half expecting a college nerd (the kind who tells his friends to vote for him in the 2020 election after he nabs the partner status at a law firm and the blonde Leave-it-to-Beaver wife), shabbily dress as Ron Paul and giving a mock interview to his roommate who happens to own a webcam.

On the contrary! My click lead to a sharply dress college student named James who spoke as if he watched one-too-many Situation Rooms, but who spoke with authority about the upcoming election. Suddenly, there was Ron Paul sitting on his left--looking a little awkward with your standard dorm room fixtures in the background but on the whole eager to talk about himself, his foreign policy stance and his 'libertarian' views about the Internet.

The video was only 4 minutes long--the entire 30-minute interview can be found on Jame's YouTube profile--but as the novice interviewer shook hands with Congressman Paul, I felt so giddy inside. Imagine! Presidential hopefuls making stops at college dorm rooms to take the time to shoot the shit with one of their most important pool of voters: young Americans.

When it comes to the elections young voters are an often overlooked minority. P-Diddy told us to Vote or Die on those MTV commercials. And over the summer, YouTube hosted a live debate with the Democratic candidates where not only were video questions humorous and creative but they were from a variety of young voters. But on the whole coverage of young voters is very similar to that of minorities--hyped up during major events but come the closing of the polls, there's not much talk of young voters.

So like minority coverage in the media, when it comes to young voters there can be good press and bad press. Good press could mean coverage that highlights young voters in a new light--one omitting Mp3 players, weed, skateboarders, mini skirts, and bleached blonde highlights. Good press could actually probe something like Facebook to find out what young voters are curious about. Today, a Facebook profile can dawn widgets regarding Breast Cancer research, Darfur, Burma, Bono's ONE.org anti-poverty organization.

Diversity Coma

I'm in a city with approximately 60% African American.

I'm not exaggerating this is a fact. You can check the most recent US Census Quick Facts to see this.

So why, in one of my first group internship meetings did I hear the editor of my publication say that the African American population is growing in Washington DC and there must be, "why...25% blacks now..." I was dumbfounded.

First thought: Has this man stepped outside lately??
First reaction: A small chuckle (you've got to be kidding me right?) which lead to awkward glances from the other interns--did people really think that was true?

I spent a semester in Washington DC last year devoting my time to a research project that became the inspiration for this blog. My research compared the Washington Afro-American to the Washington Post in terms of their coverage and staff, thereby reflecting on the notion that a diverse newsroom could lead to diverse coverage, which could lead to a diverse readership.

My resources were dated though. I did a short but comprehensive study on the African American press--it's creation it's height and downfalls--and then talked about various ethnic newspapers in the United States and the kind of relationship they have with the main stream press. After my semester in Washington, I continued to follow up on my topic because despite the hectic hours i put into that 40-page-paper I enjoyed investigating into the inner workings of media big-wigs and why is it that there is still a staggering number of minorities inside a newsroom.

As a minority journalist working in today's ethnically homogeneous media--I'd like to try to change that. Or at least bring attention to it.

After hearing that small but stinging statement from my editor I became more aware of my surroundings. One Hispanic print intern, one black online full-time staff and then rest of the dismal minority population worked in advertising or design. Which was great--but their presence in advertising or in design doesn't contribute to the voice of the publication. Writers hardly sees those in design and advertising...

Once again, I found myself to be the only minority at a publication. And this publication in particular serves a city that holds more African Americans than Whites. But that fact is not really visible in the pages of our magazine. Is it because I work in a magazine rather than a newspaper? Is it because this magazine is openly geared to those with a college degree and with a certain income level?

No...I'm not buying it. Diversity is asleep at the wheel--it's all talk. I'm weak just typing about it. Diversity for all intents and purposes is in comatose--the idea, the issue is there but there isn't much we are doing about it--just sitting there drooling on itself. Perhaps I'm choosing these publications for a reason--maybe, but I had better expectations for a Washington publications--there wasn't a whole lot of diversity in the towns I've interned at before. Still Googling names, newspapers and key terms about diversity in the media and still finding old stats that I recall from my research days and even beyond that. How embarrassing. The Knight Foundation did a survey about diversity in major newspaper newsrooms. It's a pretty impressive report from 2005. Users can click on a state and then select their town paper to access a full 'diversity' report about their staff, circulation and a comparison between the two. I looked at some of these statistics in hopes to find a place to work after this internship--I'm tired of being the only minority in the newsroom. But am i ready to pull the plug on diversity--there is still something to be done...but who wants to touch a comatose, drooling thing?

That still shouldn't oust the African American population from our readership. Besides even if it is a magazine--it's a city magazine so there is a legitimate reason and focus to address more 'diverse' issues. Why don't I read more about Anacostia in my magazine? I wonder if in the article on best hair--if the writer talks about best places to purchase a quality weave?

I can see a bigger urge to promote diversity for a newspaper, rather than a magazine. This is a specialized field of journalism where the writing and reporter is tailored to fit a certain audience. Today we have magazine's such as JET and Ebony based in Chicago that have a solid national circulation. But my magazine is not standing up to it's claim...is it really a Washington magazine if it doesn't accommodate to all of the district's population?

Since I've presented my research in April, I've still Googled terms such as "newsroom diversity" "minorities in the newsroom" "minority journalists" There must be a hundred pages I've already seen and the ones that I haven't seen yet are so outdated it seems just plain weird to talk about diversity at that time. Now more than ever it is important to address these issues--when we have a city like Washington DC or Los Angeles with a high "minority" population than a White population. Why are we (the media) turning our eyes away from these statistics--this group of readers waiting to connect with our publication?

I know why...but I don't have the heart to say it. It's a painful truth--a similar pain I felt when I heard my editor continue his talk without even flinching after telling us that the DC black population is 25%.

What did you say Shmarock?

I'm not going to say who I am going to vote for in this upcoming election but let's just say his name rhymes with "Shmarock Shmobama".

When I first heard that a ethnic minority candidate was running for office I was thrilled. For my African American history class we read Mr. Shmobama's book, The Audacity of Hope where he talks about the problems Americans and America are faced with and the possible solutions to those problems. The book was very detailed and touched on everything from racism to outsourcing. Basically the book should have ended with, "and that's why I should be the next president of the United States..."

The book only cemented my vote for Shmobama--as it is, if you read about his background you can see that he is a very eclectic person. If elected, he would be one of the only presidents who has lived abroad (not for wartime purposes). He studied not only the Christian faith but the Buddhist, Hindu and Islamic faith (especially after living in Indonesia). So it came as a huge surprise to hear that he spoke negatively about the Punjabi population in the US last week.

The issue was outsourcing and while trying to combat Clinton on the issue, Schmobama pointed to the fact that Clinton and her husband both support companies with major bases in India. Earlier in the year, Clinton has stated to Indian officials that she would easily get a seat in India's congress. Referencing this statement, Schmobama called Hillary, Senator Punjab. Ouch.

Punjabi people, like a lot of Asian immigrants, are hard working people. In the height of the outsourcing issues, Indian -Americans are suffering backlash for actions beyond their control.

Ouch Schmobama...don't stoop to that level! You have a good portion of the ethnic minority population backing your candidacy--bad move. I am still voting for dear Schmobama, but not another outburst like this, please.

The First Day of Work

This is ridiculous. Seriously, sit down, grab some popcorn and a pillow and enjoy this delightful story about my first day of work.

First things first--I was nervous, so nervous in fact, that even though I looked at the maps, checked Google Maps and all that jazz I still got slightly lost. I walked in the opposite direction of my office. I finally walked into a executive building, asked the security lady at the front desk if she had a phone book and told her it was my first day of work and I was nervous as hell. She smiled at me, said it was fine and told me that my office was two blocks down (not up) and wished me luck.

I get to work, and at the very first meeting me and the other intern had was with the online editors as well as the heads of the Web department. We were both asked what we enjoyed writing about. My fellow intern co-worker enjoys writing about fashion, I told the Online Editor that I was more interested in Politics but was still new at political writing. They told me I was in the right city.

Right away my boss comes up to me during computer training and says 'Shefali, take a look at this and let me know if you would like to cover it for our Capital Comment blog.' I read the email he handed to me and it was about a discussion on faith, values and politics with Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, and John Edwards hosted by Sojourners Magazine (a faith-based magazine).

This is HUGE! The talk would be video taped live by CNN at George Washington University's Lisner Auditorium. The discussion (not debate) was monitored by a panel of religious leaders who wanted to ask the democratic candidates questions about faith and religion.

First thought: You want ME to cover this?
First response: Yeah sure!

Over lunch my boss ran over what exactly this all entailed, (who to talk to, what to pay attention to etc...) He warned me that I needed to be firm and authoritative--"Don't cower or act shy. If they say you aren't on the list tell them they must have an old list and say that you are with us. We hold a lot of stock around here and they'll want you to cover this." This was my first time writing a blog--aside from this one. I got butterflies in my stomach thinking that I might meet Obama, Clinton and Edwards.

Like any other event I've covered I did all the prep work, research and all that jazz. I even charged the batteries to the digital camera I was going to bring. I sent Sojourner's my credentials and was ready to head out. I even left early so that I knew where to walk to in case I got lost. After scarfing down a bottle of water and a pretzel I walked right up to the 'Media Only' entrance. At the door I told the suited student (who was not much older than me) my name and who I worked for. He scans through the list and told me that I wasn't on the list. When he asked his boss, a short, blond-haired woman with narrow glasses, who looked overworked and stressed what to do, she asked me when did I send in my credentials. I told her I sent them this morning and she told me that the credentials for the press were closed yesterday. Ouch.

First thought: Shit, I'm screwed and on my first day too.
First response: "Well I have to cover this."

She rolled her eyes at me and I turned back outside to see a mob of people holding blown up poster-size photos of aborted babies, megaphones, fliers, banners and flags. This was huge, it was my first assignment. I can't just go home...

Remembering what my boss told me--I told the woman that the list must be wrong and that it would be a shame for my magazine (a well-known magazine in the D.C. area) not to have this story in its pages. She rolled her eyes again (God, I hated that) and told me that if i wanted to get in I would need to wait and see if any other press show up. That would be around 6pm. Checked my watch, I had enough time. Good.

I putzed around outside till about 12 min before 6pm when I saw another reporter taking photos of the mob outside. 'Good call," I thought and reached down for my camera. Suddenly I realized that I didn't take the batteries that were charging....they were still in the office.

First thought:FUCK! No batteries and I had about 8 minutes now to get into this place.
First response: No time to respond...AH! Making a mad dash down the street..."THINK! Is there a CVS, a pharmacy nearby...what do these big colleges have?"

I ran down the sidewalk about a block from the auditorium and asked a woman if she knows of a CVS nearby. Nope. "Think, think...stupid big schools...BOOKSTORE!" Turned to the map of the campus I saw next to me and saw that the bookstore was in the building I was standing right in front of. "Brilliant!"

Ran up the stairs of the sleek building, then down the stairs to the ground floor where I saw displays of various sweatshirts and t-shirts. Turned the corner in time to see a student--looking exhausted and beat--lock the door of the store.

First thought: NO! Goodbye Washington, this was fun.
First response: began praying in front of her, showing my boss's business card and pointing towards the auditorium and then to my battery-less camera.

She sighed, yelled at her own boss whether to let me in or not and got a "fuck, alright," in return. $6.49 later I was back at the front of the media entrance where the young man asked for my name and company. There were two other reporters standing next to me who had also missed out on the credential deadlines. We all chuckled at one another and could sense a small amount of embarrassment at not making this very important deadlines...we were reporters for crying-out-loud. The man next to me was an elderly but suave fellow and when he told his name to the young man at the desk he cleared his throat and said, "Michael Duffy, Time Magazine." I gasped a little because I had read his articles before. He gave me a strange look, grabbed his press pass and stepped inside.

Michael Duffy! HAH! He's human just like the rest of us. I felt like such a nerd at that moment. The young man handed me a press pass. I beamed and quietly told him that it was my first day at the job. "Holy crap, look at what you are covering" he said. I felt so cool right then and there.

I walked into the auditorium greeted with soundboards, massive CNN cameras, and a nearly-packed crowd of religious fanatics, politicos, and TV/Magazine/Newspaper reporters.
The press had reserved seating and we faced either the left or the right of the stage. A CNN camera was swooping above our heads and I so badly wanted to turn around and wave and scream "Hi mom..." but I'm an adult now and we don't do that do we....damn.

Took some photos, some really cool ones. Not sure yet if I can stick any of them up on this blog--I'll be sure to ask though. (for now i got this off of the Christian Post) Saw Barrack, Hillary and John...didn't meet them...it was only my first day. But DAMN, what a day.

I figure since I work in the online section of the magazine I should really get back into this blog. Keep an eye out for more updates--at least for this 'web' summer.