Hakeem Holloway may be a classically trained musician who has played with orchestras around the world, but when he crosses an L.A. city street wearing his typical uniform of jeans and a hoodie, white women have been known to eye him, a black man, and clutch their purses more tightly to their sides.
Frank Gilliam, the dean of UCLA's School of Public Affairs, sometimes flies first class. When he does, white passengers often ask Gilliam, who is black, if he's a record producer -- if they talk to him at all.
Even as millions of black Americans revel in Barack Obama's victory and plan trips to his inauguration that are turning into pilgrimages, many still wonder if this transformative moment in American politics will truly transform perceptions of black men. How much, if at all, they ask, will Obama's victory shatter that glass ceiling?
The country may have become accustomed to seeing and hearing people of color populating various levels of power in almost all professions, but many people still cling to images that can be stubborn to erase. Is the prospect of a black man being ferried around in a presidential motorcade enough to curtail racial profiling of black drivers -- or as blacks mordantly call it, the crime of "DWB," driving while black?
Holloway, a 31-year-old double bassist with a master's in music performance from USC, says one problem for African Americans is that success often blinds people to color -- in the wrong way.
"We have plenty of black comedians, actors, athletes," Holloway said. "And plenty of time, everybody regards those people as not black. Michael Jordan? 'He's not black. He's Michael Jordan.' Barack Obama? 'He's not black. He's Barack Obama.' "
Murrell Garr Jr., associate pastor of the Friendship Baptist Church in Yorba Linda, expresses the hope that many feel: "As black men, we feel we have a voice now. We've been crying out in the wilderness. We have skills, qualities. Now people will give an ear to what we're saying.' "
In the past, whites often did not listen, instead projecting their own racial anxieties. "The image of the black man is fear," said Damian Thompson, 35, a self-employed graphic designer.
"I think Barack changes that and brings us the respect we deserve. There's a bunch of Baracks. We just don't get to be seen that way."
Others couple hopefulness with skepticism about the ability of an Obama presidency to change deeply ingrained racial perceptions. Gilliam, for one, has seen times of national fellowship come and go.
