 “Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.’’
–Billie Holliday
Traditional civil rights-era black leaders are treating Illinois Sen. Barack Obama, a presidential candidate, like strange fruit hanging from the ballot box, and it’s a crying shame.
 You may recall the song, Strange Fruit, by Billie Holliday, which condemned racism, particularly the lynchings of African Americans in the South.
What black civil rights leaders are doing politically to Obama is nearly as bad.
Almost daily, these black leaders from yesteryear can be seen on national TV questioning Obama’s blackness, or explaining why he should not be running for president at all.
Others offer reasons why blacks should throw their support to New York Sen. Hillary Clinton, a white female, instead of Obama, a black man. Still more question his experience, wonder aloud about his involvement in the black community, and lob subtle hints that his life experience has been, “too white.”
Such notions are not only unfair, but also painful to witness. These once-accomplished leaders embarrass themselves out of clear jealousy and fear. They are jealous of Obama’s past achievements and fearful of what else he might accomplish in a relatively short period.
Throughout the country, we have in the black community traditional, long-winded civil rights-era leaders who have a death grip on positions of social, political and community leadership. At a time when we are confronted with crippling issues like violence, AIDS, illiteracy, crime and drugs, we can no longer turn to this generation, or white folks, to address our needs.
Many of these leaders are on the other side of retirement age, and 1960s-era approaches will not solve these issues. We need a new generation to step forward.
But instead of grooming a younger generation or mentoring successors, these old-school leaders behave as if they will live forever. It is from this mindset that their indifference toward Obama is born.
They are the original “go to” negroes who believe everything must come through them, and that no one else can lead except them. The time has long since passed for them to let their people go…and assume the roles of mentors, advisors and disseminators of wisdom. Their time has passed.
The latest example of this comes from former U.S. Ambassador Andrew Young, a civil rights era icon, during a recent interview.
“Bill [Clinton] is every bit as black as Barack,’’ Young said. “He’s probably gone with more black women than Barack.” Later, he said he was just “clowning.’’
Continuing his shameless display of envy, Young went on to praise both former President Bill Clinton and his wife, Hillary Clinton, while piling on more excuses about why Obama should not be president.
“The thing about Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton, they have grown up basically in the black community.”
“I want Barack Obama to be president…in 2016.”
“It’s not a matter of his being inexperienced. It’s a matter of being young.”
When examining Obama’s candidacy, one is hard pressed to legitimize those criticisms.
Nevertheless, his life story has brought to the forefront a long-simmering undercurrent of tension and growing resentment between civil rights-era black leaders and those of us born in the 1960s and 1970s.
Obama is an educated, black, 46-year-old successful husband, father, former civil rights lawyer, author and businessman. He is representative of what most people would like to see their sons or relatives achieve. He has no criminal record, mistresses, or baby mamas demanding child support, something that cannot be said of the old-school leaders who question his blackness.
Nevertheless, these facts are not enough for black leaders to offer Obama even lukewarm support, or keep them from demeaning him, or his candidacy.
UNTRADITIONAL HISTORY
Obama’s entry into politics came with his election to the Illinois Senate in 1997. His signature issues included crafting racial profiling statutes and laws requiring the videotaping of police interrogations. These moves, unpopular at the time, touched on hot-button issues in the state.
Then, in 2000, Obama ran unsuccessfully for the U.S. Congress against former Black Panther, and incumbent, Bobby Rush.
In 2003, he announced his candidacy for the U.S. Senate against two better-known and better-financed white opponents. He was mesmerizing on the campaign trail, and became the talk inside the state, but got little national attention.
Still, his legend grew, leading to his recruitment to give the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. That provided the stage for his introduction to the nation and the world.
So compelling was his performance that it prompted serious discussion about his being on the John Kerry ticket, or running for president himself some day.
The national media attention that followed catapulted him to the U.S. Senate with a landslide election victory that garnered more than 70 percent of the vote. He became only the fifth black in U.S. history elected to the U.S. Senate, and is the only black serving there now.
As the darling of the Democratic Party, Obama on Feb. 10, 2007 announced his candidacy for the presidency before thousands of supporters in Springfield, Ill. The announcement came on the same day radio commentator Tavis Smiley held one of his “State of the Black Union” events at Hampton University in Virginia.
In the process, Obama shunned being on stage with most of the civil rights-era leaders who attended that program.
During the course of the day, Smiley and others made a point of letting everyone know Obama was invited but declined to participate. At that time, debate over Obama’s blackness really began to take off, first appearing on political blogs and later making its way into mainstream outlets.
Obama is the first black person ever to have a realistic opportunity to be on the presidential ticket of a major political party.
For the most part, he has arrived here through his successes in education, business and politics. That path is not akin to those who came of age by organizing protest marches or leading crowds in renditions of We Shall Overcome, and it rubs those of that genre the wrong way.
In Iowa, a predominantly white state that has never elected a black to any statewide or national office, the latest polls show Obama in first place among Democratic voters.
In New Hampshire, he is now in a statistical tie for first and is within striking distance of overtaking Clinton.
Many civil rights-generation throwbacks demonstrate their envy by downplaying his accomplishments.
Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, with all their baggage, have both run unsuccessfully for the presidency.
Not surprisingly, they are not enthusiastic about Obama’s history-making campaign.
Other black leaders take issue with Obama because he had the nerve to challenge Bobby Rush for his congressional seat, ran for the U.S. Senate without their approval, and secured the endorsements of police unions in the process.
Now, he is running a successful campaign for president and refuses to kiss their rings.
Black leaders’ criticism of Obama smacks of envy, and represents generational discrimination. Instead of treating Obama as strange political fruit, civil rights-era leaders would do well to assess his candidacy on its merits.
This is by no means an endorsement of Obama.
But if blacks refuse to give him an equal opportunity to become president, can we criticize whites for doing the same thing?
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