Berkeley Blues
The young man in charge of checking people’s identification cards as you enter the University of California, Berkeley library noticed my faculty card. He stopped me.
“Say professor,” he said, “could I ask you a question?” I looked at his serious face. His eyes were deep brown, his skin even darker. His smile was warm and appealing. “Sure,” I answered, knowing that I was early for a two-hour library class to teach my students how to do electronic research.
“Do you think this country is ready for a black or a woman?” He asked as if he really cared, so I took his question seriously. “I don’t really know,” I answered honestly, “because Americans tend to lie to pollsters in public and vote differently in private.”




