Early morning hours, post-Election Day 2008, and I found myself sitting on my back step, looking across a field and feeling anxious. It wasn't what I expected, having just experienced the spectacle of Barack Obama becoming president-elect.
In increasing intensity, I realized that my own personal experiences, not much unlike Obama's, would now be in the harshest spotlight in the world. And that was troubling me and zapping out any feeling of historical precedence, celebration.
I began a letter, to let this new president know that at least one person knew what he was up against. Silly, I thought. Never finished it.
I've been to a lot of places in my life, mostly around Minnesota. Save for a stint in the more diverse New York, the first question I often get when meeting people is the same. (And I've met a lot of strangers working as a journalist.) Where are you from?
Seems innocuous enough, right? It's a small enough thing to brush off, and I have, mostly. But I know the code there. "You don't look like you're from around here."
Imagine getting that all of the time. It can wear. And it can tell.
So enter the birther movement. Grand-scale "otherness."
And enter the human need, somehow now more than ever, for a bogeyman.