What must it be like?

I refuse to watch the Republican Convention. Not that I have much of a choice. I've been working most nights, but even if I were home, I wouldn't watch. It's too aggravating. It makes me ill.

But today, I read the news online and there, in the center of one newspaper or another, was a picture of people at the convention. Well, they weren't just people, they were men all dressed in red polo shirts, their white fake straw hats lifted in support, the caption read, of vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin.

All the men were overweight, that kind of hard thick stomach men of a certain age are prone to and all of the men, except one, were white.

What must it be like to be the one black man amidst all the white men? He'd have to notice wouldn't he? Or maybe his life has been surrounded by white men and in this particular crowd he feels at home. In addition to the men being white and thick stomached, they were all of a certain age -- 65 or older, perhaps -- with gray hair or hair that was clearly dyed and scraped with a comb wet to their heads.

Except the black man. He had some gray hair, but most of it was black and styled in a short afro, and though his hairline sat high on his forehead, his hair was thick and curly, markedly different from the men around him. Were these war veterans? Did this one non-white man spend his young adult life in some platoon or other surrounded by these very same white men? Or was this man simply caught up in the moment, swept by the emotion of the convention, a literal black sheep daring to show his allegiance for John McCain and Sarah Palin?

All the other pictures from the convention were of white men and women waving flags, holding banners, wearing pins, and looking desperately patriotic. I scrolled through picture after picture and did not see one other person of color in the crowd. I know they are there, but they are like specks of pepper in fields of salt -- difficult to spot and buried by the pure numbers of salt people.

What must it be like to be a Republican of color? I can only think of a few -- Condi Rice, Alan Keyes, and Colin Powell -- and only Colin Powell holds any sway for me. He seems more earnest than the others, more grounded in principal, though I suppose Alan Keyes in a maniacal sort of way is a man of strong convictions.

But the daily bread and butter Republican, the average man or woman, the kind who live in my neighborhood for instance, where are they in these photos? How large is the Black Republican Caucus? When they meet at conventions like this one, do they feel out of place or frighteningly lonely when they realize they make up a minor percentage of the Republican Party?

What must it be like?

Now that I think about it, my former neighbors were Republicans of color. They had a large photo of George W. in their garage (of all places) and though we were always friendly with each other, walking our dogs together a few nights a week, we never talked politics -- a silently agreed upon off-limits subject. But their conservative nature made sense. They were Miami Cubans and all their lives they were taught that Democrats were akin to Castro and Castro was himself the devil. I understood that kind of politics-by-heritage, but I can't seem to muster up the same kind of argument for other voters of color.

Our former neighbors were very nice people and most likely still are, but they had to move away because they lost their condo in the mortgage crisis. That was one of many contradictions I noticed about them. They were kind, friendly, passionate about some of the same social issues I was -- better mental health funding, supportive of gay marriage, and even pro-life. But they were (and still are) ardent Republicans, the same Republicans who seek to deny me the right to marry, who think it's okay to own an AK-47, who see war as a viable option even when all evidence advises against it, and deregulated the mortgage industry creating the greed that lead to the mess were in. Occasionally these former neighbors send us email postings extolling the virtues of John McCain and reciting the propaganda against Barack Obama, but mostly, we carry on pleasant conversations about our work and our dogs.

Still they did not go to the Republican caucuses in our state nor do they have a McCain bumper sticker on their SUV. While they have strong beliefs and those beliefs tend to sway to the right, they aren't about engaging anyone in a political debate. I can't picture them in St. Paul wearing red polo shirts or fake straw hats.

Does this matter to people? Does it matter to people that this Republican party on our television screens and in newspaper photographs is primarily white? I live in a neighborhood who would elect Obama in a heartbeat. I can't walk a block without seeing at least three Obama signs, but our neighborhood is primarily made up of people of color, though that is changing. And when I drive west to visit my parents in the Navy town in which they live or drive east over the mountains, there are very few people of color and consequently (or so it seems) very few Obama signs.

Instead, there are an abundance of Ron Paul signs and a few smatterings of McCain postings. I imagine the man I saw in the paper, black and smiling surrounded by white and cheering men, didn't feel nearly as out of place as a black man in conservative Eastern Washington with an Obama button on his lapel.

There are strength in numbers, I suppose, even if those numbers look nothing like you. Still, I can't help wondering, what must it be like?