The GOP's Rainbow Coalition
The RNC's speakers are racially diverse, but don't expect the audience to reflect the lineup.
(The Root) -- As the Republican National Convention kicks off in Tampa, Fla., there are a few things you can bet on: a red, white and blue decorating theme, endless repetition of the term "Obamacare" followed by a chorus of jeers and a diverse parade of speakers making the case for the GOP team of Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan.
That rainbow coalition of onstage GOP stars is scheduled to include in part: Condoleezza Rice, the former secretary of state whose boss, George W. Bush, is conspicuously absent from the proceedings; Mia Love, an African-American Mormon from Utah who is running for a U.S. congressional seat; Florida Sen. Marco Rubio, a purported finalist to join Romney on the ticket before Ryan was named to the second spot; a gubernatorial trio of Nevada's Brian Sandoval, New Mexico's Susana Martinez and South Carolina's Nikki Haley; and Artur Davis -- an African-American former Alabama officeholder, Democrat and Obama supporter -- who is a chief talking point for Republicans challenged on their diversity bona fides. (Missing is a favored son businessman Herman Cain, who rose high before flaming out during primary season.)
But it's doubtful that the multiethnic tableau will be duplicated in the sea of delegates shouting "USA, USA." That's been the case for years at conservative gatherings where -- despite featuring the song stylings of a Chaka Khan (at the 2000 convention) or the occasional gospel choir -- minorities, particularly African Americans, are also greatly in the minority. As a journalist, I've noticed how the modern-day vision of the party of Lincoln has failed to attract voters in an America that is increasingly nonwhite.
A new NBC News-Wall Street Journal poll has President Barack Obama beating Romney 94 percent to 0 percent among black voters, and that is not a typo. It's a more extreme version of an advantage Democrats have built since the party's support of civil rights legislation in the 1960s and the adoption of the Republican "Southern strategy" that welcomed disaffected white voters.
Republicans have done some outreach, and Romney has hired a black communications adviser. But the presumptive GOP nominee got mixed reviews and reactions for an address before the NAACP when he promised to repeal "Obamacare," then quickly followed it with a speech to his base in Montana, warning about people who want "free stuff."
Ryan's austere budget proposals with cuts to social safety-net programs, as well as what looks like organized voter-ID efforts by mostly Republican-controlled state legislatures that disproportionately affect minorities, the elderly and the poor, are policy decisions that have made many black voters skeptical about the sincerity of the GOP's big-tent goals. This year's platform committee has endorsed those voter-ID rules, although Clarence Mingo, an African-American delegate from Ohio, "expressed some concern over the way the GOP presented its support for voter ID, saying it was necessary to 'demonstrate sincerity' that the issue was not about 'political gain,' " according to the Huffington Post.
Still, keeping up appearances is a ritual. Go to a conservative event and there will always be at least one black person on the stage, visible in every photo op of the candidate or speaker, as there was at a recent Romney-Ryan event in Mooresville, N.C.
What usually happens to me happened there, when a reporter, looking for a black Romney fan, started asking me questions. It's always the same, whether it's at the national Tea Party conference in Nashville or an NRA annual meeting in Charlotte, N.C. -- a hopeful look of discovery followed by disappointment when I reveal I'm just a reporter, too.