More politics. Sorry folks, I watched my very first live debate from beginning to end two weeks ago, and I have all of the exuberance of a new addict.

(N. B. I’m ashamed to say that until the age of…oh, 24 or so, I just handed my vote over to my dad, who diligently filled out an absentee ballot for me every November. Has anyone considered the political implications of large Mormon families with lazy college-aged children who allow their parents to vote for them?)

The kerfuffle (Curfuphle? Kurphufle?) among the Democrats these days is, of course, who’s going to win South Carolina, and All Things Considered did an interview this evening with a group of black female voters to find out whom they favored: Hilary the woman or Obama the black man?

Identity politics indeed.

(N.B. #2: I don’t actually know what “identity politics” refers to specifically, but it seems to fit. And does anyone else get annoyed that the men of the race are called by their last names while the woman of the race gets called by her first name? Since when are last names the sole province of men?)

The discussion was interesting to listen to. One woman said that when the Clintons were in office, they created jobs for her and her people, and when the Clintons left, the jobs stopped, so she felt safest with the Clintons. Another woman said that she had to think about what part of her identity was the most dynamic in her life—her gender or her race. She decided that the biggest problems she faces come because of her race, so she gave her vote to Obama, whom she believed would understand and do something. And then the comment that stuck with me the most:

“If my children and grandchildren ask me about the presidential campaign of 2008 when for the first time a black man was a serious contender, will I be able to tell them that I didn’t vote for him?”

This gave me pause. Would this logic work for me and my voting opinion? My religion is very central to my identity. Some of the problems or situations I face (inasmuch as I have problems and situations in this cushy life) arise from my identity as a Mormon. Certainly being Mormon affects the way people see me and constrains what I can and cannot do (or what I choose and choose not to do). So should my vote go to Romney, who understands my situation and might be able to do something?

Well, the comparison breaks down right there. First, because being Mormon and being black really AREN’T comparable, and I don’t face the entrenched collusions of race and prejudice and opportunity that many blacks contend with. So my “situation” really doesn’t necessitate presidential attention (although if he could arrange a nice post-doc and then some steady grant money for my neuroscientist husband, I’d be mighty thankful).

I’m also not hesitating agonizingly over Romney and Hilary (“Which one? Oh, which one should I choose? I just can’t decide!”). My voting record was solidly Republican until the age of 24, and I guess old habits are hard to break.

But let’s say—oh, let’s say that Condoleezza Rice had been prevailed upon to run. Then would the decision be harder for me? A woman candidate and a Mormon candidate, both capable people, neither of whom would get me kicked out of family reunions. The opportunity to put a woman in the White House versus the opportunity to put a Mormon in the White House… If my grand-daughter were ever to ask me what I did during the historic race of 2008 when a woman and a Mormon faced off for the presidency, would I feel any pangs of conscience that perhaps I chose wrong? Would I wonder if I’d made history the wrong way?

The answer, in my opinion, is that it shouldn’t matter.

Or should it? Or does it anyway? Dang it—the fact is, I want the best person to end up being President, and I think we shouldn’t vote based on a candidate’s similarity to our own set of personal demographics. But on the other hand, I am struck by the rather unique moment in history that this race presents (though if Ron Paul just happened to be Muslim, that would make everything complete). And yes, part of me wants to use my vote to make history.

Well, Michigan is tomorrow. I wonder how we’ll all be feeling by this time tomorrow night.

(N.B. #3: Who am I kidding? I’ll be feeling tomorrow night like I’m feeling tonight—a low-grade craving for chocolate and the wish that tomorrow were a holiday)

Happy Primary, everyone!