Jeremy's work has appeared in:
The New York Times
Assocaited Press
The Dallas Morning News
Gambit Weekly of New Orleans
Baton Rouge Business Report
225 Magazine
Imagine Magazine
Shreveport Times
Shreveport Forum
Independent Weekly of Lafayette
Lafayette Advertiser
Times of Acadiana
Houma Daily Courier
Bayou Business Review
Thibodaux Daily Comet
Louisiana Life Magazine
Country Roads Magazine
Progressive Engineer
Bee Culture Magazine
The New York Times
Assocaited Press
The Dallas Morning News
Gambit Weekly of New Orleans
Baton Rouge Business Report
225 Magazine
Imagine Magazine
Shreveport Times
Shreveport Forum
Independent Weekly of Lafayette
Lafayette Advertiser
Times of Acadiana
Houma Daily Courier
Bayou Business Review
Thibodaux Daily Comet
Louisiana Life Magazine
Country Roads Magazine
Progressive Engineer
Bee Culture Magazine
Awards and Honors:
The Alliance of Area Business
Publications
Competing against writers for
publications in New York, Los
Angeles and elsewhere, Jeremy
won second place this year for best
personality profile on Bobby Jindal
and his gubernatorial campaign,
which appeared in the Baton Rouge
Business Report. The competition is
judged by the Columbia School of
Journalism at the University of
Missouri.
Louisiana Press Association
Since 1998, Jeremy has won more
than a dozen LPA awards for his
writing and reporting. This year,
Jeremy received first place for best
continuing coverage of a
governmental issue through his
work in the Independent Weekly of
Lafayette.
The Alliance of Area Business
Publications
Competing against writers for
publications in New York, Los
Angeles and elsewhere, Jeremy
won second place this year for best
personality profile on Bobby Jindal
and his gubernatorial campaign,
which appeared in the Baton Rouge
Business Report. The competition is
judged by the Columbia School of
Journalism at the University of
Missouri.
Louisiana Press Association
Since 1998, Jeremy has won more
than a dozen LPA awards for his
writing and reporting. This year,
Jeremy received first place for best
continuing coverage of a
governmental issue through his
work in the Independent Weekly of
Lafayette.
The Politics of Difference
While Louisiana has seen isolated moments of racial friction over
Barack Obama’s election, the tenure of Bobby Jindal has been
remarkably quiet.
By Jeremy Alford
Philadelphia’s Congress Hall is no stranger to historic moments of
awkwardness involving presidential power. George Washington, a
man seemingly born proud, was inaugurated there before his
second term in 1793. Four years later, it was the chosen place for
the inauguration of John Adams, a man seemingly born bitter. When
the ceremony ended, Adams waited for Washington to exit the
House chamber, possibly as a symbolic gesture of the Old Guard
giving way to the new. But neither Washington nor Adams budged.
Not surprisingly, the cold stare of the battle-hardened general won
out and Adams vacated the chamber first with head bowed.
A similar political tit-for-tat transpired in the northwest corner of
Independence Square last week, although it wasn’t as evident as
the classic Washington-Adams staredown. President-elect Barack
Obama, a Democrat, had invited every U.S. governor to Congress
Hall to discuss the nation’s precarious fiscal situation. Just below
the surface, the gathering also offered a preview of the potential
GOP challengers to Obama in 2012. Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, most
recently the Republicans’ choice for vice president, was there, as
was Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty and Florida Gov. Charlie Crist. It
was a bold move for the commander-in-chief-to-be to bring such
folks into the discussion.
But it was Obama’s handshake with Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal,
another GOP darling, that provided the picture-perfect moment.
The image of America’s first black president shaking hands with the
nation’s first elected Indian-American governor spoke volumes
about how far this nation has come. They are arguably among the
most powerful men of color to ever sit in Congress Hall in an official
capacity. Yet, despite their accomplishments, race and ethnicity still
play a divisive role in American politics. Nothing makes a politician,
reporter or voter stammer more than the topics of race and
ethnicity, as if choosing the correct words is the difference
between tolerance and intolerance, regardless of intent.
As Obama and Jindal discussed hurricane recovery and other
issues last week, the mother of two students from Pineville Junior
High School in central Louisiana was raising hell because the
school’s principal barred her children from wearing jackets
featuring a photo of the president-elect. The principal told
reporters it had more to do with the school’s dress code than
anything else, even though students at the affiliated high school
were allowed to wear similar jackets. The dust-up could have been
much ado about nothing, but the fact that it hit the national wires
with a southern accent made it a genuine controversy.
It was but the latest in a long line of racially charged moments in
Louisiana brought about by a black man running for president. From
offensive t-shirts and banners displayed at LSU football games to
appalling jokes whispered at coffee shops to the way Obama’s
endorsements of white candidates were trumpeted on signs in tony
suburban neighborhoods, the way some Louisianans have reacted
to Obama’s candidacy and win has been less than honorable.
Yet Jindal, who is arguably less white than Obama, has barely
experienced any of the ethnic derision heaped upon Obama — and
if he has, it has remained a closely guarded secret. In fact, the
national media and observers from other states appeared more
surprised than those in Louisiana last year when an Indian-
American Republican was elected to a state so steeped in racial
divides. Could it be that Louisiana voters are willing to accept a
man of color, as long as he’s not black? Could it be that Louisiana
voters, many of whom were reared among Creoles and other proud
blends of race, don’t see color in the voting booth? The answer
won’t be found by asking a single question, or even two, and the
complete picture will only begin to emerge as Jindal’s political
career continues to unfold.
One immediate explanation is that Jindal has presented himself to
Louisiana voters as one of their own. Although born a Hindu named
Piyush, he changed his name to Bobby during childhood and
eventually embraced Catholicism. He campaigned in camouflage,
talked about duck hunting and once even “posed for a picture with
man sporting a Confederate flag tattoo,” according to a New York
Times story. Bob Mann, a veteran of Louisiana politics and author of
books about civil rights, says Jindal has taken care to craft such an
image. “Jindal has not only avoided race, but he has anglicized
himself. He has run, essentially, as a white, Anglo-Saxon male and
has identified himself with the culture of Louisiana,” says Mann. “I
think it’s wrong to say that Louisiana voted for an Indian-American
as governor because he didn’t really run as one. The biggest
difference between him and Obama is Obama has embraced his
heritage and Jindal has rewritten his.”
In certain respects, whether consciously or not, Jindal has lifted a
few pages from the playbook of the late Jefferson Parish Sheriff
Harry Lee, a portly, outspoken politician of Chinese heritage who
donned a cowboy hat, rode horses and embraced the ways of the
old courthouse gang. Lee recognized there was a necessary mold
and poured himself into it, leaning on his unique heritage only
when necessary, often in the form of self-deprecating humor. Jindal
hasn’t been as bold.
State Sen. Ben Nevers, a Democrat from Bogalusa, where remnants
of the Ku Klux Klan have recently sprouted, believes Jindal’s
campaign style has been one of the keys to his success in bridging
racial gaps. Just in the past two weeks, Jindal has held town hall
meetings in Robert, Woodworth, Vacherie, Jackson and Arcadia. His
entire first year in office has been filled with similar stops in other
rural areas, where he takes his message directly to citizens, mostly
working-class folks. “Jindal has the energy and talent to relate to
blue-collar workers and residents of rural areas,” says Nevers. “He
continues to be very visible and has a platform that all people can
identify with. I think being able to ask him questions in person has
helped Louisiana’s voters, and all of these town hall meetings are
paying dividends for him and the state.”
Jindal also inoculated himself against traditional racial issues early
on by developing firm relationships with the fundamentalist and
evangelical churches of north Louisiana. He had to sell himself as a
Christian, just as former Gov. Edwin Edwards did in the 1970s to
overcome stereotypes of his Cajun ancestry. It’s a solid formula
that only a skilled politician could pull off. It’s also a formula that’s
making national Republicans swoon. It doesn’t hurt that Jindal
would bring much-needed ethnicity to the GOP, although the
faithful are shy about saying that in public. “I think there is an
appeal to Bobby Jindal because he brings a fresh face to the party,”
says Brent Littlefield, a D.C.-based Republican strategist. “But I
think his popularity and the interest in him are truly based on
conservative policies and accomplishments, not his ethnicity. He is
an eloquent spokesperson for the party.”
That’s similar to what Democrats were saying about Obama less
than a year ago and may explain why Jindal is now being called the
“Republican Obama.” The comparison works on several levels, as
both men have important roles to play in the nation’s ever-evolving
debate over race and politics.
Last week, the day after the news broke about the Obama jackets in
Pineville, state Education Superintendent Paul Pastorek posted a
heartfelt message on his blog: “I encourage teachers, school
leaders, families and community leaders to facilitate healthy,
productive conversations about President-elect Obama and what
his election means for our country, especially for African-
Americans. If we, as adults, help young people talk about this event
in a constructive, non-threatening way without limiting or down-
playing their feelings, enthusiasm or anxiety, we can continue
building bridges that will connect them to a future where prejudice
in this country has not only diminished, but has disappeared.”
It seems Pastorek could have written a similar post about Jindal,
even though the governor has been less willing than Obama to
embrace his cultural uniqueness and expound upon his ethnicity in
the mainstream media. If the body politic in Louisiana — and
America — can both uphold and challenge racism, then Jindal has a
responsibility to make an impact, or at least try, with his own
personal story. It’s an unparalleled tale about a son of immigrants,
and we in Louisiana know it well by now. But it would be even more
powerful coming from Jindal, in detail, regardless of the political
ramifications it might carry.
For this reason alone, regardless of how he proceeds, Jindal has
already cemented his chapter in Louisiana’s history book — and
there’s little doubt he’s anxious to do the same on the national
stage. How he gets there is up to him.
While Louisiana has seen isolated moments of racial friction over
Barack Obama’s election, the tenure of Bobby Jindal has been
remarkably quiet.
By Jeremy Alford
Philadelphia’s Congress Hall is no stranger to historic moments of
awkwardness involving presidential power. George Washington, a
man seemingly born proud, was inaugurated there before his
second term in 1793. Four years later, it was the chosen place for
the inauguration of John Adams, a man seemingly born bitter. When
the ceremony ended, Adams waited for Washington to exit the
House chamber, possibly as a symbolic gesture of the Old Guard
giving way to the new. But neither Washington nor Adams budged.
Not surprisingly, the cold stare of the battle-hardened general won
out and Adams vacated the chamber first with head bowed.
A similar political tit-for-tat transpired in the northwest corner of
Independence Square last week, although it wasn’t as evident as
the classic Washington-Adams staredown. President-elect Barack
Obama, a Democrat, had invited every U.S. governor to Congress
Hall to discuss the nation’s precarious fiscal situation. Just below
the surface, the gathering also offered a preview of the potential
GOP challengers to Obama in 2012. Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, most
recently the Republicans’ choice for vice president, was there, as
was Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty and Florida Gov. Charlie Crist. It
was a bold move for the commander-in-chief-to-be to bring such
folks into the discussion.
But it was Obama’s handshake with Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal,
another GOP darling, that provided the picture-perfect moment.
The image of America’s first black president shaking hands with the
nation’s first elected Indian-American governor spoke volumes
about how far this nation has come. They are arguably among the
most powerful men of color to ever sit in Congress Hall in an official
capacity. Yet, despite their accomplishments, race and ethnicity still
play a divisive role in American politics. Nothing makes a politician,
reporter or voter stammer more than the topics of race and
ethnicity, as if choosing the correct words is the difference
between tolerance and intolerance, regardless of intent.
As Obama and Jindal discussed hurricane recovery and other
issues last week, the mother of two students from Pineville Junior
High School in central Louisiana was raising hell because the
school’s principal barred her children from wearing jackets
featuring a photo of the president-elect. The principal told
reporters it had more to do with the school’s dress code than
anything else, even though students at the affiliated high school
were allowed to wear similar jackets. The dust-up could have been
much ado about nothing, but the fact that it hit the national wires
with a southern accent made it a genuine controversy.
It was but the latest in a long line of racially charged moments in
Louisiana brought about by a black man running for president. From
offensive t-shirts and banners displayed at LSU football games to
appalling jokes whispered at coffee shops to the way Obama’s
endorsements of white candidates were trumpeted on signs in tony
suburban neighborhoods, the way some Louisianans have reacted
to Obama’s candidacy and win has been less than honorable.
Yet Jindal, who is arguably less white than Obama, has barely
experienced any of the ethnic derision heaped upon Obama — and
if he has, it has remained a closely guarded secret. In fact, the
national media and observers from other states appeared more
surprised than those in Louisiana last year when an Indian-
American Republican was elected to a state so steeped in racial
divides. Could it be that Louisiana voters are willing to accept a
man of color, as long as he’s not black? Could it be that Louisiana
voters, many of whom were reared among Creoles and other proud
blends of race, don’t see color in the voting booth? The answer
won’t be found by asking a single question, or even two, and the
complete picture will only begin to emerge as Jindal’s political
career continues to unfold.
One immediate explanation is that Jindal has presented himself to
Louisiana voters as one of their own. Although born a Hindu named
Piyush, he changed his name to Bobby during childhood and
eventually embraced Catholicism. He campaigned in camouflage,
talked about duck hunting and once even “posed for a picture with
man sporting a Confederate flag tattoo,” according to a New York
Times story. Bob Mann, a veteran of Louisiana politics and author of
books about civil rights, says Jindal has taken care to craft such an
image. “Jindal has not only avoided race, but he has anglicized
himself. He has run, essentially, as a white, Anglo-Saxon male and
has identified himself with the culture of Louisiana,” says Mann. “I
think it’s wrong to say that Louisiana voted for an Indian-American
as governor because he didn’t really run as one. The biggest
difference between him and Obama is Obama has embraced his
heritage and Jindal has rewritten his.”
In certain respects, whether consciously or not, Jindal has lifted a
few pages from the playbook of the late Jefferson Parish Sheriff
Harry Lee, a portly, outspoken politician of Chinese heritage who
donned a cowboy hat, rode horses and embraced the ways of the
old courthouse gang. Lee recognized there was a necessary mold
and poured himself into it, leaning on his unique heritage only
when necessary, often in the form of self-deprecating humor. Jindal
hasn’t been as bold.
State Sen. Ben Nevers, a Democrat from Bogalusa, where remnants
of the Ku Klux Klan have recently sprouted, believes Jindal’s
campaign style has been one of the keys to his success in bridging
racial gaps. Just in the past two weeks, Jindal has held town hall
meetings in Robert, Woodworth, Vacherie, Jackson and Arcadia. His
entire first year in office has been filled with similar stops in other
rural areas, where he takes his message directly to citizens, mostly
working-class folks. “Jindal has the energy and talent to relate to
blue-collar workers and residents of rural areas,” says Nevers. “He
continues to be very visible and has a platform that all people can
identify with. I think being able to ask him questions in person has
helped Louisiana’s voters, and all of these town hall meetings are
paying dividends for him and the state.”
Jindal also inoculated himself against traditional racial issues early
on by developing firm relationships with the fundamentalist and
evangelical churches of north Louisiana. He had to sell himself as a
Christian, just as former Gov. Edwin Edwards did in the 1970s to
overcome stereotypes of his Cajun ancestry. It’s a solid formula
that only a skilled politician could pull off. It’s also a formula that’s
making national Republicans swoon. It doesn’t hurt that Jindal
would bring much-needed ethnicity to the GOP, although the
faithful are shy about saying that in public. “I think there is an
appeal to Bobby Jindal because he brings a fresh face to the party,”
says Brent Littlefield, a D.C.-based Republican strategist. “But I
think his popularity and the interest in him are truly based on
conservative policies and accomplishments, not his ethnicity. He is
an eloquent spokesperson for the party.”
That’s similar to what Democrats were saying about Obama less
than a year ago and may explain why Jindal is now being called the
“Republican Obama.” The comparison works on several levels, as
both men have important roles to play in the nation’s ever-evolving
debate over race and politics.
Last week, the day after the news broke about the Obama jackets in
Pineville, state Education Superintendent Paul Pastorek posted a
heartfelt message on his blog: “I encourage teachers, school
leaders, families and community leaders to facilitate healthy,
productive conversations about President-elect Obama and what
his election means for our country, especially for African-
Americans. If we, as adults, help young people talk about this event
in a constructive, non-threatening way without limiting or down-
playing their feelings, enthusiasm or anxiety, we can continue
building bridges that will connect them to a future where prejudice
in this country has not only diminished, but has disappeared.”
It seems Pastorek could have written a similar post about Jindal,
even though the governor has been less willing than Obama to
embrace his cultural uniqueness and expound upon his ethnicity in
the mainstream media. If the body politic in Louisiana — and
America — can both uphold and challenge racism, then Jindal has a
responsibility to make an impact, or at least try, with his own
personal story. It’s an unparalleled tale about a son of immigrants,
and we in Louisiana know it well by now. But it would be even more
powerful coming from Jindal, in detail, regardless of the political
ramifications it might carry.
For this reason alone, regardless of how he proceeds, Jindal has
already cemented his chapter in Louisiana’s history book — and
there’s little doubt he’s anxious to do the same on the national
stage. How he gets there is up to him.
JEREMY ALFORD the latest and more...
