The political history of discussing race in America has been tumultuous. Although government-led public discussions have been indispensable in achieving school integration and voting rights and in reducing racial inequality, they have often been met with scorn and backlash. We have to look no further than the office of the president to see this constant pushback over time. Eisenhower faced ridicule from southern governors following only one major speech to integrate schools; Johnson's political capital began to fade after he championed civil rights for racial minorities; and even before Obama assumed office, individuals speculated on the pushback he would receive in terms of race. Matt Bai (2008), writing for the New York Times, offered a disturbing future by suggesting that “President Obama, closely watched for signs of racial resentment, would have less maneuvering room to champion spending on the urban poor, say, or to challenge racial injustice. What's more, his very presence in the Rose Garden might undermine the already tenuous case for affirmative action in hiring and school admissions.” As a consequence of this pushback, politicians face an implicit but palpable fear when they contemplate discussing race. Though they intend to address racial inequality, citizens can misconstrue their actions as a zero-sum game in which improving the status of marginalized groups means a declining situation for the majority in this nation. And when this fear takes hold, public support for politicians can suffer. This is the potential backlash of addressing race.

In this chapter, I attempt to delve deeper into the backlash that the American public has toward presidents who engage in a dialogue on race. To offer greater perspective, I begin by examining in broad terms how the public reacts to race-conscious statements by the president. I then recount the first time President Obama definitively addressed a contentious racial issue while in the White House – in response to the well-known 2009 incident involving Harvard professor Henry Gates and Cambridge Police Sergeant James Crowley.