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Elizabeth Warren, who also goes by her Indian name, “Lies on Race Box,” is in big heap-um trouble. The earnest, reform-minded liberal running for Senate against Scott Brown, R-Mass., lied about being part-Cherokee to get a job at Harvard.
Harvard took full advantage of Warren’s lie, bragging to The Harvard Crimson about her minority status during one of the near-constant student protests over insufficient “diversity” in the faculty. Warren also listed herself as an Indian in law school faculty directories and, just last month, said, “I am very proud of my Native American heritage.”
Except, oops, she has no more evidence that she’s an Indian than that buffoon out of Colorado, Ward Churchill.
The Boston Globe immediately leapt to Warren’s defense, quoting a genealogist who found a marriage license on which Warren’s great-great-uncle scribbled that his mother, Warren’s great-great-great grandmother, was a Cherokee. This is not part of the official marriage license. (If I scribble “Kenyan” on Obama’s birth certificate, does that make it true?)
But let’s say it’s true. That would make Warren a dotriacontaroon — 1/32nd Cherokee. That’s her claim to affirmative action bonus points? You don’t know what it’s like to be 1/32nd Cherokee, to never have anyone to talk to, spending so many evenings home alone, wondering if there was some other 1/32nd Cherokee out there, perhaps looking at the same star I was.
Soon, however, the preponderance of the evidence suggested she wasn’t even 1/32nd Cherokee. The census records for 1860 list the allegedly Cherokee great-great-great-grandmother, O.C. Sarah Smith Crawford, as “white.” Also, Warren’s family isn’t listed in the Cherokee registry. (Unlike Democrat voter rolls, to be on the Cherokee list, proof is required.)
On the other hand, we have what her son scribbled on his marriage license — something, by the way, that none of his siblings claimed about their mother.
So now we’re down to Warren’s reminiscence that her great-aunt used to point to a portrait of her great-great-grandfather and call him an Indian, noting his high cheekbones.
Family lore is not proof. Proof is contemporary documentation, produced under penalty of perjury, such as a census record. My mother told me she found me under a rock, but I don’t put that on job applications.
The universities that employed Warren rushed to claim that her fake Indian ancestry had nothing to do with it. They speak with forked tongue, causing heap-um laughter. (Harvard was so desperate for diversity, it made a half-black dilettante president of the Harvard Law Review!)
To grasp what a sin against political correctness this is, consider the Jesuitical debates about blackness regularly engaged in at our universities. About the time Lies on Race Box was getting a job with Harvard as a fake Indian — valued for her fake hunting and tracking skills — a debate broke out at Northwestern University law school about whether a potential faculty hire was black enough.
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