“I always felt like an American.  I finally felt like I can put my suitcase down.”

– Whoopi Goldberg

 

I’ve been trying to put into words the feelings of elation, relief, and hope and, yes, even sadness at 8:03 p.m. on November 4th, 2008 when Barack Obama was declared the President Elect of the United States of America. 

 

In the two days since the clouds parted, golden rays of sun shone through and school children raised their voices in song, I cannot tell you how many men I have heard say “I almost cried.”

 

 Almost cried?  Almost?  Almost?! For the record, I wept like a baby.  Those feelings of elation, relief, hope and sadness?  All streaming down my face. 

 

I have supported Barack Obama’s candidacy from the beginning, much to the chagrin of my 83-year-old Hillary supporter mom (don’t worry she got over it and voted true to her Democratic roots).  His audacity of hope made me audacious enough to hope.  His unflappable, confident being with an ounce of humility made me believe he could go the distance.  His heritage and race made me excited at the possibility of a new perspective and making history. 

 

But his race did not define his campaign.  Barack rarely talked about his race .  He only talked about race when it was evident Rev. Wright was not going away.  So he talked abut race.  Correction:  He eloquently talked about race.  He summed up past, present and future fears, obstacles, and wounds created by race in America in 500 words or less, and received an A+.  My McCain worshipping brother-in-law identifies Obama’s speech on race the pivotal turning point in his political allegiance.  And then Barack woke up the next day and went back to campaigning as a multi-cultural man who had a lot of hope. 

 

So when Barack Obama was declared President Elect minutes after the California polls closed, just to make us Californians feel sort of significant, I was broadsided by the Black journalists and commentators – Democrat and Republican alike – welling up.  Weeping.  Talking about how their mothers and fathers never thought they would see the day.  Talking about how THEY never thought they would see the day.  Talking about Lincoln and the emancipation proclamation, Rosa Parks and the bus, MLK and his dreams.  Talking about the similar feelings they had when we elected an Irish Catholic in 1962.  Talking about the voters rights act of 1965.  Talking about the message of possibility THIS momentous occasion in history sends to their children. Sends to all children.  Black men can be anything.  They can be President of the United States, one of the most powerful countries in the world.  Take that racism!

 

And that’s when I began to weep.  Weep in that ugly, I can’t talk, I’m beside myself way.  My tears of elation were for healthcare, the economy, and organized communities of hope across the country.  But my tears of sadness were for the years of oppression, racism, and division our country has endured.  Tears of apology, and yes, guilt, no matter how useless, for the tears I saw pour from black peoples faces across America and throughout the world. 

 

For a half hour this win seemed to be only about race.  A win for equality, for unity, for the audacity of hope.  Senator McCain’s acceptance speech underscored this so beautifully by taking in the historic moment with us.  The moment was not lost on Senator McCain, even in his darkest hour.

 

Then Barack Obama took the stage as the President Elect and gave a proud, yet somber acceptance speech.  He looked to the long road ahead.  He paid thanks to his campaign staff and family.  He talked about hope again.  Maybe he meant hope for black people, but more likely hope for all, for this is Barack Obama, the transformational leader, the community organizer.  We were reminded once again that this was not about race to Barack Obama, though that may be the icing on the cake for the rest of us.  Once again it’s about the audacity of hope.  Now let’s get down to business.