History is Made

I expected this post, on November 5, to be filled with my excitement at what America has in store. I expected to explain to you all how far America has come and how amazing last night was. I had every intent to write a post that would speak about us as a whole and yet today I am feeling something very different and something very personal. I woke up this morning and cried. Not hard, or long and not for any particular reason. As the day goes on, I continue to cry sporadically. And while I do believe part of me is crying because of what took place last night, a large part of me believes it is not the 24-year-old Emily crying, but a much younger version of myself crying over what she witnessed last night.

I believe it is the little girl in me who felt a part of everyone, but didn’t think anyone felt she was a part of them. I think it is that girl who grew up in a town that is 98% white and wanted nothing more than to have straight hair like all the other girls. I think it is that little girl who tried to ignore when people would question why she looked different from her parents. I think it is that little girl who said she was sure her mother would go to Heaven because she had hair like the angels. I think it is that little girl who felt that she could only be herself and hope that people liked her because she had nothing to hide behind. It is that little girl that had to choose between black and white on surveys and carried the weight of that choice on her shoulders long after the surveys were done and handed in. It is that little girl who looked to her brother to see what she could be because she didn’t know anyone else like her and wasn’t sure what she was capable of doing. I think it is that girl who is crying.

To know that the President knows what it is like to feel so a part of people and look so different. To know that when the President looks at pictures of himself with his maternal grandparents, he sees how loved he was and doesn’t see a black boy with white grandparents. I cannot tell you what that is like. To know that my President knows that in a country like America, how blessed he is to have his family say that even though it’s not right to a lot of people – especially back in the day – that they accept him and love him because they really see him. To know that he is not ashamed of any part of him and embraces all of himself. To know that he has been loved by his family and accepted by black and white communities gives me so much hope that Barack Obama really sees people. I am not implying that other Presidents see skin color or ethnicity or anything else discriminatory but I do believe Barack Obama has a certain understanding that cannot be learned in school.

I voted for him for the right reasons. I believe he and Joe Biden can do the best job leading the country right now. I believe they will surround themselves with the best and brightest. I did not give Barack Obama my vote because he is mulatto. I am excited to see what he does as a President based on his stances. But I guess, though I wasn’t aware until today, that this election means a lot more to me than the direction of America in relation to the world. I feel like America has seen me and has said that I’m okay. I really feel a part of America. My family has never given me reason to believe that I can’t achieve anything I want, but I think that today I truly believe it. I mean, there’s a biracial President headed to the White House and he didn’t have to pick or deny any part of himself to get there.

Like I said, it’s not as though I’ve been wandering the planet looking for acceptance from the public. I haven’t spent my life boohooing who I am. Believe me, it’s quite the opposite. My life has been full and happy. But it is a strange and wonderful feeling to see myself, my story, my background in this man. It’s only on a very basic level that we have anything in common, and really only on the surface but that simple connection, where for so long there has been little to none, resonates so much deeper than I never expected.

Advertisement