A Love Story

In some ways, I am solidly of my demographic. I am black, I am a woman, I lean towards what some might call yuppiefied over-intellectualism and yes, I am absolutely, head-over-heels in love with one Senator Barack Obama.

I first noticed him in 2004 at the Democratic National Congress, my cynicism no match for his anti-war position and the graceful purple glow emanating from his hopeful message. "There's something about that skinny somebody with big ears and a funny name," I said to myself, "I'll have to keep my eye on him." And so I did. Over the next few years I stole glances in his direction, demurely checking him out but not getting too excited lest he prove, as had so many others before him, to be less than the man I thought him to be.

And so I flirted, I batted my eyes looking for something worth committing to, hoped that that bright spark of potential from 2004 would become a full-fledged beacon on the senate floor. I waited, I watched from across the room but I couldn't find anything strong enough to hold on to. He still basked attractively in a purple-tinged glow but he was shrouded in Washington's shadows, a junior senator's hope no match for the political spiderwebs woven all throughout the American congress. It wasn't long before I remembered my distaste for Washington and, I'm sad to say, forgot about him.

Then, in late 2006, the whispers started.

"Obama for president," they began tentatively.

"Too young," was the quick reply.

"Kennedy!" offered some.

"Lincoln!" said others.

And then, "Hussein???"

Doubt.

"Is America ready?" we worried.

"Perfect for his time" came the reply

And then, most loudly,

"What about the Clintons?'

I must admit, I wondered too. I liked Bill and Hilary. In fact, before Barack entered the race I was ready to throw my support behind Hilary and looked forward to seeing a force of intelligence replace the sticky mess left behind from the last four years.

But then came the speeches. and the tears. and the emotion I had never felt for America and for what a politician could mean for this country. Soon I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Barack Obama was the man for me. The flirting was over-- this was the real deal. Admittedly, all this came during the time when I was living in China and feeling real, dehumanizing racism for the first time in my life so the overly-emotional response and belief in an individual's ability to bring about real human change was probably exceptional. But, believe it I did; I found myself fantasizing about the impact Barack's brown face in the White House would have on brown children's aspirations, on people around the world's faith in America. I longed for the blow against stereotypes the world over that his presidency would level.

As the election wore on, some of my optimism diminished, and while I never stopped believing he is the best man for the job, I was forced at some points to remove my rose-colored glasses and realize the man is human and sometimes plays the political game more deftly than I would like.

Then there was yesterday's speech and my love for Obama was rekindled to become something better and brighter than it had been before. For the first time in my life I felt myself listening to a politician for insight into this country's heart. I heard a politician speak with integrity, humility, and deep deep pathos about a wound that, for the past 30 years has been covered in band-aids. Obama offered the first steps to a real cure: dialogue. When I found out he wrote the speech himself, I felt my stomach lurch in a way that could only mean one thing: Barack Obama is The One.

READ THE SPEECH. or watch it. Everyone should-- it's about time we talk in a public way about the persistent divisions between races. and be sure to look out for his description of the black church-- it's perfect.

Just keep your hands off my man ;)