Whatever this nation’s reality on November 5th, you have changed something for me. It’s a symbolic change, a socio-psycho-political change that did not begin with your landmark bid for America’s highest office, but that has been better fulfilled by it.
I was put off by you at first—not by you, personally, but like so many, by your youth and your oft-cited lack of experience. That I have pulled the lever or tapped the screen for as many republicans as I have for democrats also meant that my support of your endeavor wasn’t a given.
I am a black woman who has survived, largely, in spite of black men. I have had to define myself outside of the societal parameters that have been imposed on them and that they have imposed on themselves. No one has ever had any real hope for them, it seems. Least of all, me. When I’ve sought validation of my personal worth, I sought in academia, in Faith, in a strong group of women friends, and in myself, but some obscured part of me wasn’t buying it—couldn’t be fully persuaded until I made peace with my loathed counterpart.
Maybe, like me, you have had to deal with people outside of your family who have been surprised or threatened by your intellect, and didn’t want to allow you to think your success was eminent. Or, maybe you weren’t aware of that at all, because it never occurred to you that there was anything about your or your life that was prohibitive. Maybe that is what made you audacious enough to hope.
You represent a real chance, not just for this country in its entirety, to embrace that wonderful, inspiring audacity, but for me, specifically, Mr. Obama, to have my political and personal paradigms shifted.
The way you love the women in your life simultaneously breaks my heart and emboldens my expectations for what I can have. That you were raised and nurtured by white women—that these were the first women you loved back, but that this did not preclude you from loving and choosing a woman who looked nothing like them has healed me. That you picked someone to stand beside you who looks like so many women I grew up knowing and loving has made me believe for the first time that
anything has something to do with
me.
I have tried and failed numerous times to explain with any modicum of incisive eloquence why I am voting for you without reducing myself to a statistic—just one of the millions of black Americans who are making the same choice (some would presumptuously and wrongly say “thoughtlessly" making the choice). Here is my attempt: You have engaged me in this country’s political dialogue—something I’ve never actually been. Your ideas have forced me to examine and reexamine my own. You have helped me to determine a truth I suspected all along—that I’m neither a conservative nor a liberal, but a moderate. Our views on all the issues are not simpatico, but I’m looking at the bigger picture of who you are. Our views on this much line up: I am concerned about our fatally flawed economy and I am troubled by this war. The cornerstones of your platform at this cross-roads of history and current events have intersected with my deepest worries. I think your policies deserve to be tried and to fail or succeed on their own strength, but they must be given due diligence as much as has been extended to any other presidential hopeful who made the transition to the Oval Office—as I hope you will.
It has everything to do with the fact that you are black. How could it not? Of course this campaign is about race. How could it not be? It cannot
only be about this, but the context of our country’s history is inextricably linked to all of the seemingly race-neutral topical points. Why wouldn’t we want to acknowledge that? If your counterpart, Hillary Clinton, had won the democratic nomination, the race would have to be, in part, about her being a woman. And women everywhere would have the inalienable right to count her victory as theirs to share. It is obvious that our nation was finally ready to consider one of these possibilities, or neither of you would have had a real chance. It’s dishonouring to
everyone when pundits are either surprised that race is an issue or when they assert that it shouldn’t be. Why shouldn’t it be given a place of honour in our dialogue?
You would not have my vote if I didn’t think you could do it; however much your being a contender might mean to me, personally, I would not be reckless. But I’ve factored everything in, and I actually believe in your candidacy. That makes this election emotional for me.
It’s been hard for me when I’ve encountered those who have indicated that they are voting for you, but who imply that they are doing so grudgingly. I have had to make myself remember that your candidacy doesn’t have to mean to them what it means to me. They don’t have my experiences, haven’t inherited the same broken concepts I have; they don’t have my particular wounds, and you haven’t inspired them as you have me and so many others. For some people, it’s just politics. Had you not won the nomination, I’d be feeling pretty lukewarm about our prospects for governance, so I understand their position, intellectually, though it is counter-intuitive for me.
Whether you win or not, Mr. Obama, you have done more for black women who feel emotionally disenfranchised—for me—than perhaps you intended or will ever fully comprehend. It is not an articulated errand of your campaign to give us as a group a sense of worth, but that is what has happened. You’ve done this on the strength and authenticity of your emblematic life. You have brought dignity and presidential bearing to America’s image of black masculinity and have given me a reason to know that I’m not invisible—that someone like me can be adored from a pure place—that I am not dispensable—that my vote can mean something for the first time in my adult life.
You have not pushed yourself forward as a president only for Black America, only for the disenfranchised minority groups, or for the liberal contingent alone—but as The Person for the Job—who is the metaphorical trope for marrying seemingly opposing factions and producing one whole, integrated, cohesive sense of integrity.
Thank you for believing you had every right to put yourself forward as a worthy statesman—even when I doubted that you were.
