boats against the current
I was at a bar in Boulder when a black man became president-elect of the United States of America. Not just a black man, but a person of maturity, intelligence, and compassion. A person who comes to power honestly, by promise of his merit, who meets irrational onslaughts of fear and prejudice with clarity and grace. A public servant with some quality that looks startlingly like integrity. I fought back tears during his acceptance speech. I’m genuinely proud and grateful. Giddy. Tomorrow the world will be different. And also, I’m sure, quite the same.
Where were you?
November 8th, 2008 at 4:06 am
At home, in front of the computer, as my sister yelled from downstairs “He won!” Of course, I had peeled myself away from the television earlier after seeing that he had 207 electoral votes with California not even counted. I knew it was in the bag.
Oddly enough, the speech that drove me to tears was not of the victor, but of the one who lost. It was the first time since I’d started paying attention to the campaigns that I felt both respect and compassion for the man. As crazy or inept as he was, I got the feeling that he was genuinely trying to do what he thought was good for his country.
I then spent the rest of the night nervously monitoring the Prop 8 results as they slowly trickled in. By the end of the night, I wondered why I even bothered.