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November 2008 The Change Journal. Yes, we did. 11/4/08 Peace and love. And so it is. The day. This day. History. It’s an incredibly warm and sunny day and Barack Obama’s name is on the ballot for President. Even I can’t believe it. 11/5/08 President-Elect Barack Obama. Wow. President Obama. First Lady Michelle Obama. Oh my gosh. We have been called so many things in this country: property, n---er, boy, mammy-- the list is ugly and long and needs no repeating here. We have been so many things here: strange fruit, survivors, freedom fighters, dreamers, victims, victors. We have asserted ourselves and turned our identities over and over and formed ourselves like so many pieces of clay. But we have never been this, we have never been called this, we have never seen this. First Lady. President. The people have won despite the middle of the country. Despite the old white people who couldn’t bring themselves to vote for the more intelligent, compassionate, humane candidate. Despite the black President-elect, racism is alive and well (or sick). And if you don’t believe me, look at the jump in hate crimes since November 4.th But this also shows that most of us are dreaming of a different future. A better future. The old guard is out of power and they are gasping for air. Their way of life, their view of life is unsustainable. Largely because it doesn’t take anyone into account. Their way of life doesn’t even take the air we breathe or the water we drink into consideration. This new reality is hard on their eyes, not just their minds. They have to revise their ideas about people of color. This is not an athlete, this is not a musician, this is not the delivery man. This is not some brown guy who can be ignored. This is not a black man cast into some familiar, comfortable role. Barack Obama will be President and he looks like someone many people have been conditioned to hate, fear, dismiss, or tell what to do. Mr. President. Sir. This is a definite paradigm shift. And a black woman as First Lady. What is our history in these United States of America? We black women. So many of us dragged here in chains, our legacy is one of the lash and rape and our children being stolen from us. First Lady. It takes my breath away. Lady. Yes, lady. Overturning the idea that the only thing we can aspire to do is pole dance in hip-hop videos. It’s really a miracle. A healing. It’s a blessed day. And our families. What about the notion that our families are weak at best but more often non-existent? This first family is gorgeous. They are educated, intelligent, loving, building. They don’t come from wealth. They come from work and dreams, and resistance and love. This victory is not just about politics. It’s not just about how people of color are viewed by others. This victory is an undeniably loud wake up call. It is time for all of us to look in the mirror. It is time to re-envsion ourselves. We can be much greater than we have been. We can move beyond division and hopelessness. Let us revise ourselves. Let’s take the clay back and move our fingers over it again. Let’s re create ourselves. Our highest selves are calling. Let the world see us again. But more importantly, let us see ourselves again. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjYXrRHxg7I 11/12/08 This has been a very beautiful, inspiring time. I feel myself re examining where I am and where we are as a family. I feel like I somehow need to be a part of doing the work that so desperately needs to be done in this country. President-elect Obama can not do it all by himself. I know that being a conscious parent is a big part of the work that needs to be done on this planet, so I don’t invalidate what I do and have been doing since Serene was born; however, I feel that there is something else I can contribute. I feel like owe this incoming administration something. Barack and Michelle Obama have given me something I never thought I’d have: a feeling of connectedness with the country where I was born. I never in my wildest, most bizarre dreams thought that I’d embrace this country. I had no clue that I could or that any part of me wanted to. Imagine, being chased out of your own country. My ancestors are buried here, they built this place, they knew the lay of the land and welcomed the pilgrims. This has been our country for a long time but until now, it didn’t feel like it. Imagine being chased out of your own country. The place you live, pay taxes, pledged allegiance to as a kid. Imagine waiting thirty years to feel that allegiance. It’s weird. There’s also something spiritual--a belief in deeper, more wide reaching possibility. I been thought I could do, but on that level? It really is as though there was a glass ceiling within, one that I was completely unaware of, and it has crashed. I feel blessed to be alive. I feel like I need to make the most of my gifts. And I feel like I can. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Evu2JMLwNak * * * On the way home from my herbal apprenticeship. A man is holding a New York Times that read “Iraq War Ends,” in big bold letters. What?! I look around. No. It can’t be. Nobody looks like the war has ended. No other newspaper has that headline. But the energy of the headline and the accompanying photograph with two helicopters flying away from a splendid sunrise look so real. I squint to get a better look. Has Bush come to his senses? Is this a special edition of the paper? It can’t be. Nothing in the vibe of this subway says that peace has been declared. Now, my eyesight is barely a whisper so when I see the date of the paper is July 4, 2009 I literally turn away from the paper and start scratching my head. I am on the train right? I am not asleep right? Okay, I am going insane. No. I am on the train and I feel too alive to be asleep and too grounded to be going mad. I quickly realize that I will go mad, however, if I don’t ask the man about his newspaper. There is a woman between us. She is sleeping. If the man is with her will she get pissed that I speak to him? I get a glimpse of the his shoulder bag and it seems to say, “U of Dreams.” Alright. There is clearly something going on and I need to grab this moment and insert myself into this man’s reality no matter what the consequences. Maybe the woman is a jealous maniac, maybe I misread the newspaper, maybe I am dreaming, or maybe the war actually is over. There are two more stops before I get off the train. The train slows down as it pulls into a station. The woman gets up. I go for it. Catch the man’s eye. “What is that you’re reading?” “You can have it,” he says gently handing me the newspaper. “Thanks.” He smiles and gets off the train. I am left to read and dream and get the message. Act. Just take one step tonight. Take another tomorrow. And another step the day after that. Get in. Dream and follow the path that dreaming creates. http://www.nytimes-se.com/ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuCj__LgyIg http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjXyqcx-mYY One love, Ekere |
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