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Beth and I dated for almost four years, and during this time I learned a lot of things. There were the things I learned from her, of course – but there were also the things I learned about other people from how they treated us as a same-sex couple. I learned about the way strangers can threaten you without saying anything. I learned about the way business owners and waitresses can let you know you don’t belong. I learned about the importance of being deliberately, overtly welcoming to people who have come to expect cold receptions. And I learned what it’s like to realize you’ll never be President.Not that I was going to be president. It’s a very American idea, though – that anyone could be. I remember being taught that in first grade, and I remember writing an essay about how I would be the first woman president. Why the first? my teacher wrote in the margins. It took me a long time to figure out what she meant.
That was the last time I wanted to be President. Politics is neither my interest nor my strength. But one day when I was living in Eugene with Beth I suddenly realized that being president was actually not an option. Not because I don’t want to be, but because of who I am. Americans would never elect a woman president who had been in a relationship with a woman, no matter what, no exceptions. I thought, for the first time, that lots of people can’t actually be president. It’s telling it took me thirty years to realize this. I bet lots of first graders already know enough about the world to not buy that line in the first place.
In first grade I looked at the poster of forty white Christian guys (one Catholic) and I thought, a woman could be up there. Two decades later I know that a gay person couldn’t. A Muslim couldn’t. An atheist couldn’t. And when I was thinking about this list, just seven years ago, I also added: a black person couldn’t. Because what black first grader looking at that poster would ever believe that anyone could be president? What thirty-year-old looking at America could ever think America would vote for a black president, no matter how qualified he or she was?
So even as the economy has come crashing down and my country has been making one tragic decision after another overseas, even as this campaign brought out some of the most hateful, ignorant commentary from our collective closet, I have decided that today I will feel nothing but inspired about America, no matter what happens. Because millions of Americans, friends in New York City and relatives in Kentucky, have decided that they want a man named Barack Hussein Obama to be president. Can you imagine all of the personal struggle that was required for this to happen? Can you imagine all of the demons that had to be faced and conquered? Seriously, look at that fucking name! We are a flawed country, an ugly country sometimes. But we are also a brave country, a country of faith, and better than our fears.
3 Comments:
You're my honorary president today.
Fun
Y'know, I love that, when I really feel like well thought out writing, on any subject you care to tackle, you always come through with something great. Thanks.
I realized today that this is the first president of my generation - and I love that he looks like me.
He shares my hopes, my dreams, my concerns; he is my president in a way I have never experienced before: he looks like me on the inside.
That's what matters love. And someday someday more presidents will look like more of us on the outside.
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