What do Americans themselves have to say about Barack Obama's presidential victory?
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For the first time in my life I felt like an American
This morning I went to the polls in my hometown of Fairfield, Alabama, primarily an all-Black town. When I arrived at 6:15 a.m., there was already a line. Old people, young people, teenagers, people on canes, people in wheel-chairs, workers, the entire lot. As I stood there I initially didn't recognize anyone, and that's strange because this is my home town. I wondered if I had been away from home for too long. If I had lost my place in my original community. As the time passed by the faces of people came into sharper focus, and one by one they became familar. Some were now fatter, many had lines in their faces, other looked exactly the same, though I hadn't seen some of them for decades. I saw 'Horace Collier', my classmate from kindergarten. I saw another old friend who stared at me, trying to figure out who I was, and I saw her form her lips as she whispered my name, silently, still not quite sure if it was me or not. I saw a very old man that I knew that I knew, but I couldn't quite place him. Then his wife walked up and instantly I knew who he was, 'Mr Stonewall', the community electrician whose son, 'Clint', had been my best friend in high school, and whose mother had been like my second mother when I was growing up. Still the quiet and dignified and gentle couple that I had always known. And I caught a glimpse of "James", who had been the first Black bus driver in the City of Birmingham.
At first I decided to start greeting people, but later I just decided to remain simply as one of the many figures in the portrait. Not to step out from the crowd but to just be a part of it, to be an observer and not do anything to tamper with this piece of art, because clearly God was painting this picture this morning and did not need my help. When people tried to make eye contact with me, I looked away. I wanted to just be an observer of this historic moment in time. After I got inside the polling place a 95 year old woman came up to me, hugged and kissed me on my lips and said: "Groesbeck", I'm glad to see that you came back home from Africa to vote for Obama. Her son, 'Leroy', now deceased, was one of my playmates, as a young child. There were so many memories, so many emotions. As I stood there, listening to the laughter and soaking up the new sense of pride that was in the air, I realized that I was standing outside, in the open, in a long line of Black people, in Alabama, waiting to cast a vote for the first Black President of the United States, when in the past people had been lynched and gunned down for even thinking about the idea of voting. As I marked my ballot, in private, I started shedding tears.
So many, many memories of the past. I felt a sense of freedom. A sense of relief. A sense of victory. A feeling that it had all been worth it; all of it. The one single emotion that lingered as I left the building was a deep sense of gratitude for this thing that we call the 'vote.' How sacred it is. It reminded me of the Black church. A place where one can go, and participate as an equal, and not have to be anything special. Just show up and say I want to be a part of this. That's the only qualification. For the first time in my life I felt like an American, instead of a minority. I felt like this country is mine too. I felt included. I felt complete. I felt good. It was a great day.
- Groesbeck
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While out with friends tonight I ran into a former co-worker whom I hadn't seen in years. We fell to talking about the election results pouring in, as one does on Election Day, and he said something that surprised me. "I don't understand the expectation," he said. "If Obama wins the sun won't shine more brightly tomorrow. The birds won't sing more sweetly." He laughed.
He's a logical fellow, my friend. Handsome. A man of facts. A Pynchon fan. He's objectively right, of course.
But he's absolutely wrong, too. And I've put my finger on why his statement bothered me so much:
He's denied the subjective narrative that guides every human.
When I wake up tomorrow America will have chosen its first President of color and the first sign of redemption in eight horrible, unredeemable years that challenged my patriotism and the world's respect. And yes, the sun in my sky will shine brighter. Every bird I hear will be singing more sweetly. I've welcomed certain narratives into my life, and those stories of hope and joy are going to make everything subjectively better for a long while. I'm grateful I have the capacity for subjectivity because goddamn, my friends, I can't wait to wake up in tomorrow's new world.
Thanks for not fucking this one up, America. I thought we'd lost you. Welcome back.
- Madolan Greene
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The America which Obama described in his speech - that is the America that my parents told me about when I was young, after they came here. That was and is my home.
- Joe Szilagyi
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I woke up after 3 hours sleep to the sound of one acid reflux clapping from a delicious election night dinner at friends but I'm still high as an acid-driven kite! When just after 11 pm the MSNBC or CNN declared Obama the next president, I felt a thrill I haven't had from politics in a long time. Forget the caveats for now - he is every bit the president we could only hope for in these dark political days. Seeing the effect on my kids almost threw me back to 1960 or '64. Okay, I don't need reminders of how that turned out but what the hell, we can't throw in the towel now - which is I think what his election means. I can't think of any way anyone could have communicated better that we're all in this together. Imagine a politics of solutions instead of warding off fascism. Hey, I can out-fatalize anybody (except maybe Frank), but today, it's all about smelling the roses.
The only damper (ha - there had to be one) is the Senate where Al Franken is 3600 votes behind in Minnesota, Nick Begich, who I once interviewed for my column, just fell short of unseating the convicted felon Stevens in Alaska, and in Oregon somehow the Republican Smith holds a 9000 vote lead over Merkley, but with only 73% of the votes in. I really wanted Franken to win but I guess not. Cindy Sheehan got about 18% of the vote as a 3rd party candidate against Pelosi. But I don't think the filibuster-buster number of 60 Dems will be so crucial, as there are a couple of reasonable Republicans from Maine and a lot of public pressure not to be obstructive - Obama's lead is up to 6%. And for us to have a black President - WOW! Never thought I'd see it in my lifetime - or America's. The rest of the world is ecstatic - electrically charged as when JFK was elected. WOW!
Electorally, it looks like Obama will get Indiana and North Carolina, which will give him 364 electoral votes, assuming McCain holds his lead in Missouri.
Whoops, this just in, Franken just pulled to within 1600 votes in Minnesota! With 99% reporting.
Franken now just under 700 votes behind. Based on the precincts still to report, I'd say he has a chance of edging ahead.
WOW!! I feel like playing a Woody Guthrie album!
- Barton
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Obama just walked off the stage, Bruce Springsteen is playing and Oprah Winfrey is crying. I am wiping tears from my own face. My best friends keep calling on the telephone and hearing their voices has never sounded so good. My parents call, I look at the sky and I talk to my dad grandparents and I think about January, what my life will be like just six days after my 24th birthday, less than a week after the birthday of Dr.King.
The first time I voted I was 18 years old and going to college in Ohio, the second time I was 19 and living again in Florida. I cast my vote for Kerry and starry eyed I felt defeated. I collapsed on the floor of the Public Library where I was working, a boy I loved had called me had asked if I was sitting down. When I cried on the ground I could see the Gulf of Mexico, it was November and 80 degrees, the sun was shining and I didn't understand how anything could be okay.
Even though I have lived in New York for the last two years, I did not get residency. I wanted to vote for Florida, and I did in the primary (which did not count) and I did two weeks ago with a ball point pen in my head. I wanted that ballot to represent every soul that ever touched me, my parents moving to this country so that someday they could have a child and their child could have it better than they did. My dead grandparents and great grandparents who never voted because their hands were too bloody, their stomachs to starved.
When anyone talked about this being a landslide victory over the last week, I didn't want to hear. It's not that the faith or the hope wasnt there, but I just wanted to know when I knew. So I kept calling the swing states, making the phones calls to everyone I knew in Florida and Ohio, taking buses to Pennsylvania and meeting people around all this country.
Friday afternoon Oprah looked at her audience as I sat on my couch and she said "Everything is going to be fine America" and I wanted to believe her. But even today my fingers were shaking, my nerves were acting up.
And when I saw on the screen who the president was, I just wept. Everyone was standing and screaming around me, but I just cried. They were happy tears of course, but I could not hold them back, I had no yell in my voice I just felt so much love in my body, so much love in New York and so much love in the other two states that raised me.
I would do it all again a thousand times. I'd have the arguments, I'd spend the hours on the phone, I'd go to your state or mind. I would do it one hundred times.
And I feel like today is a new day for you and me, for The United States, for the world. I want us all to feel the way that we have felt this past years. I want us to keep our hands in it-- to remember that this is ours, that we CAN make a difference that our votes CAN count. From the time I was fifteen years old and I saw my state paralyzed by a recount, I learned to be discontent, I learned to not trust my leaders, I became sarcastic, I rolled my eyes. By 19 I changed my tune while everyone chanted "four more years" around me, on November 3rd my body produced more water than the entire Gulf of Mexico which I saw through the glass windows. in 2006 I turned 21, I took my shots legally for the first time, I decided to get out of Florida, I moved to New York and somewhere in this whole process, I thought we could get it all back.
Now I am 23, alone in Brooklyn and I have never felt so surrounded. I know that we havnet gotten it all back, but we can get what we want. We need to stay involved as much as the people who founded our country did. We need to choose our leaders and help choose our policies, I want to remember everyone that died so I could sit here today and have the luxury of typing this out. I want to remember everyone that died so that men, immigrants, women and all skin colors would have the right to vote. I want us all to remember how we got here, and I don't want to take any of it for granted anymore.
We have the books on our shelves, our appliances on digital, the pen and paper is there somewhere and we spoke out, we spoke out hard and strong and I have never seen such happiness.
I don't want us to ever forget what life has felt like, or what tonight feels like or that tomorrow is up to us, tomorrow we can decide to feel however we want.
And we will tell this to our children, we will tell this to our grandchildren. We will always have this to tell. This is all us.
- Daniela
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I spent tonight with my mother in a Russian restaurant, drinking pepper vodka and hoping. Trying to not think, trying to shake the jitters that woke me at 5am today and sent so many of us flying to the polls well before they opened. When the television showed us your power, it was almost instant - the tidal wave of joy. Just as I was saying I was afraid to believe it, the screaming started. Outside, on Santa Monica boulevard, right in the heart of boystown, people were cheering and car horns were going off in the most beautiful cacophony I've ever heard. Mom and I stepped outside to absorb it all, along with the cold night air. She turned to me in all that wind and noise to say: "Do you believe it now?". I almost began to cry.
What comes next is uncertain. Whether Obama will come through, whether we will finally begin to heal - none of it is clear in this moment. All we do know is our fate has been changed profoundly. This was our chance to prove we have evolved and we didn't blow it. So thank you - to everyone who cast aside their cynicism, to everyone who made their voice heard along with ours. History was made tonight and we can only hope our faith will be justified. Celebrate, people. You've earned that right today.
- by Zoetica Ebb