The Election of 2008, which we have all participated in, which embodies our future, which has, at last, given us hope at the end of a long, dark
Lucky for me, then, that I got to stand, packed shoulder to shoulder with my fellow students, watching the results come in, until the final tumultuous cry of joy went up and the champagne corks blew and the arms flew round the shoulders.
Yet it wasn't until the crowd celebrating Obama's victory, both in Chicago and Vollum Lecture Hall on Reed College Campus in Portland, Oregon, began the now-infamous chant of "Yes We Can" that I felt tears in my eyes. I broke down. I wept like a baby -- crying, laughing, not being able to tell which was which.
There, at last, after so many years of cynicism and outrage and the inability to be proud of my country and my heritage, I felt as if I belonged. No more the dismissive wave of the hand and the closing remark: "I don't talk about politics. They disgust me." Or the need to leave the room -- or worse, the country -- when the President came on television to discuss the state of the nation. Here was the America I had wished I could come home to from my travels. The America I dreamed would be welcomed and respected by the world. The America I carry in my back pocket as a passport -- the one I no longer want to shred in favor of my other, more Continentally-flavoured option.
This was the America I had almost stopped believing existed, since the moment I became old enough to glean even vaguely what was happening in the governing of our country, it was already too late. In these last eight years I've grown a great deal emotionally, mentally, and physically (though my current goal of 5'7" remains 1/4" distant -- and the gap doesn't seem to be closing), but through all those years I've felt a disconnect between my indentity and my ideals. The world does need change. The world needs inspiration. The world needs action. Action driven by honesty and a desire for solutions. We are no longer in an age of desperate measures. We are capable of working together to create an America which ceases to flail madly and lash out with violence and turmoil when trouble rears its ugly head. We are in good hands. Our own.
With all this in mind, we jubilantly embraced and laughed together in Vollum, before seeking out further revelry. Being a college of a rather liberal and Democratic persuasion, Reed believes that any event of import, certainly this most astonishing and miraculous of elections, may only truly, justly be celebrated by two means: dancing and nudity.
It is therefore hardly surprising that following President-Elect Obama's acceptance speech, we flooded boisterously to the Student Union, with its enormous couch see-saw and glorious vaulted ceiling, shed our garments, and danced as if the stars had floated down to say hello. As if we would never have another opportunity like this. Another night so glorious. And maybe that's true. There were lights and fog and preposterously amazing music and, most importantly of all, a community of people who were absolutely over the moon. Such joy is infectious -- and even now, exhausted, hoarse, blistered, bruised, and rather unprepared for a day of classes tomorrow, I am bursting with great pleasure and hope.
I hope you've all celebrated in your own ways -- quiet or loud -- and I want to say "thank you," because you have all brought this country the leader it needs. And though he embodies the policies we believe in, it is also important to remember that we, the people, elected him. The responsibility of change is in our hands too. Remember kindness. Remember patience. Change doesn't have to build continents from scratch. Most days, it's more than enough to offer a smile and a hug, or a story, or a helping hand. Start small. I promise you the day will come when we move mountains.
Rest well, America of my dreams. Tomorrow is a new, beautiful day.
