Two hours after it was announced that Barack Hussein Obama was elected President of the United States, I was standing in the middle of downtown Philadelphia. I was surrounded by people cheering and dancing in the streets, in the thick of a spontaneous celebration the likes of which I had never seen.
I stood next to a older black woman at that corner of Broad and Walnut street, struck by wonder by the sheer joy that filled the air. We were standing there, ridiculous grins on both our faces, when she turned to me, enveloped me, a total stranger, in a hug and said:
“Today…we are all Americans. We are ALL Americans.”
and today, for the first time in eight years, I actually believed it.
Eight years ago, when George Bush dropped the first bombs on Iraq, my heart was broken. I vowed never to stand for the national anthem, never to recite the pledge of allegiance, to curse Bush with every breath because my faith in the nation in which I was born and raised was utterly destroyed.
And I stuck to that promise for the next eight years onward. My hatred for the Bush Administration, for the War on Iraq, for the unjust so-called “War on Terrorism” defined me, drove me, made me the activist that I am today. For I believed that it was only through collective action and expression could I hope to struggle against the monster that our government was slowly becoming. As a Muslim American, my commitment and loyalty to this country was questioned constantly, as thousands of my Muslim brothers and sisters endured harassment, torture, and imprisonment by Homeland Security and its ilk for simply being who they were. Its as if Bush was giving us a giant (excuse my language) “Fuck You” sign: you might be born and raised here, but you’re not a real American. Forget about it.
and then a funny thing happened. This guy, Barack Hussein Obama–a junior senator from Illinois, a half-black half-white man with a Muslim dad and Muslim name that meant “Blessed” came along. At the 2000 Democratic Convention, he gave the speech of a lifetime. People said he could run for President, and I am embarassed to admit that I thought they were spouting total bullshit. “He’s never going to be elected…a black man AND he has a foreign name? AND he’s part Muslim? You must be crazy. White people would cut off their left arm before voting for him.”
Fast forward eight years. I honorably take back those words. Obama proved me dead wrong.
All those hours of sign-making, canvassing, caucusing, organizing, rallying, and talking to my neighbors about the Obama campaign came down to today. And today we had our triumph. and damn, it was truly sweet. In my months of volunteering, I met young and old men and women–asian, white, and black–gay and straight–northern, southern and from every state in between. We shared a common dream: that we wanted to be freed from the chains of the past eight years and start anew.
Meg, the mom whose husband watched her six-month old son who canvassed with me all over the streets of Philly. Pam, the woman with the connections at the Obama office on Locust street. Robert, the guy who stood outside in the rain with me to help voters find their way to the poll. To my caucus-mates and neighbors in Seattle, Washington who inspired me to believe in the decency of regular American folk. My mom and dad, my little brother and sister, and even my aunt, the reluctant voter–who became involved in politics for the first time. You all inspired me.
But perhaps most significantly, my friends and compadres-in-arms at University of Washington and Thomas Jefferson University and the millions and millions of young people without whom this victory would’ve been impossible. To all those naysayers who said that we would never be a potent force in politics because we were too dumb or didn’t care, too apathetic and self-absorbed to get involved in any campaign, we proved them dead-ass wrong. We spent our sweat, blood and tears into this election. We put Obama in office, bitches! It’s about time you listened up!
Only sixty years ago, Obama wouldn’t have been able to sit in the front of the bus with a white man. A hundred years ago, he could’ve been a slave. Today he stands elected to the highest office our country can offer, not purely because of skin color, but because people believed in his vision for America. History has truly come full circle, and this moment has been one nearly 150 years in the making. As my friend from that corner of Broad and Walnut street noted: “It’s been a long time coming. But we’ve overcome…we’ve overcome”.
So today, I once again will proudly call myself an American. And President Barack Hussein Obama- I will never tire of saying that–our country is hurting. Our task lies before us- let’s make it happen.
To quote my friend Ben G.:
“Rosa sat so Martin could walk. Martin walked so Barack could run. Barack is running so everyone can fly.”
