
Democratic Presidential Nominee, Barack Obama and his family on election night in Chicago, IL on Wednesday, November 5, 2008. (David Katz/Obama for America)
In a quiet and somber voice that carried the magnificent weight of the words being said, Charlie Gibson announced: “Barack Obama will be the 44th president of the United States The screen showed a shot of crowds going crazy in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles-all over the country. After two solid minutes, I jerked up from the couch where I was sitting with my roommate and said, “Wait, he won? It’s over?”
My roommates, who are also African-American, were shocked into silence and didn’t respond. For us, the immediate reaction wasn’t jumping and screaming-even though in the ensuing minutes, we heard car-honking and gleeful shouting from outside. We just sat, dumbfounded, staring at the TV set. I half-expected Ashton to jump out and say, “Ha, you just got punked!” But this was real. The American people had spoken, and they elected their first non-white president. I let the reality of this wash over me. A dream that had started more than two years ago had been realized with the softly spoken words of Charlie Gibson.
Two hundred years of history had been shattered and America had faced the ugly specter of its past, overcoming it. The election commentary covering Obama’s massive sweep over McCain, McCain’s class-act concession speech, the man-on-the-street interviews with everyone from a steel worker to Dr. King’s daughter, were all kind of a fast-forwarded blur that came to pause when Obama gave his victory speech to thousands of supporters in Grant Park in Chicago. For this, I got off the couch and, like a kid eager to watch Saturday morning cartoons, sat with my face six inches away from the TV.
“If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer,” Obama started.
Yes, it was. I’m only 19, but I still didn’t expect to see something like this in my lifetime. It was just some kind of crazy notion that I had never even bothered to entertain until a few months ago. How could a nation that was built on slavery ever come together and elect a black president? It had been 143 years since the end of the Civil War and 44 years since the Civil Rights Act. A few decades ago, a man like Barack wouldn’t even have been able to vote, and here he was addressing millions across the globe as the de facto leader of the free world.
Change had come to America. All it took was “two wars, a planet in crisis, and the worst financial crisis in a century,” but it had happened. Filling with hope and elation, I soaked in every word of Obama’s speech. It rang of truth and captured the fierce admiration of the thousands who were in Grant Park that night. White, black, Hispanic, young, old, rich, poor-they were all enraptured. Out of every part of Obama’s speech, there was one sentence that resonated with me the most.
“This is your victory.”
Those four simple words summed it all up. For as much faith as I had in Obama and his ability to lead, that was nothing compared to the renewed faith and awe I had in the American people. The young, the poor, the minorities, all of the overlooked and disenfranchised segments of the population across the country, realized the strength in their numbers and the true meaning of a democracy, showing how “a government of the people, by the people and for the people had not perished from the earth.” Two wars and economic strife had awakened the sleeping giant that was the forgotten, apathetic voter.
“It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation’s apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep…”
It was our victory.
So as I listened to Obama’s speech, my heart filled with a new kind of the hope for the American people more so than hope for Obama. The people had spoken and they wanted change, Obama was just the messenger. My only wish is that this awoken giant will not go back into its slumber, but remain vigilant, mobilized, and self-aware.
This was my first time voting and one of the few moments in my life where I felt part of something bigger than myself. What I thought mattered and millions of other young people came to this epiphany as they organized, as they rallied, and finally, as they voted.