Today, I did nothing except watch the inauguration. I wasn't planning on spending my day watching the inauguration and the tons of coverage that all the stations broadcasted, but a few minutes before President Obama took the podium, I felt tears well up in my eyes.
The fact that I shed a tear over this ceremony is beyond strange to me. I know a lot of people, especially African Americans have been expressing a great sense of joy about Pres. Obama's victory in the election and could not wait until his swearing-in ceremony. Although I did vote for him and am a supporter of his plans, I have not had any strong emotions regarding this inauguration until today.
Some people, including Kan and my dad did not understand these feelings. I tried to explain it to Dad. I am our family historian. I have delved deep into the background of our genealogy, something that is very difficult when one is black in America. I found ancestors that were slaves, that have been in this country since the early 1800s. I'm sure if I had the material, I cold find distant members of my family that were here in 1700s as well. (I do aim to do further research in the upcoming year and hopefully I am successful at my quest). Seeing my surname on the 1870 census, visually soaking in the ages, location, and children of my great great great great grandparents, was and still is surreal. I come from people who were seen as cattle. They had so many hopes and dreams. Though I am not religious, I know that I am the fulfillment of their prayers. They worked, toiled, struggled. They were beaten, some had children listed as mullatoes and may have been raped. They uprooted all their belongings and travelled hundreds of miles without cars, with little money. They trekked toward opportunity for their children. I know that I have the world at my fingers. If I want something and I have the drive to pursue my dreams, I know that I can achieve anything. I knew this before this beautiful day. I guess some may not have known it, but it is something that has accompanied me all my life. Through every hardship, I myself have endured, I have always known that I live in a great country, a land of opportunity, that my people, my family, were an integral part of the success that is America.
For a while, I did not feel that Pres. Obama was a part of this legacy. When he was running for his office, a lot of African Americans said that he "wasn't black enough." Though I never shared their sentiments, I did feel after his election, after witnessing all these black people extolling this man, that he had not struggled the way my family has struggled. I felt something must be wrong with me because I saw his lineage as apart from mine. The white part of his family, I am sure endured their own struggles as, contrary to what a lot of black folks seem to think, most white people are not rich or well off. Some are drowning in poverty just like African Americans. But, I felt that he, being the first black president, was somehow different. His family had not experienced slavery in this country. They were not raped, seen as subservient, they had not been here for hundreds of years, or built the infrastructure of America from the ground up, with no recognition. But today, I saw him as something more than an American. I saw myself as more than American. I remembered that Kenyans suffered just as much, if not more than my own black ancestors. I thought of their joy at his achievements. I thought of his white family's joy at his achievement and this joy was contagious. I could see how it had invaded the country during that moment. It spread from my chest, making my heart beat faster, to my throat, choking me up, to my eyes and tears actually fell from my eyes over this day. This beautiful day, like all days, where there is always an opportunity for greatness.
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