Euphoria, and peace...

On the night of the election I was nervous. Despite every poll saying Barack Obama was up, I still did not believe he could do it. I was scared Americans were too racist, and that McCain was gearing up to fight dirty in Ohio, Florida and every other contested state. The lines to vote on Nov. 4 were staggering. Traffic was a nightmare. Polling stations all over Hollywood had 40 minute to 2 hour waits. And people were waiting. They cared. Whomever they were going to vote for, they were fired up, and I had never, ever seen that before. People knew it was historic. Mothers were photographing their infants sitting in the polling booths, and parents were picking up their kids from school to take them to vote in this historic election.

I turned on the television at 4, as the first returns starting coming in, but there was so little information and so much speculation I couldn't stand it. I turned it off and forced myself to stay off the internet.

I had an art class and Jonathan encouraged me to go. I figured it would keep my mind busy until the real returns came in. But half an hour into the art class another teacher walked in with a paper cup of champagne. He's going to win, she said. He's up to 200. I couldn't believe it. Only three of us had even come to class, and we tried to concentrate on papermaking and printing. But then the call of the television became too powerful. We heard whoops of joy and all the teachers and students ran out into the office to see. The election was called. Obama had won. 125,000 people were crowded into Grant Park in Chicago waiting for Obama to come out and accept. We sat there stunned, amazed. I was crying. The black woman next to me just started sobbing. She ran from the room. I had to go to the bathroom. I could hear her sobbing and sobbing in the stall next to me: in disbelief, joy. I realized I really could not imagine what it would be like as a black person. This woman was a quiet, self-effacing older black woman who is not very expressive and does not say much in class. When she finally emerged from the stall and her eyes were still red, her cheeks, too. All she said was, "I just can't believe it."

I grabbed my art supplies and ran home. We were part of history. I wanted to be with Jonathan and the boys when Obama came out. I heard McCain conceding on the way home. He was gracious, sincere, heartfelt. When his supporters booed Obama he stopped them (unlike during the campaign...) If he had been himself, this man, during the campaign, he might have won. But he wasn't. He wanted to win so badly he lost himself. And right now, people have been so fucked over, so hurt, so lied to and deceived, they needed someone who would talk straight (once his mantra) and not waver.

We sat on the sofa in a big pile and watched Obama. He was magnificent. He made his speech not about himself, but about those who voted him in. He made his speech a call to arms, to volunteer, to give, to sacrifice. He is giving people a place to plug in again. His crowd was big, yes, but also so diverse. There were old people, young people, every color of people. There were oceans of black people, YOUNG black people, who I realized mostly appear in our culture in music and sports videos, or in gang propaganda. They were looking up at Obama with so much hope. He has changed things. Just by achieving this.

Our preschool teacher (black) said she couldn't sleep all night, and that her mother was awake all night crying. She was born in Arkansas in 1929 and never thought she would see the day.

I am moved because this is historical. Because it is a victory over racism, and for what is possible. But more than anything I feel like Obama's victory isa victory of hope. It is a deliberate end to meanness, bitterness, cynicism and hatred.That has been the unifying force in the Republican party for the last two elections--to divide through base level prejudices about religion, abortion, gay rights or race. We have returned to a world that will focus on building something positive--or at least trying--rather than living in fear of something negative.

That night I slept more peacefully than I have in months. He won. There is hope. Things will get better. Americans will aim to be something more than entitled assholes in the world. Hallelujah!