The Day Obama Made History

On election night I began watching the results on TV right at 7 pm, when only 15% of the votes were in. By 9 pm, I got tired of waiting and browsed the Internet. An hour or so later, my mother came downstairs and told me that Obama had won Ohio, and that no Republican had ever won a race where he lost Ohio. She had a look on her face that read "this is it." I still wasn't convinced. Until I heard the words president-elect and Obama in the same sentence I wouldn't believe it.
At 11 pm, I went to sign out of my email when a message from essence.com appeared. It read "Yes We Did! Barack Obama Becomes the Next President." I didn't know what to think. I got excited then I got paranoid. "Is it possible they could know this soon? It's not even midnight." So I got up from the computer and went upstairs to check out the TV coverage. I didn’t' see Barack, but to my amazement, I saw McCain giving his concession speech. I was dumbfounded. How did this happen so fast, and why wasn't McCain contesting the results? I was almost sure he would becaus I assumed the results would be close. They weren't. The information bar on the bottom of the TV screen showed that Obama had received 334 electoral votes. No one could contest that. Newscasters only needed 270 to make a projection. Obama had also received 51% of the vote, and he had won the election. It was true. Barack Obama was going to be our next president.
I wanted to share the moment with my 70-year old father, who is African-American and for the first time in his life registered to vote this year. For him, this was more than history being made. This was a dream he thought would never come to pass in his lifetime. I went into his room and we restlessly waited for Obama to come on the screen to give his acceptance speech. I watched as Michelle kissed Obama and said " I love you" to him. It was a beautiful and touching moment, and I realized how this win also represented something else for black America. Black love and success can coexist.
I had always believed that the minute I found out that Obama had won, I'd be in tears. I wasn't. I was still in disbelief and shock. I wasn't able to get too emotional because it still wasn't real to me. But as I watched him give his speech and begin talking about the 106 year old woman in Atlanta, and all the events she had seen in her life, including how "a preacher from Atlanta (Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.) told a people that 'We shall overcome," the tears began to fall. And they still do, each time I think about this win and how because of it, Dr. King's dream is realized. His work along with the work of Fannie Lou Hamer, Malcom X, Medgar Evers and all the others whose lives represented the struggle for black equality, can now rest in peace. Their life's work and their deaths were not in vain.
The next morning, I saw the front page headline of The Washington Post that read "Obama Makes History," and the tears began again. It really happpened. At that moment I realized there really is going to be a black family in the White House. There will be a black family representing America. Black Americans everywhere who once had no hope now will have hope. We can now tell our black children that they can do anything, and they will believe us. They will see that you don't have to play dirty to be a success. Rather, they will see that with hard work, dignity and grace that you CAN achieve your dreams. We did it. We abandoned our fears, we kept hope alive, and we made this happen. And I can't stop crying.
It may sound like a cliché but I'll say it anyway. It's a beautiful day in America. It's a beautiful day in the world. Change is on its way, and I can't wait to be a part of it.

Waiting for My Destiny

Last Friday as I sat at the bar of my neighborhood Mexican restaurant Los Tios, waiting to pick up the chicken quesadilla I ordered, I couldn't help but notice all the groups of people, mostly families and young couples with kids enjoying themselves. It made me feel as though I should be doing something more than eating takeout alone on a Friday night. Then I got to thinking, wait a minute! I'm a 36, not 26, and clubbing or doing something else wild on a Friday night isn't really what I need to be doing anyway. Unlike when I was 26, I am striving toward a specific goal, to get two of my children's books published by this coming October and to hopefully sell a ton of them during the holiday season. To accomplish this, I don't need to be partying; I need to, even on a Friday night, keep working toward that goal doing market research and anything else that will help me get to that goal. My life has been pretty good, but I want more out of it than what I've been given - a lot more. I've realized that I've got to stop expecting my life to be like that of those colleagues and friends who are social workers, teachers, nonprofit managers and such, because unlike them, once I am published, my daily life will be nothing like theirs. I would like what I consider a "normal" life but I have to face the fact that my career aspirations aren’t "normal" therefore my journey getting there won't be like everyone else's. I've been temping for a little over a year now, and I'm really tired of it. REALLY tired of it. But I have to work to pay the bills, and if I decide to self-publish my book I have to work to save enough money to do it. There is a chance that I may get a publisher, I think my stories are good enough to get a major publisher, but I’m not going to count on that. I’ve read too many stories of people getting 20 or more rejections before getting a publisher, and I’m not willing to wait that long when I can do it myself in a matter of months. I know that the success I seek is going to happen for me, everyone keeps telling me that my writing is great, but it just seems so far away. But if the old adage, "a good thing is worth waiting for" is true, I must be on my way to something REALLY good. I haven't lost faith, just patience, which has always been a challenge for me. But I guess if Toni Morrison waited until she was 39 before she won her Pulitzer, I can wait another year or two, or three, or even four, to become a best selling millionaire. But damn it if I'm not raking in the dough at age 39 in four years, I'm going to try out for the Rockettes, which was the dream I had at 16, and maybe I'll make history and become the first 40-year old Rockette. I did win a sexy legs contest once, it could happen! I mean, you gotta have a back up plan right? But just in case the Rockette thing doesn't work out either, I'll make sure I have a second backup plan that includes a real career like teaching or something, because I wouldn't want to end up in the loony bin, which is where I would probably end up, trying to be a Rockette at 40 years old. So for now, I'll try not to jump out of the 10 story building I'm temping in and just be thankful I've got work - no matter how mind numbing it may be. I promise that you won’t hear about me on the evening news, my patience isn’t up yet. I do however plan to be on the evening news one day, but in a very positive way - after I've sold a ton of books! It’s going to happen, I’m just in a bit of a rut right now, but some way, some how I’m going to make it happen . Just you wait! I know got wouldn't put the desire in me to do it if he didn't want it for me. Knowing that is what keeps me going, and what makes me know without a doubt this is what I am meant to do.

What I'm Thankful For

This past September, I went on a boat ride with my church members. It was quite a relaxing outing. One of those ahhhhh moments. Having been burned out from temping for practically a year, it was what I needed to get my mind off the fact that I was still without a full-time job and having to temp in a position with a supervisor who acted like the devil. I hadn’t expected to get much out of the boat ride. After all, it wasn’t the Odyssey - but it was quite exhilarating. Even when the tide got testy, splashing sprays of water in my eyes and nose, I enjoyed it. I even took my Shirley Temple ringlets out of my hair clip and enjoyed the wind in my hair, feeling like Rose in Titanic.

There was nothing fancy about the ride, we passed the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials and the Washington monument - all monuments I’ve seen a thousand times riding on the subway. But it was a refreshing reminder of why it’s good to get out and do new things. Why we shouldn’t get comfortable in our “routine.” Because in this era of terrorists attacks, 4-minute dating and reality TV, we have to remember to stop and smell the roses – or in this case, the river water.

Now that it's winter, I really miss being able to take a nice boat ride or stroll through the park. And although I'm enjoying the holidays with the decorated homes and shop windows that come along with it, I definitely look forward to the spring, when everything looks alive and beautiful. I'm not one to complain about the weather much - accept when waiting for a bus or subway train to arrive, but I love the energy that spring brings. I am however making an effort to be more thankful for the winter because without it there wouldn't be icicles or snow angels, or the holidays that bring people together - which I cherish not because of the gifts but because I am blessed to have my family members alive and well with me.

So instead of griping about the weather and traffic delays and not having enough money for holiday gifts, I'm choosing to focus on the fact that God has granted me another day, week and year on earth, because things could always be worse, as those in Iraq and victims of natural disasters unfortunately know all to well. I'm going to thank God for every day that I am still here, alive and safe, and that my mother, father, sisters, brother and nieces and nephews, cousins, and treasured friends are all here for me to kiss and hug through the holidays even though bad weather and political madness may come with it.

Ministers and other Christians will say to thank God even for the hard times in life, and I am working to adopt that philosophy because the way I see it is I can be here dealing with crazy people, bad weather and difficult situations, and keep on keepin' on, or I could be like others I’ve heard about in the news, dead and gone. It’s a bit morbid way of thinking maybe, but I don’t see it that way. I see it as taking the focus off the hardships, and staying focused on the blessings that I sometimes overlook but that when I really stop and think, am so fortunate and thankful to be given.

Myths of Being Bi-racial

I once had a white co-worker say to me, “April, you’re not black, you’re whiter than me” stretching his arms to reveal his suntanned skin. I was insulted. I’m also insulted when a black man or woman tells me “If you're half black, you're all black.” Both are ignorant mentalities. As if I’m supposed to deny any part of my heritage simply because I look a certain way or because of some ignorant 1800’s race rule. I refuse to give into any of these ways of thinking because I am proud to be who I am. God made me this way, and it is a blessing – even with the ignorance I encounter. While I’ve had many negative experiences because of my insistence to claim both sides of my race, I am happy to be who I am because I was raised by wonderful parents. Unlike many biracial children, my parents are still together - 41 years and counting. Their union, along with their refusal to try to make me into anything I didn’t want to be has made my bi-racial experience a mostly healthy and loving one. While society has dished out some harsh realities regarding racism, my parents made it possible for me to survive it all.

As a child in elementary school, very often, what I heard when I met someone new was "Oh you’re April, that pretty mixed girl.” In high school, it was “Oh, you’re the one with the pretty hair I heard about.” This was generally from those in the black community. White people didn't seem to care about me. I now realize that was more of a class issue than a race one, although I did from time to time have a white person in high school say "oh, you’re that girl who hangs around all the black people." I'd then inform them that I hung around “black people” because I was black myself. In college, I discovered what some today call "hateration." Being so naive and sheltered as a child and teenager, going into my 20's I didn't understand why "hating" existed. But what I did understand was that not everyone was so positive about my bi-racial status. In the black community, women are very competitive with one another. This is unfortunate, because it’s the women that hold the black community together. If anything, we need to unite, not fight. If I had a dollar for all the hateful stares I've received, I'd be a billionaire.

The hateful stares usual occur when I’m on the arm of a black man. However, black men themselves at times have hated on me too. In my clubbing days, I was once at a black nightclub and a man sitting next to me - out of the blue, without saying as much of a hello said “What are you doing here? You light, bright, and damn near white.” The insults use to be really hurtful, and even now it gets frustrating constantly having to defend myself. But I realize it is society that makes some believe that lighter skin is better, in turn making them hate their own darker skin. More frustrating is the belief that my life is somehow easier because I’m light-skinned or “high-yellow,” because nothing could be farther from the truth.

Fortunately, all my experiences have not been all bad. I have met many beautiful black sisters and brothers who are completely accepting of my white skin, and treat me with love, and respect me as a fellow sister. And black men for the most part, love and accept me, but usually are taken aback when they discover my pride in being black. Some appreciate it, some don’t. Either way, I’m going to keep on being who I am because I refuse to give into any kind of hatred from whites or blacks. Because it is my mission in life to educate - not to hate.