On Witnessing History

When you ask people what they remember about pivotal moments in history, almost everyone will have something to say. Those who are lucky enough to have a way with words may make statements both wise and insightful, while others who lack that particular gift may fall back on plainly spoken exclamations of joy. At the moment Barack Obama was named President-elect of the United States, I found myself in the latter category.
Days have passed and I still haven’t been able to find the words to express how I feel about the election results, so I spent some time trying to understand my reaction. I didn’t shed any tears that were heavy with the weight of history; instead, I cheered quietly, clapped my hands, and went on with the rest of my evening. I felt bad about not crying, as if I was somehow letting Black people down, or that I was letting myself down. I felt absolutely no personal connection to the moment, and for me, the queen of emotional responses, that seemed rather odd.
The whole night I felt like I was watching the events unfold from a great emotional distance. Maybe it was the Jack Daniels and diet Cokes I was downing all evening long, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the cause. For whatever reason, I didn’t think I had any right to claim ownership of or participation in this victory, regardless of my ethnic heritage, country of my birth, or the money I donated to the Obama campaign. I think the feeling might be a by-product of living in a different country. It’s like they say, I felt in the moment, but not of it.
What I didn’t expect to feel was a new appreciation for the country I now call home. It hit me that being able to believe that the United States might be able to elect a Black president didn’t come when Barack Obama won Iowa. Instead, it was Michaelle Jean’s appointment to the office of Governor General of Canada that first gave me the power to believe:




I suppose I could chalk this up as evidence of a broadening world view. I could say that if I wanted to put a positive spin on events (and I do). Still, part of me is quite sad that I wasn’t filled with the sense of promise, the scope of possibility, and the new-found spirit of responsibility that many of my friends and family expressed.
I’m holding out hope that I’ll be more properly moved on Inauguration Day.