When I was little my Uncle Oliver would throw me up in the air and catch me over and over again. It was my favorite game. It made me feel happy, cared for and exhilarated all at the same time. When Senator Barack Obama was declared the winner of Tuesday night's election, I felt all of these things. Finally, taking a leap of faith had paid off. All of a sudden a whole new world opened up. I shed a single tear, took some pictures with my friend Yaelle, called my mother, aunt and grandmother and texted everyone I knew. On the two hour ride through the subways to Williamsburg I saw the tired yet elated faces of my fellow New Yorkers. When I finally emerged above ground the riot police were blocking off Bedford Avenue while search helicopters saught stray "rioters" on side streets. Apparently, some people were a little too happy in this Obama stronghold.
Over the past few days a new feeling has settled in. When I was little the beach was my weekend hangout. My mother allowed me to swim alone, but always gave me a strict marker on my bathing suit that I wasn't allowed to go past. At the time Hawaii was one of those majestic places where you could see straight to the bottom of the ocean floor. It helped if you were interested in avoiding sea urchins and sharp rocks. Go out too far and you would injure your feet, or worse, get caught in a rip tide and be carried out to sea. On those rare weekends when my father was home he often decided that I needed to be toughened up. He would carry me much further out into the ocean, waaaay past my safety marker. So incredibly far, that I couldn't see through the water to the bottom (it helps to keep in mind that he was literally twice my height). I would hold onto him for dear life and protest quite loudly that he carry me back to shore. Sometimes he obliged me, but mostly he wanted me to explore and to see the world from a little further away. All I felt was the huge expanse of the sea ready to swallow me up, and take me away from everything I knew.
Those feelings of uncertainty, of the completely and utterly unknown are what have settled in. What does it mean to have an Obama presidency? What does it man to not have a Bush or Clinton in the White House? On a personal note, what does it mean to have someone like me in the presidency? Not just "like me" because he's biracial, but because he was raised by a single mother and his grandparents, plus he's well-educated, progressive, pragmatic and young. Yes, many of these things could describe President Bill Clinton, but, honestly I wasn't nearly as cognizant of his administration as I was of President George W. Bush's. The consequences of the latter presidency will stay with us for generations to come, no matter how amazing (or not) President Obama proves to be. I have high hopes for the next four (dare I say, eight) years, but I'm also full of the fear of the unknown. It's actually a positive fear in an odd way. That scared feeling you get when you sense your hopes are being raised, and you just hope to God that no one will bring them down, but you know someone probably will, so you hold back a little.
I thought that I would have carried the unexamined elation of Tuesday through at least today!
In other news: Williams beat Amherst in their 123rd match-up. I love my new job (more on that later). I love the new Trader Joe's in Cobble Hill (way more on that later). Karin and Ryu are getting married next weekend and I'm going to be a bridesmaid. (I bought gold shoes today - 30% off! I am so a recessionista.) I'm happy to be back in New York.
xoxoxo
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