Seas of people, black, white, brown, young, old, straight, gay, rich, poor, educated, less educated, employed, unemployed—the gamut of the human Diaspora in a wonderful rainbow of hues and complex ideologies stood up together and said loud and clear and with authority—“Yes we can!”

I took that chant with me into the voting booth, a mantra in my mind… yes, we can be a better nation; yes, we can treat people better; yes, we can be better global citizens; yes, we can be our brother’s and sister’s keepers; yes, we can care about and feed the hungry; yes, we can do the unimaginable; yes, we can live up to our ideals; yes, we can fix this economy and put some justice back into the distribution of wealth; yes, we can believe that an African American man can truly love a woman honorably… and raise his children right, and call that classy, sexy woman, “First Lady,” without affairs and drama and madness and mess… yes, we can believe in a better future. So I wept.

I screamed and cried and did the happy dance in the middle of my floor. I blew up cell phones and landlines, talking on two phones at once. I wept and screamed and stomped like we’d won the World Series—because we as a nation have. I could feel the respect returning through the airwaves from other countries to soak into my skin—when I travel I no longer have to hang my head in shame as an “ugly American.” We have behaved badly abroad for way too long.

When I recently went to the Bahamas on book tour, the local folks repeatedly pulled me aside, anxious, and asking the question, “Do you think he will win? We are all so hopeful worldwide; we will come to Florida to help America celebrate.” This is what foreigners said about us here in the United States. They told me this in Customs. They told me this in cabs. They told me this in restaurants. They told me this in hotels. Everywhere we went, and my family can testify, since they too were there—people stopped us once they found out we were Americans and said how they wished they could vote with us to help the change come. I told them that I believed in this nation; that a chance was gonna come, as old folks say… could feel it in me bones, chile. So last night I cried while laughing and simply shaking my head. I felt so many emotions at once, it’s still hard to catalogue them, I’m still processing my own inner change and how I feel.

But most of all, I could feel the sudden sweep of joy-filled peace, that sort of supernatural peace that surpasses all understanding when I finally closed my eyes and laid my head on my pillow knowing in my soul… yes we can!

Much love, One Love, World Peace!
Stay in the Light… Hugs from Philadelphia, PA — A TRUE BLUE STATE!
***Leslie

So, I called her at 6 AM–which is heresy for college students, but we had made a pact. She met me at 6:30AM on the front doorstep, sleepy but present, so we could vote together… but not before I found my dad’s favorite tie and my mother’s wedding band. They couldn’t be here in the flesh to see something that they’d marched for… so I took a little bit of them with me to the polls. But as I got in line with my child, yep, holding her hand because I was so excited, she said… “Mom, you look like you’re about to cry.” I was I started fanning my face and trying to speak without getting choked up to tell her, “Baby, do you know how many people didn’t live to see this day in our family? Do you know how many elders sat at Thanksgiving and Christmas and at summer barbecues talking about the one day/what if? Do you know how blessed I feel to be standing in line with my child–one her first day of pulling the lever–and THIS is who you get to vote for your first time?! OMG!”

As I said that to her, other people congratulated my baby-girl, giving her kudos for being a first time voter and complimenting her on standing in line with her mom. I started pulling my dad’s tie out and showing folks… “This was for the brother who couldn’t make it.” My child wanted to drop dead of embarrassment, but other folks in line understood. I told her this wasn’t about a matter of black or white, it was about making a choice for someone you thought had integrity and hope and had lived his life a certain way (walked the walk and not just talked the talk)… but more importantly than the choice of candidate it was about exercising your right–no matter what your flavor… it was about being involved in the process of change, the process of casting the ballot. Folks took the water hoses, the dogs, braved police lines, and faced lynch mobs … all so we could do this one thing—VOTE.

After a moment, my kid whipped out her cell phone. She started furiously texting. I thought my long-winded speech had fallen on deaf ears until she showed me her phone. She had a message to her entire phone book. “WAKE UP THIS IS HISTORY–OMG DON’T BLOW IT!” The next thing I knew, her phone was vibrating and people in line were clapping as she was telling other young folks, “Get the hell up and get out of bed, you can’t be playing today, for real!”

Needless to say, that’s when the tears fell… I am soooo very, very proud–the torch has been passed!

ROCK THE VOTE! BIG PHILLY HUG… and do your part!
Hugs, Leslie!