So many people told us we were crazy to go to Obama’s inauguration. Don’t get me wrong there were valid reasons. It would be crowded (which would turn out to be an understatement), unthinkably cold, uncomfortable, no where to park, jam packed highways and that’s if we even made it there. Like so many I had a strong urge to be there. To see with my own two eyes the first Black President.

I heard amongst the crowd, they just wanted to be there. It didn’t matter that it felt like 17 degrees or that there was no where to sit and few places to keep warm; there was something powerful about being in the midst of the first African American President. A day that many people thought would never come. A day when race was no longer a barrier for a candidate to run for presidency, and a person could be judged and measured on their personal character, their qualifications for the job. It’s humbling and today I’m still in disbelief that in this time, in this moment we can all say this is happening. As we stood in the ocean of people watching gigantic screens of celebrities and members of Congress, there was this positive vibe that’s hard to really put into words. Even with home foreclosures, job layoffs, the economic depression, people were genuinely excited and happy to be there. Every walk of life was there, old, young, Obama having inspired something in all of us; a renewed sense of responsibility, a small kindle of hope that in the economy’s darkest hour the American spirit would preserve.

While soaking up all of the optimism, I almost forgot that my hands were going numb and slowly but surely turning blue. We reached the mall around 7:00 and entered the cold winter day around 7:45. It took two hours and fifteen minutes for me to realize I couldn’t make it out there. The museums finally opened around 10am and Shannon and I went inside to get warm. People were lined against the walls sleeping, huddling together to get warm. It was quite a sight to see. Right below the exhibit for “Price of Freedom”, people were huddled in groups sleeping, awaiting to see their new president take office. It seems the price of Inaugurations was exhaustion. Even after warming up I realized I wouldn’t really be able to enjoy the moment of Obama taking office the way I wanted to. I wanted to see the slow dissolves of crowd shots as Obama spoke the Oath of Office, and I wanted to see the tight shots of his face, (working in television has really spoiled me eh?) so we decided to call it quits. Looking back I wish I had the strength to stay but my gloves just weren’t equip. It was either that or I’d lose a finger to frostbite. I much prefer having 10 fingers. So like all of you I headed back to a friend’s house and watched Obama take office in the comfort of a warm house. Hey I can still say I was there…

January 20th was such a beautiful day for so many reasons. I realize this day means something different for so many people. I’ve heard people say seeing Obama’s rise to presidency has shown them they can do anything. Now they truly believe the American dream of the pursuit of happiness is attainable to everyone. This may sound conceited, but I’ve always felt I could do anything. I had two hardworking black parents who got their educations after having three kids and always managed to reach the goals they set for themselves. I learned early the value of hard work, determination, and perseverance. While no dream is easy to this day I don’t feel they are out of reach. I didn’t believe my blackness defined me, sure I’m a black woman but that didn’t mean I had to live the standards society places on a black woman or black people in general. I could be whoever I wanted to be. So when I first read Obama’s book Audacity of Hope, I saw in him many of the values my parents instilled in me. I felt the optimism of what America could be with the right direction and hope. But I realize that my story, my song of life is not the same for a lot black people. Whenever I forget I’m reminded of a conversation I had with a peer of mine Alisha Ward. Her knowledge in civil rights and black affairs reminds me that being black for some is a ticket for discrimination and mistreatment. And as a Black American unfamiliar with their stories I’d best educate on myself on the songs of people who didn’t have it like me. So I can see how Barack’s story can make so many black people believe that there is hope for their story to reach potential. I understand that because this black man made it, so many others can believe they can. I’m reminded of the older black people who marched to the mall on walkers and walking sticks, moved to tears by the sight of our new Native Son. The idea that Barack’s presidency could serve as healing, redemption, and peace of so many who wrestled with racism. Like a struggle come full circle. I feel the warm hearts of black men who can be seen as more than just violent and criminal. I can envision the spectrum of who we can be in mainstream America. The idea that today we show the world that blackness has so much range. We are strong, we are fighters, we are brave, we are sweet, we can be tender, we can be articulate, and our song, our story has gotten a lot colorful and full of range and possibility. Today I am more proud than ever to be a black woman in this time, in this moment. I accept Obama’s challenge to be more, to dream big, to believe big, knowing that hope is one of God’s greatest gifts. Thankful Barack Hussein Obama for renewing the American Dream!