We encounter each other in words

Today at work we gathered in the conference room (with pastries!) to watch the inauguration of Barack Obama as the 44th president of the United States (on our 30″ Apple cinema display!). I sat in the back row, in the corner near the window, with my iPhone and a green napkin in my lap. I ate glazed doughnut bites and cinnamon roll pieces. I wore a gray turtleneck sweater and gray/black/white plaid pants. I felt insecure about the length of my newly shorn hair when my boss took out his camera.

I’m telling you all this in unnecessary detail because I want to remember it all. I want to look back and remember how I felt again—the second time since the election results were announced—a glimpse of what it feels like not to be ashamed of my country. To feel as though we’re heading forward, heading toward something—anything—good this time, instead of digging ourselves deeper and deeper. To imagine that one day I will travel abroad again and might not be warned to tell people “I’m from Canada” because Americans are so hated internationally. To be able to tell people I’m from the U.S. and not have to add a “But I don’t support our president!” disclaimer after I see them start to judge me, silently but unmistakably.

I want to remember what it felt like to watch the swearing in of someone who I did not fear was going to try to legislate the circumstances under which I had control of my reproductive organs. And how for at least the next four years, I probably won’t have to explain to people that no, it’s not a stupid fear, and you don’t get to dictate what causes are important to me.

This election was a contentious one, and tumultuous for me personally. I sparred with friends over many issues, and there were many nights that I ended up in tears, sure I would never wax political with anyone again. One night I escaped a conversation and ended up hiding in my bedroom closet with the cat, hugging my laptop as I waited for it to be over. For most of the election, I felt like Ian was the only one on my side, even if at times he didn’t completely understand the level of emotion specific issues brought out in me. I saw the discord in the eyes of a couple I know, and realized how lucky I am that Ian and I think so similarly on political and social issues.

I am not stupid. I know that Barack Obama cannot fix everything by Friday. He is not a messiah, Jesus, witchdoctor, magician or Atreyu. George W. Bush spent his eight years fucking shit up, and there’s no telling how long it will take to undo the harm he has done the people of this country. There are scars that will never disappear.

There are scars that will NEVER disappear.

But Obama has the brains and common sense to give it a better shot than anyone else who was in the running (except maybe Hillary Clinton, but because people still fear a Vagina in Charge she got a bad rap), and the election showed the country believes the same. I mean, honestly, it can’t get any worse than W.

The election tired me out. I’m still exhausted emotionally from it. If I even hear people start to debate abortion rights, gay marriage or welfare programs my gut seizes up and I look for the quickest exit. I’m tired of arguing.

So this morning, watching the inauguration, I had a secret little party in my head. The next four years are going to be like a crazy road trip. I love road trips. I’m really, really hopeful.

I feel like I am about to witness great things in slow motion.

And what if Elizabeth Alexander is right?

“What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.”

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The headline of this post was taken from my favorite line of the inaugural poem.

~ by Megan on January 20, 2009.