Holding my breath with hope

The television is on, it's early, nothing is really happening but yet everything is changing. My heart randomly seems to stop, tears well up at nothing in particular. The last time I watched an inauguration was Clinton's with his promises and charm; what I remember was hope and Maya Angelou. Now I am glued to the television. I am moved and fearful.

"The people we are waiting for is us". That piece of Obama's message was just stated again and it was projected that it will be a theme in his speech. That would certainly echo Kennedy's "ask not what your country can do for you but what will you do for your country" theme. It is a far cry from Bush's style of engagement with this country. We will just leave it that.

This is a day I always hoped for, very much tied in my mind with the hope of a woman president for this country, since I was a child. Raised in a democratic household, an academic household, and a feminist household gave me a sense of the injustice in the world but also they somehow managed to cultivate my innate hopefulness in humanity. That hopefulness, my optimistic nature has been scoffed even by my father who said a number of times that I would outgrow what he called my naivete. I would like to think that I have not.

My mother's first political activism was campaigning for Kennedy even though she was not old enough to vote (one had to be 21 years old at that time). She felt so connected to him that she sent him a birth announcement when I was born. it is had for me to imagine, even today doing the same with any president. I suppose it was a different time, or perhaps it was more about how connected one can feel to a public figure. It is true that I feel like I could actually have a conversation with Obama, but my mother's act feels like a stretch and yet I can imagine people sending birth announcement to him as she did all those years ago. She also received a formal acknowledgement from the White House. It is postmarked 11 days before he was assassinated.

Growing up my parents marched for civil rights, the women's movement, and against the Vietnam War. I went to a number of these events, though I remember little of them I am certain that they contributed to who I am today. I have no conscious memory of King's or RKF's assisnations but they too shaped me as they were topics that ran our kitchen table. Vocal condemnations rang out again Nixon and his politics. When Shirley Chisholm was campaigning her image littered our home, buttons on labels, and words of hope whispered, shouted. Stories that though my grandfather was a white European, an escapee from Dachau, he was so dark (helped by lying in the sun at every opportunity) that he and my grandmother were refused service. Even looking not white enough left one vulnerable to prejudice.

Today we have an African-American president. How did we get here? I don't actually know the answer, on a really deep profound level. I really don't. I am awed that we are but I also do not think this changes everything. Not even close but what a start to the potential new world. Now my heart has regulated, the tears have stopped (mostly), and my breathing is easier (again, mostly) because he is now officially our president and it does change everything regardless what happens next.

Advance insight and smart recouping

It is an entry which is almost entirely links.

Initially I was quite excited and I admit a bit stunned when I read on Arse's blog that Edwards had hired feminists bloggers from Pandagon and Shakespeare's Sister (blogs that have long been in my personal lists of sites to visit regularly). Seriously, these people write strong statements, use salty language, and OMG actually refer to themselves as feminists (shush!!!!). Seriously. Writing for a presidential candidate? I thought have things really changed, could we truly be moving in a forward pattern? Reading comments at Arse, particularly by Diane, whom I respect a great deal, gave me significant pause even while I marveled at how bloggers are an entity recognized by circles that I was sure would scoff at the majority of us.

Of course it did not last. Amanda Marcotte and Melissa McEwan both resigned, both gracefully saying the Edwards machine did not ask them to step down,but rather begrudgingly supported their decisions. Who knows the truth but these women have been quite dignified. While I had hoped for some interesting dialogue I am happy that they are back where they are comfortable and well regarded.

Yesterday I found, probably through Arse (have I mentioned how much I adore her and her blog? No? Well, really it is one of those blogs where I read every post. Oh what I was saying something else wasn't I? Oh yes, I remember.) Somehow (though we all know it was through you my dearest Arse) I found an article by a feminist blogger, whom I had not come across before, who was woo'd before Amanda to come hop on the campaign train. I found the article interesting because of the level of naivete portrayed by Lindsay of "Bob". Really it was sweet, hopeful and reflected a bit more of how I wish things could be in a way. Lindsay points out just how much of a divide between how her blog works and what "Bob" thinks could be. I also got some insight into the politics of blogging, politics that are using blogs, political blogs and probably a few other variations of those words together.

Related to all of this is the most recent debacle that is Ann Coutler. I am hesitant to actually provide a link to this woman because I have so little respect for her. If you haven't heard of her, don't know enough to have an opinion on her, google to your heart's content. Speaking as if she had a sense of humour Ann used the word faggot to refer, in a very obtuse way, to John Edwards. Check here for a video of the lovely speech. At some point, I believe after this event (cannot remember where I found this) she said that she would never insult gay people by comparing them to Edwards. Interesting way to try to save face. The Edwards machinery has used this little zinger most creatively by attempting to capitalize on the public's hunger for such titillating displays that pass as intellectual debate. They have created something called "Coulter Cash". Without thinking about it too much, I absolutely love this idea. I am sure wiser brains will find a problem with it, but for now, I am kind of gleeful about it, even though, thanks to Diane I have no false illusions about Edwards as my democratic choice.