The Day Obama Made History

On election night I began watching the results on TV right at 7 pm, when only 15% of the votes were in. By 9 pm, I got tired of waiting and browsed the Internet. An hour or so later, my mother came downstairs and told me that Obama had won Ohio, and that no Republican had ever won a race where he lost Ohio. She had a look on her face that read "this is it." I still wasn't convinced. Until I heard the words president-elect and Obama in the same sentence I wouldn't believe it.
At 11 pm, I went to sign out of my email when a message from essence.com appeared. It read "Yes We Did! Barack Obama Becomes the Next President." I didn't know what to think. I got excited then I got paranoid. "Is it possible they could know this soon? It's not even midnight." So I got up from the computer and went upstairs to check out the TV coverage. I didn’t' see Barack, but to my amazement, I saw McCain giving his concession speech. I was dumbfounded. How did this happen so fast, and why wasn't McCain contesting the results? I was almost sure he would becaus I assumed the results would be close. They weren't. The information bar on the bottom of the TV screen showed that Obama had received 334 electoral votes. No one could contest that. Newscasters only needed 270 to make a projection. Obama had also received 51% of the vote, and he had won the election. It was true. Barack Obama was going to be our next president.
I wanted to share the moment with my 70-year old father, who is African-American and for the first time in his life registered to vote this year. For him, this was more than history being made. This was a dream he thought would never come to pass in his lifetime. I went into his room and we restlessly waited for Obama to come on the screen to give his acceptance speech. I watched as Michelle kissed Obama and said " I love you" to him. It was a beautiful and touching moment, and I realized how this win also represented something else for black America. Black love and success can coexist.
I had always believed that the minute I found out that Obama had won, I'd be in tears. I wasn't. I was still in disbelief and shock. I wasn't able to get too emotional because it still wasn't real to me. But as I watched him give his speech and begin talking about the 106 year old woman in Atlanta, and all the events she had seen in her life, including how "a preacher from Atlanta (Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.) told a people that 'We shall overcome," the tears began to fall. And they still do, each time I think about this win and how because of it, Dr. King's dream is realized. His work along with the work of Fannie Lou Hamer, Malcom X, Medgar Evers and all the others whose lives represented the struggle for black equality, can now rest in peace. Their life's work and their deaths were not in vain.
The next morning, I saw the front page headline of The Washington Post that read "Obama Makes History," and the tears began again. It really happpened. At that moment I realized there really is going to be a black family in the White House. There will be a black family representing America. Black Americans everywhere who once had no hope now will have hope. We can now tell our black children that they can do anything, and they will believe us. They will see that you don't have to play dirty to be a success. Rather, they will see that with hard work, dignity and grace that you CAN achieve your dreams. We did it. We abandoned our fears, we kept hope alive, and we made this happen. And I can't stop crying.
It may sound like a cliché but I'll say it anyway. It's a beautiful day in America. It's a beautiful day in the world. Change is on its way, and I can't wait to be a part of it.

Myths of Being Bi-racial

I once had a white co-worker say to me, “April, you’re not black, you’re whiter than me” stretching his arms to reveal his suntanned skin. I was insulted. I’m also insulted when a black man or woman tells me “If you're half black, you're all black.” Both are ignorant mentalities. As if I’m supposed to deny any part of my heritage simply because I look a certain way or because of some ignorant 1800’s race rule. I refuse to give into any of these ways of thinking because I am proud to be who I am. God made me this way, and it is a blessing – even with the ignorance I encounter. While I’ve had many negative experiences because of my insistence to claim both sides of my race, I am happy to be who I am because I was raised by wonderful parents. Unlike many biracial children, my parents are still together - 41 years and counting. Their union, along with their refusal to try to make me into anything I didn’t want to be has made my bi-racial experience a mostly healthy and loving one. While society has dished out some harsh realities regarding racism, my parents made it possible for me to survive it all.

As a child in elementary school, very often, what I heard when I met someone new was "Oh you’re April, that pretty mixed girl.” In high school, it was “Oh, you’re the one with the pretty hair I heard about.” This was generally from those in the black community. White people didn't seem to care about me. I now realize that was more of a class issue than a race one, although I did from time to time have a white person in high school say "oh, you’re that girl who hangs around all the black people." I'd then inform them that I hung around “black people” because I was black myself. In college, I discovered what some today call "hateration." Being so naive and sheltered as a child and teenager, going into my 20's I didn't understand why "hating" existed. But what I did understand was that not everyone was so positive about my bi-racial status. In the black community, women are very competitive with one another. This is unfortunate, because it’s the women that hold the black community together. If anything, we need to unite, not fight. If I had a dollar for all the hateful stares I've received, I'd be a billionaire.

The hateful stares usual occur when I’m on the arm of a black man. However, black men themselves at times have hated on me too. In my clubbing days, I was once at a black nightclub and a man sitting next to me - out of the blue, without saying as much of a hello said “What are you doing here? You light, bright, and damn near white.” The insults use to be really hurtful, and even now it gets frustrating constantly having to defend myself. But I realize it is society that makes some believe that lighter skin is better, in turn making them hate their own darker skin. More frustrating is the belief that my life is somehow easier because I’m light-skinned or “high-yellow,” because nothing could be farther from the truth.

Fortunately, all my experiences have not been all bad. I have met many beautiful black sisters and brothers who are completely accepting of my white skin, and treat me with love, and respect me as a fellow sister. And black men for the most part, love and accept me, but usually are taken aback when they discover my pride in being black. Some appreciate it, some don’t. Either way, I’m going to keep on being who I am because I refuse to give into any kind of hatred from whites or blacks. Because it is my mission in life to educate - not to hate.