It is on my mind tonight, when I’ve spent a Saturday doing work-work, and a Sunday doing home-work/Make.Do. work. This made me happy/sad/hopeful and motivated.
And I know there are people whom I like and love who will see this and get in their feels about her being happy about having a black president. Please don’t post stupid comments about this right now, because it is literally all I can do to get up and out in the morning, and I need to not know your truth if you’re an asshole.
She was born in 1910, 153 years after slavery “ended”, and only 48 years after she could (ostensibly) eat at a lunch counter (great, thanks), and MAYBE vote, depending on where she lived.
I have to imagine that one of the reasons she’s stayed alive this long was that the gods old and new felt it important for her to get to the day when she could share with the rest of us how all the things she was told about her worth were wrong, how all the blows they struck trying to beat hope and promise of her — and how their aim was likely true for her parents who were in the fray fighting for her place in the world when it meant taking their lives in their hands — and how each and every hope, prayer, good wish and uplifting thought that those around her in the same shit held up for her and us came to bring her to the White House (the irony of the name isn’t lost here) to see her black president. #February