updated: Because we don’t get tv reception at home, at 10 p.m. Tuesday night, The Fella and I headed out to meet some friends at a neighborhood bar, have a few drinks, hoot in delight and relief, and watch history as it happened.
For almost a decade, I’ve felt an increasing sense of alienation from my fellow Americans. As our national narrative became ever more mired in fear and a willful disregard for reason, as education became a thing to sneer at, as the blindness of religious zealots became a point of pride in the highest reaches of our government — our government! — it became clear to me that I simply didn’t know these people. They lived in a different world than mine, they feared and valued different things than I do.
And I never thought they’d do this. I didn’t trust them; I didn’t trust us. I didn’t believe I would live to see a primary contested between a black man and a woman. I certainly didn’t think I’d live to see a black person elected President.
I know it’s early days yet, and there are challenges ahead. I know we’re still a jingoistic, frightened power. I know we overconsume and under-educate. I know. I know. I know.
But it’s something. It’s something huge. We, as a nation, did something sane, something wise, something historic. For the first time in years, I feel some sense of belonging here. This nation may be my home after all.