Rebirth of A Nation

I woke up early, feeling good. How long has it been since anyone of us have truly been able to say that. As I drank my mug of coffee and smoked my cigarette, I felt motivated. I clicked on the New York Daily News and gazed at pictures from yesterday. Yesterday. It was more than a historic day that transformed our world and lives. It was more than a day that ushered out the, and brought in the new. It was a rebirth.
I spoke with my dad on the phone after the inauguration, who said that he'll never forget the fat white women that told him he could not eat with his Navy buddies at the same table in a restaurant. He said he'll never forget his grandmother telling him as child, when you walk in town, make sure you step off the curb when white people pass you by. He said he'll always remember the two red necked crew men on board his ship that tried to hang a colored sailor below deck, and how he fought them both to help a fellow naval crew man.
He said he looked back at his time served in Iraq during the first Gulf War, and was proud that he lead young men, and served his country. He said that there were times that he was not sure he would get home to see my mother, my sisters, my brother, me. But he did.
My father has always been a patriot in the truest definition of the word. He has always believed in "fighting the good fight". He has always longed to be Clint Eastwood in "The Big Red One" or Henry Fonda in "Tora,Tora,Tora". (you HAD to watch these movies growing up in my house) But there was always something that would not grant his request validity. He was a black man. He was colored. He was a Negro.
Because of these labels, he was always never good enough to be patriotic. He had no right in the eyes of many to feel that sense of spirit for his country.
I thought of my birth mother always telling me as a child, "you were born Black, so that means you have two strikes against you already." I thought of how she placed me in private schools and worked two jobs to ensure that I would not be just another nigger on the street. How she would go out of her way to cultivate my sense of knowledge of things more far reaching then what you can only see in the hood. How she yearned for me to have the ambition to become a doctor, preacher, lawyer, or anything that was supposedly not for "us" to strive to become.
I thought of my own life. I thought of no matter what I did sometimes, whites would still view me as "one of those people". How no matter how much I showed intellect, I would still be seen as "not as smart". How no matter that I am able to remember the Pythagorean Theorem or Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven", I had no right to be cultured to anything other than break dancing or basketball. How even to this day, including hours after our 44th president was sworn in, I would still get awkward "he doesn't belong here looks" at my supermarket out in West Hampton L.I.
But I must say that today I feel ambitious. Today I feel unstoppable. Today, Lincoln was MY president too. Today I feel relentlessly optimistic. Today, I finally feel that I am truly American. Thanks Obama. I owe you more than just one.