I got the idea for this post from the beautiful and wise City Mama. "Thanks, my dear. If your daughters grow up to be half the woman you are they will be lucky indeed. - LM."
Dear Hollis & Holden,
Tomorrow is November 4, 2008. That date doesn't mean much to you now, but I'm hoping that someday it will. You'll learn the date that the United States elected the John F. Kennedy of my generation.
It's hard for me to explain to you both, at 3 and 4, just what this election means to me. All you know right now is that Mommy hasn't been home a lot and you wish I could put you to bed more often.
You see, once upon a time I was young and idealistic. I wanted to help people and change the world. But then I discovered that putting yourself out there can hurt, really hurt, when you fail. I became an arm chair activist, donating money instead of my time, and talking and writing about social justice instead of taking action.
Then I had the two of you.
You see, voting isn't just about me and who I'll get to rant about for the next four years. Now, my vote is about your future. I want the world you live in to be free from racism and hate. I want our country and our leaders to take the issue of poverty seriously and to listen to the people they govern.
It's not that I won't be able to give you the world. You two are incredibly lucky. You were born white, to two educated, professional parents. We may tend to hover a bit, but we'll do whatever we have to do to make sure you get the best education and the best opportunities in life.
So why do I care so much? Because I want every other child in this country to have that as well.
When I became your mother, I became A Mother. When I see a child without a coat on in 30 degree weather I shiver for him and look around for a coat, just like his mother would. When I hear about a child harmed I cry the tears her mother will. When I learn that 14,000,000 children in this country don't have health insurance, I get pissed off and I want to change that, just like those 14,000,000 mothers do.
I hope to teach both of you that we are all inextricably intertwined as human beings and Americans. We can't turn our heads and pretend we don't see the problems of others. I don't want you to grow up making excuses for your privilege and the poverty of others, attempting to justify a system of haves and have-nots.
You may work hard as a soldier or lawyer or accountant, but so do our trash collectors and our teachers and yes, even our plumbers. Yes, you will encounter people who don't work as hard as you, who can't hold a job, who have too many children and not enough money. But I want both of you to realize that you are no more entitled to the necessities of life than they are. You've just been very, very lucky through happy accident of birth.
Barack Obama, more than any public servant of my life time, seems to understand this and all that I want you to learn.
I didn't start out as a Barack Obama supporter. But as I've researched his policies, spoken with his wife, his vice presidential pick, and too many surrogates to name, I've become convinced that he is the perfect man to unite our divided country. And so, because I want to change our country, I got involved in a political campaign for the first time in my life.
It's not just me either. There are so many mothers and fathers and grandparents and students and first time voters getting involved. They, like me, see something in Barack Obama that is different, that stands for hope and the promise of better things to come. I haven't seen people united in such a cause since the days after 9/11, and that ended quickly enough. This time, I'm hopeful that people will stay involved. I'm hopeful that people will see that they can make a difference and that they did make a difference.
I'm hopeful that people will keep getting involved and keep trying to change the world and keep fighting for justice for all the other people that inhabit this country, this world, this third rock from the sun.
In what I believe will be one of history's most remembered speeches, Barack Obama reminded us all that we have to fight not for ourselves, but for others. He shared a story of a campaign organizer named Ashley, sharing why she'd gotten involved - because of what her mother had gone through when she got cancer and lost her insurance and her ability to support her family:
Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and
asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have
different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And
finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there
quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he
does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the
economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he
was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the
room, "I am here because of Ashley."
"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of
recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not
enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to
the jobless, or education to our children.
But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And
as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the
two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that
document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.
It isn't enough for me to just feed and clothe and take care of the two of you, my boys. It may not be enough for me to vote, knock on doors, do interviews, write articles, and make phone calls to get Barack Obama elected. But it is where I, and so many others, start. We're doing it for you and all the other people in this country because "that is where the perfection begins."
Yes. Yes, we can.
Love,
Mommy
Photo by Heidi Kulberg. (That's Hollis on the right.)
