As I watch Colin Powell's interview on GMA's Inauguration 2013 coverage against the backdrop of a racially diverse choir singing, "this land is your land, this land is my land.....this land was made for you and me," I remember where I was at the first inauguration. I had just been released from the hospital. I had demanded it actually. You see, after a groove session with my then-boyfriend, my pelvis locked and I was in a great deal of pain. It had been a little over a year since my hysterectomy so I thought I was free and clear to assume a normal life. Obviously I wasn't.
I had been in the hospital for a couple of days, going through a battery of tests as the source of my pain could not be found. The doctors were baffled. I was miserable. Yet, I had the support of the smiling faces of my friends and couldn't help but laugh and be uplifted by them. I have to acknowledge the devotion of my sister, Meshelle Taylor, who with a soldier's heart wasn't going to let me be left behind. She stayed with me and questioned the doctors and nurses until I was moved to a private room at around 3 o'clock in the morning. I'll never forget that.
So here I was, propped up on pillows with my cell phone in one hand and my laptop on my lap. Having taken some pretty effective pain killers, I watched, cried, texted and sent out messages all day. So proud. So touched. So moved. Now, as I prepare for some girlfriends to come over to watch this second Inauguration with me, I'm even more moved. Despite a difficult first four years, where many who helped him get elected questioned whether he was the man for the job, we are about to witness THE man for the job being sworn in for a second time.
I think about Martin Luther King Day and the parallels. Many of us, I think, have forgotten that Dr. King was a polarizing figure. He wasn't welcomed. He was mocked. He was called a Communist. He was called a Socialist. He was called uppity and a troublemaker. He led many crowds, this is true, but there were also people of color that resented him for "stirring the pot." Things were bad, yes; but they were familiar and here he was messing with the system. There were those who felt he didn't need to do that. That he wouldn't be successful. There were those of his own race who said in their hearts that he was a problem. People who use to smile and nod at them were now crossing to the other side of the street. Their safety was threatened. Their children were being harassed. They were being fired from jobs because of this "troublemaker." So many parallels. Opposition from political giants, party fights and muscle flexing, egos gone wild. As if that wasn't enough, spending nights in jail, attacked by dogs, even a cross burned on his own front lawn and still he was clear on a nonviolent demonstration. To some, he was a punk. To other, she was a hero.
Change never comes without a cost. Our people have to learn that. You don't turn-coat when things get tough, you press in. I didn't elect President Obama as a Savior. I didn't elect him as a perfect man. I know in my heart, this is his time. This is his hour. This is his season. And like Martin, some things won't be celebrated until after his term is over.
And so, I salute President Obama today and his spirit guides Martin Luther King and Abraham Lincoln and those who have gone on before whose stories were never told. I am moved to live the dream in every decision I make and by choosing freedom amidst all who tell me I should chose otherwise.
