I am a 45 year-old black woman of Caribbean descent. A resident of the USA for the last 6 years, I have yet to apply for my citizenship and was unable to vote for our new President. Nevertheless, I fervently supported him throughout this campaign. I sent in small donations, convinced others to vote for him, refuted lies about him online and off, even looked into his eyes and shook his hand as I told him personally that I surrounded him with prayers everyday and night as he campaigned. In essence I put my all into his campaign from a distance and when he won on November 4th, 2008 I shook with unbridled pride, joy and glee (tears spewing) as he gave his acceptance speech at Grant Park. I could not vote for him because of my status in this country but I feel I still had a hand in his ascent and the glow of that moment sits within me everyday as another day dawns and another one falls to dusk.
So, how did I decide that he (is) my husband?
Simple.
Barack Obama has been in my life for the past 10 years. I lay next to him every night, I gave birth to his child and I promised him to be here in sickness and in health. We have quarrels like everyone else, experience joy and sorrow as well; we swell with pride at our 9 year-olds achievements; we have private conversations about things we dislike and like in other people; we laugh and cry together; we share our finances and childcare; we stand as a united front against the world. We are political junkies and share a deep interest in current events and contemporary culture; we love and feel loved in our lives.
The Barack Obama who is my husband is a 40 year-old black man who grew up in an all white neighborhood in the North Eastern part of this country. He was raised to believe in himself and in his inherent power to do better. My husband fought against racism and classism in his life from very early but being an achiever and a doer he never let it shape his identity.
My husband was an honor student who graduated at the top of his class. He went to one of the top colleges in the North East and graduated in the 90s. When he graduated he stepped right into a recession. Coming from middleclass black family he had to face the hardship of those times head on. Instead of going to Wall Street like caucasian kids in his class, who were able to garner 6 figure salaries right out of the box, he ended up in a factory binding books and working for low wages. His diploma was left behind after graduation since he could not afford to pay off his last bills. He worked in the factory paying his final school bills bit by bit until one of his big toes was crushed in a freak accident on the factory floor. Finally, he had enough money to pay off his school bills and to recieve the piece of paper from his college that showed he was a true graduate of an Ivy League.
When he recovered from the accident (still living at home) he found a job in Insurance. My husband worked his way up becoming a valued analyst in an industry he had never dreamed of entering. Years after rocketing to a position with a pay that allowed him to live the life he always wanted, he was diagnosed with skin cancer. He fell sick on an off site assignment and returned home. The cancer had grown out on his back and protruded from his shirt. When he finally went to the doctor he was admitted immediately and operated on shortly afterwards. He almost lost his life because of poor a anesthesia application and blood in his lungs.
My husband returned home to recover. He had a huge hole in his back and required the care of a nurse. He could only lie on his stomach. Instead of accepting Kemo he went for 10 days of radiation therapy. Everyday, after his treatments he threw up and was sick but he never gave up. Instead of feeling sorry for himself (since he only had his family and one friend to see him through and most avoided him) he decided to fight his way back.
His love for mountain bikes inspired him to build a bike of his own from scratch as he recovered. Everyday the parts came in the mail and as they came in he put them together. Day by day as the bike took shape he regained his strength. By the time his bike was done he was healed. He got on his bike and rode it on a mountain in Vermont throwing up all the way. He healed himself through pain on all levels.
My husband decided after his illness that he was going to live his life. He bought himself a family car for a future family; he went back to work with renewed focus; he wrote and read poetry; he dated and looked for that special person. One year later he met me: his soul-mate.
We met through his mom. I invited him to a halloween party. He came as bill Clinton and I went as an exotic character I created who wore a mask made from colorful peacock feathers. Since we had only talked on the phone he had never seen my face. He did not see my face until the next day when we went out on our first date. However, I saw his when he took off his mask at the party. Our first date became our life together. We never left each other's side. We found an affinity through our pain he from his cancer mine from a loved one's death from AIDS. In less than a year we were married and pregnant and on our way to a future unknown while still getting to know each other.
Ten years later we are still together. We have a good life and have stood by each other through thick and thin. Everyday we look at our daughter and see evidence of our love, our pride, our joy and our life.
I say that Barack Obama (is) my husaband because for a long time I could not understand why I felt this strong affinity to this man who did not even know me. But last night it came to me when I saw his interview on Barbara Walter's 10 most fascinating people.
My husband was amused by my infatuation with Barack Obama for a long time. He always asks me when am I going to get a life size cutout or a blowout Obama doll (which by the way is hard to find). Last night I looked at him and told him why I feel so much love for this man who is about to be our President.
I feel this love for Barack Obama because in him I see my husband. I see a black man who is descent, caring, loving, kind, generous, sensitive, kind. I see in Barack Obama my husband who is all of these things but is not recognized by society. I see in Barack Obama a black man my husband who is dedicated to our family, who, even as a cancer survivor, never complaints but goes out everyday to support my daughter and I allowing me to be a stay-at-home mom.
I see in Barack Obama my husband who is not a sterotypical black man with his pants down and underwear showing, not a rapper, not a sports figure or a music mogul. I see in Barack Obama,my husband, a black man who does not seek compliments or acknowledgements for what he does everyday to make our lives better but a man who is a fighter and a man who challenges himself everyday to not be perfect but to be true to his beliefs and to be better than who he is as each day passes. I see a black man with integrity who lives by a code of ethics that encourages goodness, hope and faith. I see in a black man who is spiritual and believes in the inherent power of the universe for good. I see a black man who is an example to the world of what is best in the black community and I wake up next to him everyday.
Isn't it awesome to now share this man with the world in the likeness of our next President?
So it is with pride I say today that Barack Obama (is) my husband and I am happy to share him with the world. I hope you treasure him as much as I do.
Peace and love.
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