AmoXcalli

I woke up to a day of contrasts.  Wildly ecstatically happy that Barack Obama is President-Elect and despairing that Proposition 8, the ban on Gay Marriage passed.  That Los Angeles, my city passed it cuts to the quick.  That Latinos helped and voted yes cuts me even deeper.  We fell short and I blame myself for a part of it.

I could have done more.  I wrote two posts and I was vocal but I should have been standing outside of churches, speaking about why it is wrong.  I should have gone door to door every day for at least an hour.  I don’t know that I would have made a difference but at least I would have planted seeds of tolerance and understanding.  I failed at that and I’m ashamed.

I was watching the election results last night with my family.  My Filipino daughter in law that can’t vote and wants to desperately but is still taking her citizenship classes, my Mexican-Irish-Jewish-Filipino grandkids and my son all watched together.  When Charlie Gibson said that Barack Obama was President-Elect our house exploded with screams of joy.  I was stunned.  Stunned.  I hoped but didn’t really think it would happen.  I saw Pennsylvania go to Obama and then Ohio and that light of hope got a little brighter but still, I was completely floored at the announcement.  I sat there and just cried and cried.

All my life, I’ve been protesting and giving up my time to be out there marching but with every year that passed, it took its toll.  When I interviewed my personal hero Ana Castillo, we talked about being discouraged and steeling ourselves to go on, keep it up, be out there, not to let it get to us and that helped me find more strength to carry on and keep going, but it’s been hard.  Hard to see us doing any good, hard to see the changes.

Deep inside, I never thought my vote counted.  I never felt like an American.  I am third generation born in this country and I’ve always considered myself Mexican or Chicana.  I watched Whoopi Goldberg this morning and she said something profoundly moving to me because it echoed what I felt.  She said that she finally felt that she could put her suitcase down.  Yeah, it’s like that now.  I can feel a part of this country.  I can feel American because with Barack Obama’s astounding campaign and election, he’s shown me, the American people have shown me that votes do count, that we CAN make a difference, that the world is changing and we have that ability to change it more.

I never thought or believed that my sons or daughter could be a President here.  There were always limitations.  I believe it now.  I looked at my sleeping five-year-old granddaughter who loves politics and Obama, who only woke up to say, “Did my favorite one Obama win yet Grammy?” and it hit me that she could be a President of this country.  That’s when the tears started, that’s when belief set in.  That’s when I became an American.

I woke up and found Prop 8 had passed, and it robbed me of a lot of my joy.  I bitched and complained for a few minutes, but now I am resolute.  I will work my ass off to change it, I’ll get everyone I know fighting with me.  We can make a difference.  I am re-charged, renewed, re-energized and above all hopeful.  We live in a new country and hope is the word.

Mexica Tiahui (which means people move forward, gente adelante)

Trackback URI | Comments RSS