Mile High(lights)

For We Worked For This New Era, Equally

I do not wish to bow my head in the cold air
I do not believe in a clasping of hands
Were the hands nearest and warmest
In conjunction with my own
To be deemed by the speaker a sin
This clasping
No

I worked for this new era, equally
It was born of all of our dreams and late nights
Early mornings in cold or heat
I worked for this new era, equally

The channeling of voice to the power of my God is encompassing
She accepts many
Their flaws
More than most

My God and I will be side-barring that morning
Come the 20th, be it snow, sleet or still
We bow our heads
The man speaking
He who sees this clasping of hands, a sin
No
He will not channel for me my God
She and I will be speaking
Praying for him, praying for all of us
Over the heads of the millions bowed in that moment
Surrounding us
The millions upon millions around TV screens and radios around the world
His voice, up on that platform, and his version of a judgmental God, are not more powerful
Than my lone head bowed
Than the hands clasped warm of whomever is nearest me
And on that particular morning, may you bet they be gay as well
We too own this moment
No

I will bow my head to my own God, that morning
I will pray in this new season
We worked for this new era, equally
We demand this new era bring equality
No man on a platform with a false definition of sin can stop justice’s arc
May history judge us all kind
I will bow my head to my own God, that morning

Meeting Michelle/Continuing That Which Is Improbable

On the field of Invesco I met a number of interesting people, some already notable, others not known at all.  As previously mentioned, the roped off, Secret Service covered area around the stage was a mix of political VIPs, news media VIPS, selected activists and five dollar first time donors to the campaign.  A fitting and lively mix.

A few moments before the round of speeches which led to when Obama’s speech began, Michelle and the girls came out to sit in the front row I was also sitting in.  As those in the area must have been vetted and cleared to various degrees, everyone just wandered around interacting with everyone else, and so many went to go greet Michelle.

On my first attempt, Secret Service told people that she needed a moment with the Bidens, and then stated that she didn’t want pictures taken.

When I finally did walk up to her, a circle of women supporters had gathered around her.  They were chattering about nothing in particular, and then one woman leaned in and whispered, “Your teeth.”  No one quiet understood her, so she leaned in again and whispered, “Your teeth.  You have lipstick on your teeth.”  With the women circling Michelle and the cameras all over, she fixed her lipstick and the women all said that we must look out for one another and chatted and laughed.

After that circle departed, a woman in front of me went up to hug Michelle, and then just broke down sobbing.  She was a middle-aged black woman, and kept saying how she couldn’t believe the night was actually happening.  Michelle comforted her and told her that she had been crying all night the night before, and that we all had to save some tears for Barack’s speech.  The woman continued sobbing for some time.

As this woman departed, I walked up to Michelle, whom I had never before met.  I said hello and thanked her for being a role model.  I told her that I had watched her speech on Monday night, up in the nose bleed section of the convention hall, sitting with my dear friend, and we couldn’t stop crying.  I told Michelle that I had written about the experience, and was trying to work into the public lexicon the term “girl from the South Side of Chicago,” to describe all of us from poverty who somehow made something brilliant out of our lives of challenge.  I mentioned having been homeless and then going to Harvard, and feeling like she was the first mainstream political role model who I could identify with in that duality.

At some point in all of this, Michelle had grasped both my hands and was holding them up between us.  I’m sure there still must have been a circle of cameras surrounding us, although, with Michelle’s intense hold on my eye contact, I no longer noticed.  She started telling me what the experience had been like for her, and the challenges inherent in it.  We talked about how there is a sisterhood of women like us, even if it’s not easy to see or remember that in our day to day experiences.  Somehow out of my mouth came the promise that I would be praying for her.  I don’t tend to tell people that, but it just felt like what should be said, and it now feels like what should be done.  I told her that we all were watching her and were with her, even if not literally always at her side during on campaign trail.  We continued on with this conversation for a while, and then I returned to my seat as Secret Service had her sit down and the speeches began.

After Obama spoke, Michelle and the girls joined him on the stage, as did the Biden family.  As they walked about, and the music played, and the fireworks went off, and the confetti fell, I cannot describe to you the overwhelming sensation of joy, potential, apprehension and history that was just jumping about.  As if I couldn’t feel any more like I was walking on air, as the Obama family turned to walk off the stage, Michelle paused, looked down at me, pointed, and then blew a kiss.  I totally started crying again.  Maybe I had never fully stopped.  I’m not certain; the overwhelming nature of it all makes it a bit hazy.

And so, somehow, on the night of the most important speech given during my lifetime, I was somehow selected to be in the front row.  And before an improbable Presidential candidate rose to accept the Democratic Party’s nomination, his wife and I first clasped hands and spoke of our shared improbable stories, and all the sensations we felt with living through such a night.

I still cannot tell you just how amazed, awed and overjoyed I am at the whole experience.  Although we’re now at, what?, 65 days and counting until the election.  So, despite the awed and amazed state, it’s back to work!

But first, the closing paragraph I wrote after hearing Michelle’s speech on Monday, before meeting her and getting to tell her as much so on Thursday, before Barack’s speech:

And, yes, this is a cheesy personal sentiment to share with you all.  But it was a highlight of my experience today.  And it reminds me of why this all goes beyond politics right now.  The tides are changing in ways beyond just all of what is obvious in this election.  I’m always going to pull for the girl from the South Side of Chicago, or from the outskirts of Vegas, or the dirt of the Mojave, who has somehow found her way onto a stage in front of millions, or just into a life that she loves and can use to make a difference.  Tonight was a night for such girls, those of us who have lives that we celebrate, and all those little ones still dreaming of who they will become.   Hate me for the sentiment, I’ll give you some snark in exchange later.

I take it back.  I have absolutely no snark to add on the topic.  There doesn’t need to be any.