Letter to the Editor

     I sit here early morning Election Day drinking coffee with my newly born daughter at my side. I watch Barack Obama on the television, the first black Presidential candidate, cast his ballot in his home town polling place.
     The news anchor is speaking of more than one-hundred years ago in 1860 when there were 400 million black people in this country, and all were slaves. I look down at my daughter and tears well up in my eyes. I feel so many emotions looking down at her.
     This is a historic day, her first presidential election, and how far this country has come to elect a black Presidential candidate. I feel a sense of peace and joy knowing that the world she will grow up in will be different than mine.
     My joy is cut short when I think about how many people just can’t accept this change, many in my own family. My 86-year-old grandmother, born and raised in the mountains of Allred, TN, has chosen not to vote for the first time in her life.
     She has never voted for a Republican, however, she can’t bring herself to vote for a black person. Another tear streams down my face, this time sadness for the Americans who can’t get past the color of Obama’s skin.
     I look again at my daughter, who is a quarter black and a quarter Persian bearing an Arabic last name, and wonder how she will be treated by her peers and their families? Will she fall in love with someone only to be rejected by his family?
     I must continue to do my part and accept differences in this world and humble myself in knowing that my way is not the only way. The world is lit by multi-cultural rainbows that are to be admired in awe, but inevitably will stir fear in some.
     
     

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