"Reactions to the Election"

Rehka Basu with the Des Moines Register and Eugune Robinson with the Washington Post both had columns in the Des Moines Register today.

Basu: "Wave of hope lifts spirits, flags around the world"
I've never been a flag-flier, though I've had citizenship in two different countries. I know that people have valid and admirable reasons for flying the flag, but it felt somehow immodest to me, like a public display of affection, or a boast of "Mine is better than yours." Maybe if we had a world flag, it would have come easier.But on two occasions, I've felt tempted to hoist the U.S. one - after Sept. 11, 2001, out of solidarity with a wounded America, and since Tuesday, out of pride.

An overwhelming, unsquelchable pride began to well up listening to Barack Obama's glorious acceptance speech and seeing the throngs of joyful, tear-streaked faces on TV, and it has hardly let up since. John McCain, in a gracious concession speech, called it a day of special pride for African-Americans. But really, it belongs to every American. Just as it took men to give women the right to vote, and a white president to sign the emancipation proclamation, it took people of every demographic to look past race and vote for change.
But tearing down that racial barrier is only one part of what makes this election so transformative. There are so many victories wrapped up in one. There's the triumph of intelligent discourse and inquiry over blind adherence to some doctrine. Let's hope now we can rebuild a culture in which a good education is not denounced as elitist but applauded and aspired to for everyone.

This is also a win for our relationship with the world. (to read the rest of the article, click here or I have posted it in full in the comments of this post).


Robinson, "Morning in America"
I almost lost it Tuesday night when television cameras found the Rev. Jesse Jackson in the crowd at Chicago's Grant Park and I saw the tears streaming down his face. His brio and bluster were gone, replaced by what looked like awestruck humility and unrestrained joy. I remembered how young he was in 1968 when he stood on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel with the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., moments before King was assassinated and hours before America's cities were set on fire.

I almost lost it again when I spoke with Rep. John Lewis (D-Ga.), one of the bravest leaders of the civil rights crusade, and asked whether he had ever dreamed he would live to see this day. As Lewis looked for words beyond "unimaginable," I thought of the beating he received on the Edmund Pettus Bridge and the scars his body still bears.

I did lose it, minutes before the television networks projected that Barack Obama would be the 44th president of the United States, when I called my parents in Orangeburg, S.C. I thought of the sacrifices they made and the struggles they endured so that my generation could climb higher. I felt so happy that they were here to savor this incredible moment.

I scraped myself back together, but then almost lost it again when I saw Obama standing there on the stage with his family -- wife Michelle, daughters Malia and Sasha, their outfits all color-coordinated in red and black. I thought of the mind-blowing imagery we will see when this young, beautiful black family becomes the nation's First Family.

Then, when Michelle's mother, brother and extended family came out, I thought about "the black family" as an institution -- how troubled it is, but also how resilient and how vital. And I found myself getting misty-eyed again when Barack and Michelle walked off the stage together, clinging to one another, partners about to embark on an adventure, full of possibility and peril, that will change this nation forever.

It's safe to say that I've never had such a deeply emotional reaction to a presidential election. I've found it hard to describe, though, just what it is that I'm feeling so strongly. (my emphasis, L.T.)
It's obvious that the power of this moment isn't something that only African Americans feel. When President Bush spoke about the election yesterday, he mentioned the important message that Americans will send to the world, and to themselves, when the Obama family moves into the White House.
For African Americans, though, this is personal.

I can't help but experience Obama's election as a gesture of recognition and acceptance -- which is patently absurd, if you think about it. The labor of black people made this great nation possible. Black people planted and tended the tobacco, indigo and cotton on which America's first great fortunes were built. Black people fought and died in every one of the nation's wars. Black people fought and died to secure our fundamental rights under the Constitution. We don't have to ask for anything from anybody.

Yet something changed on Tuesday when Americans -- white, black, Latino, Asian -- entrusted a black man with the power and responsibility of the presidency. I always meant it when I said the Pledge of Allegiance in school. I always meant it when I sang the national anthem at ball games and shot off fireworks on the Fourth of July. But now there's more meaning in my expressions of patriotism, because there's more meaning in the stirring ideals that the pledge and the anthem and the fireworks represent.
It's not that I would have felt less love of country if voters had chosen John McCain. And this reaction I'm trying to describe isn't really about Obama's policies. I'll disagree with some of his decisions, I'll consider some of his public statements mere double talk and I'll criticize his questionable appointments. My job will be to hold him accountable, just like any president, and I intend to do my job.

For me, the emotion of this moment has less to do with Obama than with the nation. Now I know how some people must have felt when they heard Ronald Reagan say "it's morning again in America." The new sunshine feels warm on my face.