The day that John Edwards resigned I was so sad that my chest ached. I liked his positions, his message, and the "son-of-a-mill-worker" mission. His speech from NO was really moving. A few days later, during the first Obama/Clinton debate, I saw something that made me admire him even more. Hill and Barack were falling all over themselves to convince the 15% of us who were Edwards Dems that they were the ones who would carry the Edwards message into the white house. They were the champion of the poor, the one least controlled by lobbyists, and even better, they both were grown ups that night. What I saw was that Edwards got his message across by personally getting out of the way. He wasn't the most compelling spokesperson. He wasn't in the right place at the right time. So he gave his message to those who could carry his torch.
It was also the first time I allowed myself to fully consider the impact of Obama. I haven't wanted to look at him. I am too much like him and I can't get around how much that unnerves me. We are both biracial. We both have a cut off from part of our heritage; he with his Kenyan father and African relatives. Me with my Irish mother's parents whom I've never met. I've actually seen them up close and they didn't even speak to me. I was 10.
And I wonder if what drives and compells me also drives and compells this sultry and alluring man. You just want to heal this battered woman of a country we call America. For biracials, you can't sink back into your personal history without splitting yourself in two. Without some paradox of self loathing.
Change We Can Believe In.
I want to believe it, and I'm afraid that if I let belief in and then wake up to find another old white warmeister in the white house, that it will be crushing. But what the hey. It's better to have a few months of hope than a whole lifetime of resignation.