I remember a question posed to me at some point during my teens. The question was " If we had a Black President would that mean that we were free at last" I actually never gave much thought to that because -That would never happen in America. Well clearly and thankfully I was wrong. "Free at last?"-I think that we need to do a little more work in that department. We have traveled much further than my 85 year old stepfather would have ever thought possible. He was an airplane mechanic during WWII who had to teach the White kids under him everything that he knew -knowing that they would be his superiors in no time flat, He loves to talk about how proud he was of The Tuskegee Airmen and their superhero status for men like him. He sat on the backs of those buses in the South, averted his eyes to avoid eye contact, worked hard and watched less capable Whites get all the money and the glory. He raised a family to productive adulthood years before he met and married my mother (He is 20 something years older than her). He helped my mother and my sisters with my nieces without a complaint. I think about this question of "free at last" as it relates to all of the ancestors, older relatives, friends, and strangers who actually survived and accomplished a life during heavy Jim Crow and de facto Northern segregation - never mind slavery , reconstruction, and the great migration. If there is a question to be asked by those who both survived and triumphed in my opinion it would be" Have we overcome?" "Are we post racial?" If we are, where do we go from here? We have what was once thought impossible as our new reality If our child of the dream president doesn't live up to the expectations of so many, does it mean that we have all failed? If he triumphs is that a triumph for us all?
[IF]
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
--Rudyard Kipling
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