By Em Powers Hunter
It was Saturday but not just any Saturday. It was the day of the Women's March on Washington. I wanted to be there.
I've been taking baby steps to becoming an activist so I thought I should have been there but then I remembered that my writing is also activism. Activism, at its heart, is "taking action."
One of the ways to take action is to take back our thoughts. I don't know how to fully explain it but I realize that this election cycle and now this new President has been dominating my thoughts and not in a good way. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Philippians 4:8 which says, "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."
In that vein, I decided to think on some good things and write President Obama before he left office. I spent a long time reflecting and writing a letter and on January 19th when I tried to send it via the White House website, it wouldn't go through.
Okay, I've never said I wasn't a procrastinator. It was, after all, the last possible day to write him.
So I will share it here as an "open" letter to Mr. Obama:
Dear President Obama,
I "met" you in July of 2004. I was at home when my husband excitedly called me into the living room. He said, "You have to watch this!" It was you speaking at the DNC. In those days, we didn't have a DVR to record it and I didn't get to hear your whole speech but the part I heard floored me. We knew we were hearing greatness. A few days later, my husband Sean found a recording of the whole speech and I was able to listen to it in full.
I had the same reaction the second time. I was overcome by so many emotions. I was born in 1968 and I had only read about leaders that changed our country. As I grew up, nothing had captured my attention like your speech except Martin Luther King's speech, "I Have a Dream." But there you were, on a recording with such eloquence, intelligence, passion, and yes, sincerity.
That night my husband and I both looked at each other. We knew without being able to articulate it exactly that you would be the first leader in our lifetime that would impact America in a way that would go down in the history books. We were also moved by your words and how your speech was written and delivered because we are both writers. (I write for newspapers and he writes for companies.)
Fast forward a few months. I had just taken my first teaching job at an inner-city school in Florida. I was in my 30's and had children and had other careers but here I was a stranger in a foreign land. The obvious part was that I was a petite, very Irish-looking white woman and that I was one of about 4 white adults in the whole school.
When I was first offered the job, I didn't want to take it. It was in one of the worst schools in our city and it was in a dangerous neighborhood. When I walked into my interview, I felt out of place. I was dressed differently and spoke differently but they offered me the job. I had prayed for God to lead me to live out a true mission, to bring light to the darkness. That sounded so good until I was standing in the depressing, run-down school with broken windows with kids yelling at each other and cursing each other out around me. But I kept hearing this bible school song about being in the Lord's army. I dismissed that song running through my head until I found out the school mascot: they were the "soldiers." So I signed on.
A few months later, my father passed away. My husband flew back from a business trip to drive me and the kids to the funeral. In the airport, he bought your book, Dreams from My Father. He didn't know how to comfort me and thought the book would help.
And it did. I loved reading about your life journey and how this need to know of your father and heritage influenced you. In a strange way, I felt a kinship as my father was older when I was born and early in my childhood, my parents divorced. I only saw my father once a month when he would drive hours for a day visit. By the time I was ready to ask my father all the questions I had, my father had slipped into Alzheimer’s. I too longed to know more.
I was also struck by the power of your writing, your intellect, your heart. I wondered aloud how one person could have all those qualities.
Back at the inner-city school, it was a rough ride. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. I was a naive, Pollyanna type even in my 30's and I was surrounded by middle school students 3-5 years behind in reading levels who had been in and out of juvenile detention and already carried the emotional scars of poverty, neglect, or abuse. A few had been shot or charged with serious crimes. Many towered above me in height and anger. While there were many wonderful students, it still felt like a war zone.
So I threw the textbook in a closet and made up my own curriculum. I used poems, newspapers, songs, and more to try and reach my students. One day, I used your DNC speech. I took a CD in that my husband had made for me and and I played it for my students and they listened, really listened. I felt like I was giving them a gift--your incredible oration but more importantly, hope. My theme that year was "Powerful Voices."
It was an amazing three years. I grew to love those kids and they responded in a way that I have never experienced again in education. They were so fierce, so spirited, so loyal. In my first year, many of the black teachers would not talk to me but the students always did and would give me advice and had my back. I learned so much and together we celebrated our learning and our powerful voices.
I won't lie. Some days, it was so hard that I had to hold back the tears. On my planning period, I would play part of Martin Luther King's speeches for myself and carry on. My favorite was an excerpt from "The Drum Major Instinct.” Other times, I would peek back at your book and remember what you wrote about your community organizing days and I was a little stronger. Some days, the dark cloud that seemed to hang over the school threatened to overcome me but there were also days of victory and joy. I carried those intense experiences to every school I have taught at since then. Somehow I ended up at predominantly minority schools. (Latino, Native American, international students)
My husband and I soon found out that we were right. You appeared on the national scene and we followed your campaign. I remember where I was when I read your speech on race in March of 2008. Again, I marvelled at your ability to speak so powerfully about difficult subjects with grace, honesty, and incisive intelligence. Our admiration and respect for you continued to grow. Of course, we voted for you but it was an odd time for us. We had just moved to a very conservative, isolated town in the California desert and when I talked about you, I was mocked and ridiculed and quite frankly, intimidated by the small town's ignorance and hatred.
So what did I do? I had students debate and vote in class in a mock election. I got to watch the real thinkers in the room quietly walk to the "Obama side." What a lesson for the adult who was intimidated. These kids had courage in this fiercely hostile school. I almost cried when my 13-year-old, already targeted as the new kid in the school, walked with confidence to the Obama side.
When you won, we celebrated, knowing it was a great moment in history and thrilled we were seeing it in our lifetime. I watched as a tall, African American boy (the only one in 8th grade) walked into my class with a t-shirt he had designed announcing your victory. It was a joyful moment, even as the local conservative newspaper spewed out a nasty headline.
Although some have forgotten what our country went through, I have never forgotten the fear and anxiety of that time as you came into office. In California, the economic tremors were intense and I was laid off for the first time as a teacher. We had no resources and the future looked bleak. The television was blaring frightening news and we wondered how we would survive. We couldn't stay in a dead-end desert town with no jobs and no prospects.
Still, having you as our President gave us hope. We didn't know exactly how it was going to work out but your presidency gave us a faith that we could make it.
I prayed for you and your family as you entered the White House. I feared for your future and your family's future and prayed with all my heart that God would protect you and your family and bless you with wisdom and strength.
It's funny. I was born in the South and grew up with many racist, uneducated people and it burned my spirit and angered me but I was a quiet, anxious girl, afraid to say anything. My dad was educated but not exactly a civil rights hero. He was a product of his Southern roots. All my life, I had been drawn to Martin Luther King and the stories of the civil rights movement and when I worked at the inner-city school and then saw you elected, I really thought our country had evolved. I guess it has but events in the last few years have opened my eyes to all the hatred that still exists. But I hold onto your words that it is not a straight path...two steps forward and one back, right?
A few years later, I ended up at a Native American school and was confused by the mixed messages and conflict between education, heritage, enlightenment, and deep racism and hate that was buried beneath the surface. Once again, I was the light-skinned teacher who was different. Once again, I "brought" you into my classroom. I played your speech at Selma. You spoke to my students in a way that I never could have. It was actually a tougher crowd than the inner-city school. I left discouraged after one year and in an odd turn of events, your wife later gave the commencement speech at that school.
I have watched you lead our country to better places economically and with healthcare and globally, through dark and challenging times but most importantly, you have led our country with grace, courage, intelligence, empathy, and humor. You have borne unbelievable burdens and never shirked from the duties of your office.
I watched you grieve with the many family members who lost loved ones to gun violence. I cried as you spoke and shed tears for the unspeakable tragedies. I was struck by your empathy and kindness. Somehow, it gave me strength.
I have been so proud to have you as President. More importantly, my husband and I have been so proud to point to you and your example as we raised our four boys. We have watched your speeches and television appearances together and cheered you on.
Now, we are speechless and devastated with the recent turn of events.
Once again, as in 2009, when all seemed disastrous and uncertain and our country seemed on the economic brink, we wait with bated breath for what the future will bring. My faith has been shaken to the core at Trump being elected. But I watched your farewell speech the other night and I wrote notes down. It's a habit I can't shake. Perpetual student, writer.
I felt a little odd about taking notes but I thought I had to take it all in. Later, I searched through your words for ones that I could hold onto in the days ahead. Somehow, maybe there would be some words I could use in these dark days. You talked about the "power of faith and ordinary people." You told us...you told me to be "vigilant but not afraid." And I will go back to your speech in the days ahead just as I have used your other speeches and words along my life journey.
That you are a man of faith and spoke Scripture in your speeches with confidence and sincerity always resonated with me as a Christian on my own journey. It wasn't cliche. It was real and pierced through the difficult events and days.
So like most who write you, I anticipate that you may never read this letter but I thought it was important to write it and to thank you for your service, your words, your example. As a writer and an educator, I know the power of words, even as I struggle to find the right words for you. In the end, I decided to just write from my heart.
I will end this letter with a dream. Right now, I am teaching my students about Langston Hughes's poems about dreams. I told my students to heed Hughes and "hold fast to dreams." One of my dreams is to meet you and Michelle one day. Heck, maybe one day I will get to talk to you and interview you and write about how you are leading our country in new ways.
As I close, I am remembering one of my favorite poems and there is a part that made me think of you. It is from "Frederick Douglass" by Robert Hayden. If you don't recall it, you should look it up (teacher in me) but this part is for you:
"...this man/shall be remembered. Oh, not with statues' rhetoric./not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone,/but with the lives grown out of his life, the lives/fleshing his dream of the beautiful, needful thing."
In my rather lengthy letter (I did wait 12 years to write), I have shared my journey but it is a journey that you helped guide me on and inspired me and the "lives grown out of your life"...my children, my family, my students.
Thank you. God bless you.
And if you ever visit New Mexico, drop me a note and we will show you and Michelle around. (Holding fast to my dream :-)
With great affection and deep respect,
Em Powers Hunter