Two times, overwhelmed by the standing ovation of the audience, Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States, takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the tears, never stop looking, straight in the eye, the woman of his life and the First Lady of the United States of America. In that deep gaze, that almost mutes the joy of the applause, they are telling, once again, a story.
The story of two young Americans: one, descendant of a slave and, the other, son of a mixed couple, raised by a single mom, who met in Chicago and fell in love watching a Spike Lee’s movie. An ordinary couple, with a mortgage, a college loan to repay, two kids to raise in South Chicago and a brown skin that meant yet plenty of limitations to most of the American dreams. Included the White House.
An ordinary couple, for this outstanding. Like the time when a young Senator Obama, proudly called home to tell his wife about a bill he had cosponsored to restrict black-market arms sales, Michelle’s response was simple: “We have ants in the kitchen. And the bathroom upstairs. I need you to buy some ant traps on your way home tomorrow. I’d get them myself, but I have got to take the girls to their doctor’s appointment after school”. “I hung up the receiver - writes Obama in his book, “The audacity of hope” - wondering if Ted Kennedy or John McCain bought ant traps on the way home from work.”
If I should to sum the greatness of Barack Obama, the strenght of his presidency, the vision of his government, I would pick that minute of silent gazes: that story that they were telling us, while our eyes were getting wet with tears, for a farewell that is really hard to digest. Because in that story, in that moving tale, we could find ourselves, our lives, our struggles and our hopes, our downs and our highs.
We, the people. As Obama mentioned many times during his speech. We, the people, who needed health care, human rights, peace, diplomacy, dignity, first and foremost. We, the people, who needed to hope more than we needed to dream; to believe more than to imagine, to feel useful more than to wait for answers. We, the people, today we feel as we have lost some dear friends who we trusted, shoulders where we could lean on.
We feel as we have lost our best part and we know that in few days we will be forced to face our worst part, with the darkness that comes from being selfish, unable to be empathetic and to stand against bullies and violents. And with a scary lack of hope.
President Obama’s farewell speech was, as very often, just perfect. We will have to read it again and again and learn it by heart, to feel ready to accept his call to action, his reference to the role of citizen, his invitation to be part of our democracy.
“Our Constitution - said Mr. Obama - is a remarkable, beautiful gift. But it’s really just a piece of parchment. It has no power on its own. We, the people, give it power, with our participation, and the choices we make. Whether or not we stand up for our freedoms. Whether or not we respect and enforce the rule of law. America is no fragile thing. But the gains of our long journey to freedom are not assured”
And it is now, when it is more and more difficult to accept this transition, that those words have to become our motto, a sting for our soul, an imperative for our dignity as citizen. Be part of. Roll up our sleeves. Without listening those who are cynical, those who lost hope and just sit and pick on others. The world, the better world we see, will not come from them. But from us.
Only the cynicism makes us truly blind, preventing us from seeing that unique line that goes from Rosa Parks, to Malcom X, to Martin Luther King and to Malia Obama and to her tears, to her future. To our own.