Archive for January, 2009

While there is blatant cause for celebration with the recent presidential changing of guards, there is an even greater need to know when it’s time to send the band packing.

Is it historical that someone other than a pasty old White man is the head of state? Unarguably. Is it phenomenal that America’s level of positivity and collective swell of patriotism is, dare I say, at an unprecedented high? Absolutely. Is it dope that the role the hip-hop generation played in this time of change was pivotal? No doubt. Is the sudden interest and political awareness across the country, hell, across the world, astounding? Emphatically. So on and so forth, change is good, Yes We Can, boo Bush, Michelle looks stunning, confetti, celebrities, a resounding At Laaaast. However, and without minimizing the importance of this event in any way, I say, it ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings, and Beyoncé may be thick but…

Time for the real. With past occurrences considered, our country’s ability to separate the perpetual dream from the necessary steps to that very one, realized, is questionable.

Dr. King dreamed a dream and was backed back then by dreamers alike. Droves marched and died for that dream. And when he was alive the urgency to spread that dream was strong. But when he diiiiiied, Alllll he left us was… A dream? Or was that all we kept of him? The sadness was justifiably overwhelming. Hearts broke. Heads hung low. Tears broadened into rivers of muffled cries. Yes, some continued on, but a huge part of the country that had dared to shout that dream from the mountaintops fell silent in valleys of defeat. So silent they were, that some just recently found their voices, this past Tuesday, when each recognized their own coming out of one man.

But this man, Obama, was awake.

So, what in the case of sleep, God-forbid the everlasting kind, overtaking him, this wide-awake dreamer? What when this man who awakened so many, rests? Does America the sleepy giant return to her slumber? As it were in the wake of King’s absence, shall it be?

The question becomes: how do we stop history from hiccuping without collectively holding our breaths and wishing it away or coating it with a teaspoon of sugar because someone, somewhere once told us that worked.

Ideally, enough of us will truly embody being the change we want to see over settling for seeing the change we want to be. Realistically, however, I fear that America is at-risk of traveling down the wrong path and crowning our president, Barack Obama, the long-awaited Savior. The Black Jesus, who will undoubtedly heal all lepers and give vision to the blind through blanket health care; The Mystery God who in old-faith tradition we can lay our burdens on and watch die for all our sins and unwillingness to bear our own crosses if they are anything other than fashionably blinged-out and pendant-size. Ain’t the truth cold? Achoo! Obama bless you. Thank you.

Obama knows this. He stresses the importance of individual accountability and the sense of communal efforts within each public address because he knows this. He’s dodging thorny crowns left and right, trying to resist the role of mulatto ottoman upon which all weary soles are placed. He knows every one of us is needed if we are to ever pull America back up by her blood-soaked bootstraps. And the danger in his cry falling upon deaf ears is looming.

Coming down from an inaugural high, America is faced with a sobering reality. We’re teetering on the line between shouting Yes We Did momentarily, as a celebratory exclamation of a once-unimaginable accomplishment, and using it evermore to prop up a false sense of arrival–one that paints mirages of security and births lackadaisical work ethic.

Yes We Did! Yes, We Did. But now that we have, What Will We Do Now?

Or, perhaps, W.hat W.ould O.bama D.o?

Or better still, rather than placing all of the healing on the shoulders of one outstanding soul, perhaps it is time we each stand, and Be the Savior We Want to See.