FLIPSIDE

After 5 hours, 14 minutes and 32 seconds, I was finally handed a ballot. A ballot that could possibly change my life and the lives of millions of other Americans who took part in electing a new president some seven days ago. Emerging from the voting booth with ballot in hand, I couldn't do anything but smile. I was a part of history. A part of the struggle. The struggle that our elders find hard to forget. The struggle that small children might not yet understand.

Later on that night, I watched the ballot counting along with my family and most of America while complaining about how tired my feet were for standing so long earlier in the day trying to vote. Suddenly after a quick commercial a full screen shot of Obama was being shown as the winner of this year's election. With total disregard to my aching feet I jumped up and hugged my crying mother. She cried tears of joy as did most of the people who were being shown on television.

The tears were for joy of the promise of a new day. The tears were also for all of the ones who were detrimental to the movement of civil rights who lost their lives and freedom to ensure that we would be able to see something like this happen in our lifetime. You can honestly look your child in the eyes and tell him that he really can be anything he wants to be in life.

At that moment I wished my grandparents were still alive. My grandfather who risked his life in World War II, only to come home to no job, no rights and a life full of discrimination and racism. A grandmother who used rear entrances and sat in the back of restaurants because blacks weren't allowed up front. This election was for them and those four little girls in that church in Birmingham who didn't even have a chance to live life. Catch ya' on the FLIPSIDE.