My Story by Christine Hill

Last night after the polls closed, one of my fine Canvas Captains (Tim) and I decided to make a pizza run to bring food back to an impromptu party that had been organized. We left with the knowledge that Barack was on his way, but as with many, our anxiety would need to see, hear, and know that Barack had in fact been elected before returning to anything approaching normal (I think normal was sometime six or seven months ago).

We stopped at a local PickNSave at 10:01 p.m. only to learn that they had closed at 10:00 p.m. As we discussed our next pizza strategy, driving down Good Hope Road my cell phone rang, almost simultaneous with Tim's phone. We both answered our individual cell phones to hear my daughter (on mine) and his son (on his) shouting, screaming, crying that Barack had won! Tears filled our eyes, as we headed toward the nearest gas station (our second pizza strategy), both of us recognizing that in that moment a floodgate of emotion was being released from our hearts, our bodies, and our souls. Pulling into the gas station together we sent prayers to the heavens, thanking God for the gift we had just been given. Quick hugs were swiftly followed by pizzas flying out of the freezer and into our arms. We returned to the cheers and tears of the group already in progress.

It occurs to me now that that moment on Good Hope (this IS the actual name of the street we were on) was wonderfully symbolic of a long and at times difficult process - certainly longer for those who entered the campaign earlier than me - but even longer for those who have felt the oppression of being "different", of lacking visibility in a political world that has often disenfranchised populations of citizens for their inability to fit an acceptable mold.

Here was this white, 58 year old woman who has never known suffering or alienation but believes ardently in the goodness of the human spirit and the need for shared accountability within our communities, with a black, younger but no less mature man who understands what it can mean to struggle and yet finds common ground with the woman sitting next to him. In a moment that I will remember for the rest of my life, the color of our skin, while noticeable and layered with history, disappeared as we both listened to our children - children who together see the world and all of its possibilities as one - children who together can carry this magnificent moment into the future in a way never imagined.