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I will be here giving out cookies and such…

So, last night I was a crying mess. When the headlines went up on CNN and MSNBC I started bawling. Even though, watching the election all night it wasn’t a surprise, it was still a shock. It was awe-inspiring.  It was emotional because the abstract became real. It was happening. My generation hasn’t seen the worst of the racial struggle. Our issues are often seen as by-products of racial injustice: poor education, drug abuse and in my opinion, the worst and most overlooked culprit, the lack of support from older generations.

To be an African-American child of the ’80s and the hip hop generation means you’re unfamiliar with  the unconditional support of anyone outside of your age range. We’ve grown up seeing our culture vilified by the Bill O’Reillys, the Rush Limbaughs, the Tipper Gores and so forth. And we’ve experienced similar sentiments from Bill Cosby, C. Delores Tucker, Jesse Jackson and many more. The pillars of black leadership have so often treated my generation like the lost children, decrying our baggy pants, our music, and our low achievement levels; rarely acknowledging or establishing the neglect that has engendered our scrappy, apathetic, disconnected existence.

And last night mollified some of my bitterness towards the American and the African-American community. For one, my candidate won. I was on the winning team. I’m familiar with the Clinton legacy but at 24, I’ve never directly enabled their success as a voter or a participant in the election process. Similarly, I have a president that I can look up to and relate to. My president is African, went to the Ivy League, asks others for help and doesn’t believe in the status quo. He knows how to use his imperfections or supposed setbacks (inexperience, race) to his advantage. He has answer for every single scenario opponents battered him with during the election. And he handled it with grace. When he won, I realized I wasn’t alone in my thinking and that feeling of inclusion and a common mind-set focused on a common goal was the shocking and inspiring thing.

And for once, there was little to no ideological difference between me and my older African-American counterparts. Jesse Jackson and I both cried last night – perhaps for different reasons but the magnitude of emotion was the same. I know that for the older generation such as Jesse, this comes after years of marches, speeches, beatings, glacial legislation and staggered triumphs. I almost wish I could have seen this election through well-worn, experienced eyes that have seen it all and never thought they would see this.

But I did get to see this as someone who has only seen few historical moments and even fewer positive ones. The defining moments of our generation are marked by tragedy: 9/11, Columbine, Virginia Tech, the deaths of Tupac, Biggie, Aaliyah and Left Eye and the list goes on. But now I can count one of the biggest moments in American history as an event that could only happen with the help of my generation. Obama mobilized an electorate through the internet and media-saturation. He helmed a grassroots organization spearheaded by old-guard political advisors working shoulder to shoulder with a founder of Facebook. He galvanized youth who are haunted by the spectre of an ugly racial past and uncertain future. He made me, my friends, my parents and anybody else who would listen, feel like he was on our side. Wherever I go, I know I can speak to anyone of any generation about one of the biggest social movements in history.

This is my blog. I will write stuff here. The end.