Joint Contrast

By – Dank Lucas

I stood in a lobby full of applauding students and teachers Tuesday at a technical school full of laid off workers and unemployed mothers in one of the most hard hit regions of this country over the last eight years, Canton, OH. I marveled at history. My president is black. Wow.

We here in Big Ten country are no stranger to rocky race relations. I remember countless fights on the playground between friends, and enemies, of all races over the color of their skin. I introduced my own mother to the first black person she ever knew and later the first Asians. Her grandfather actually told her while growing up in Rochester, NY that if a black man caught her and her sisters out alone he would eat them. I’m not fucking kidding – “Eat Them!”

My friend’s name was Shannon Dorsey. He was taken from us too early by senseless violence spawned from greed and poverty. I remember my grandfather making black joke after black joke about a black girl kissing me in junior high then failing to understand why I was so pissed at him. That girl’s name was Veronica Gray and she was taken from us too soon by the senseless violence spawned from the criminalization of a drug trade force-fed to the black community.

White folks just don’t get it sometimes. Imagine being invited to a game of Monopoly after hundreds of years of slavery and being told “OK I guess you can play” only after all the properties are owned and there’s a skyscraping, penis shaped hotel built on every corner waiting to fuck you in the ass with every roll of the dice. Not a very inviting idea from the Home of the Brave, is it?

Now, I’m a cynical fuck. And like all cynical fucks I could give less than the popular two shits for a politician. I see it like this, if you spend the majority of your life smiling for the camera on your soapbox while telling other people how to live, and you do this enough to get on television AND get paid for it, then you can’t possibly have enough time left in your day to have a fucking clue about mine. Of course this is all expected to happen while you retain a blind eye to rich-fuck interest groups peppering your campaign with mounds of tasty greenbacks who are most definitely expecting a reach around. But then I discovered a guy, and my guy’s different.

My guy didn’t take one lobby dollar for his campaign. My guy is the epitome of class and hope. My guy made men and women of every race proud on Tuesday. My guy makes me believe my government won’t mace me with a fear campaign. My guy makes the idea of family inviting again. My guy is Barack Obama.

There was a sense of achievement in the air today I’ve never felt before as a citizen of this country. There is an air of possibility in every breath again. By every breath I mean for every mother or wife of a soldier fighting this debacle of a war. For every nonviolent drug offender swept under the rug to be hidden away in prisons while those in power actually run some of these prisons for profit. For any out-of-work head of a home wishing he could provide just enough and not a dime more. For every poor man and woman who can’t afford the bear necessity of healthcare. For all the Shannon Dorsey’s, and all the Veronica Grays, My President is black! Good Luck Mr. Obama.