with a major union or join the Obama
campaign, I had the wit to reply: “Kid,
this is your generation’s Selma, and
you dare not miss it.”
Despite that advice, I didn’t really
believe in Obama’s possibilities until
he won the Iowa caucuses—and even
then I was still struggling mightily to
comprehend how the White House
could be his for the taking. Look-
ing at the very capable candidate, I
thought back to the scores of highly
intelligent black men and women I’d
known over my lifetime who never
even passed Go because whites did
not believe they could do serious
work. I thought about how my own
credentials as a professional had
come into question in the 1970s. I’d
been hired as an editorial writer for
The New York Times, and after a cou-
ple of months on the job, the wife of
a colleague shared that her husband
was relieved I was proving to be “the
real thing”—not the incompetent
affirmative action hire he suspected
I was, despite a glittering journalistic
history. The exchange highlighted
the ignorance, fears, and elitism that
were still the baggage of a divided
nation. And it was baggage I feared
would weigh down the Obama cam-
paign and make it founder.
But it was baggage Elizabeth did
not want, or need, to carry. Her be-
lief in the promise of the country,
and of the electorate, was firm and
enthusiastic. So, too, was the belief
of tens of thousands of others in her
generation—a multiracial, multieth-
nic lot that crossed class lines—who
stormed the country and helped
spread this optimism to others. Af-
ter the Iowa caucuses, I caught that
fire. With every primary victory
by Obama, I came to see what they
saw—that the tide was turning, that
whites of all ages who’d been waiting
for a strong and inspiring candidate
and a way to help the country rise
above its past were happy to have this
choice; that blacks who had never
quite felt valued in their own land
could finally cast away their hidden
shame. But foremost I saw once again
that change requires hard work and
a steady, abiding commitment to the
republic—just as it always has.
With every
primary victory
I saw that the
tide was turning.
strong—Ben Franklin knew that
more than two centuries ago. Our
charge today is that we not forget,
and to pass that spirit to our youth.
I am reminded of a civics project
Elizabeth interviewed me for when
she was age ten or so. At the end
of our recorded conversation, she
asked whether I had “any advice for
kids now and in the future.”
“I think that decency and justice
have to be worked for and fought for
all the time,” I responded. “It’s im-
portant for Americans to understand
that the political rights we’re granted
under the Constitution are meant
to be used. You have to vote, get in-
volved in making your neighborhood
a better place, support education, fair
housing, and good medical care; may-
be even run for office. If you think a
law is unfair, write to your congress-
man, call the White House.”
“You can do that?” Elizabeth
asked.
“You can do that.” ;
Historian and journalist Roger Wilkins
is professor emeritus at George Mason
University in Fairfax, Virginia.
