I remember, I was about five years old. I was attending a Pre-K in Queens, New York. I vividly recall my homework this particular night. It was to cut and paste pictures of Presidents with their names. Bill Clinton was in office. I can’t say for sure if I understood anything about race just yet. But I do remember that all the Presidents “looked the same.” I remember cutting and pasting with my now late mother, and I looked up at her and said, “I want to be President one day!” She gave me this look, as though she was pained to tell me that what I was hoping for was simply not feasible. I suppose it wasn’t in that time. She said, “You can be anything in this world, except for that.” Of course being a five-year-old, I asked “why?” She replied, “Someday you’ll understand.” And we left it at that. My mother did not have a discouraging bone in her body–bless her soul. I think that was just her way to break it down to my 5 year old- psyche that this world was far more complicated than I could digest at the time. 

As I watched our forever President glide across that stage, with tremendous grace and humility, last night to share his final address with our nation, I thought of that night with my mamma. I thought of the night in 2008, when my heart pounded with pride when Barack Hussein Obama was declared our President in the middle of the night. I remember weeping in my bed alone because that was also the time when I was attending CUNY City College of New York and taking my first few Black Studies courses. I understood the implications of having our first African-American as President of The United States of America. Obama was elected during the birth of my black consciousness. I remember walking through New York City, particularly 125th Street in Harlem to get to class and purchasing and boldly wearing my “Yes We Can!” pins. I also remember the Saturday after Obama won his first Presidency, my usually kind, white biology teacher walking with me to get coffee, and platonically saying, “Maybe next time you all will get a full black President.” His racism was so quick and staccato. It’s a  subtle racism we have all gotten acquainted with within these last eight years. 

Yes, we have had Presidents before and there will be Presidents to come. But for my generation, this was the President that we grew up with. This is the man of Integrity and character that we got so used to seeing on our screens, throughout college, graduate school and our budding careers. For many of us, this was the first election that we had the opportunity to actually vote in because we were now of age. Therefore, this was the first President that truly mattered to us. He is the one that we chose. We saw the power that our community and rallying and lobbying possessed. For us, we had a concrete representation of good, wholesome, healthy love via our President and First Lady, in a time that bombards us with the notion that good love can’t find us. 

President Obama represents all that we aspire to be and all that we can actualize. He also represents all that we have to be in order to be taken even remotely seriously by the majority. It’s amazing that even with all his accolades, grace, humility, intellect, skill and relatability– still he remained under constant attack and scrutiny.  It’s hard to imagine and accept the shift that will happen once his Presidency is officially over. But we are grateful that he exists and that he was here for eight years. We are indebted to our example. 

My mother didn’t live to see the first black President. But I did. And as our President was so eloquently speaking last night, like only he can, my mind fast forwarded to 70 years from now. I imagined me being graced with long life, and telling my many beautiful grandchildren about this very speech. This very Presidency. This spectacular man. That pain and regret in my mother’s eyes when she helped me with my homework back in the Pre-K, because of me, because of us, because of the legacy of Barack Obama, I will not have to share that same unfortunate reality with my little ones. Farewell, Obama. Because of you, we could. We did. We will. May God replenish you and your family for all you’ve poured into us.