[Useless]

*This began as a short post for the morning thread. It wasn't meant to be an essay, but I couldn't stop.

I'm having difficulty coming down from the election. The corner this nation has turned is so momentous, I simply can't get it off my mind. While standing outside of my son's school these past couple of afternoons, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, I wonder if the other parents standing there are thinking the same things that I'm thinking, or are they pondering their errands or the upcoming holidays? Have they moved on, is it just another day for them, have they even taken a moment to understand the significance of it all?

Tuesday night, while watching MSNBC's election coverage, I sat on the couch discussing segregation and the civil rights movement with my 13 year-old daughter and 9 year-old son. I desperately needed them to know what the possible election of Barack Obama stood for other than the end of the Bush Era and slow draw-down of the war in Iraq. They needed to know that he wouldn't be just another president, whether his policies worked or not; that even if this young man was a total flop as the leader of the free world, his term in office would be a great achievement for America.

As a parent, I had made the conscious decision to not use racial slurs in front of my children, no matter how angry I got in traffic, which is when those tendencies seem to kick-in for me. (You see, I'm not claiming to be completely without racist thoughts. I acknowledge them and I know that they are wrong and I don't allow such underlying impulses to rule me.) I've always wanted to spare my children the racial bias I was raised with.

My parents were/are pretty typical Upstate New York racists. My mother's soft brand of racism is peculiar to me. I've never heard her say anything derogatory about another race and I assume that she feels that we are all equal, but at the same time, she didn't want to offend, I suppose, the racists around her. When I was in high school, she said to me, "I know you like black girls, but it would be better if you don't date one because a lot of people don't like that." (I took that as a warning for my future since there was only one black girl in my high school and she was two grades ahead of me. The black girls I had crushes on were all on tv.) My father, on the other hand, seemed to be fond of the word 'nigger,' which I never understood since we lived where there were so few blacks. I'd always admonish him for it and he'd always reply with something like, "you'll learn someday." However, if he met a black person and spoke with them, suddenly that individual was an exception to his rule, someone he'd never again refer to as a nigger. (It may have been this glaring inconsistency that forced me to think about race and racism rather than following the path that I was presented.)

During the presidential primaries, my father, the life-long Republican was, of course, backing McCain. When I spoke of Obama, he'd tell me that I was dreaming and that the U.S. wasn't ready for a black president. But then he watched the Democratic National Convention. He listened to Barack Obama's speech. The very next day, my father, the Republican, the racist, was backing Obama. He was excited about Obama. And on this past Tuesday, both of my parents voted for Obama.

Telling my kids about Whites-Only water fountains, bathrooms, segregated schools, seating on buses, I could see their astonishment. I remember being appalled by it when I learned about it in school, and I was learning about it within a decade after it ended. I could tell that it sounded like a world away to them - and I'm glad. Children are born with an amazing amount emotional intelligence and a strong sense of justice. For them to learn about segregation and the suffering it caused, and to respond with, "that's crazy," gives me a great amount of joy.

Though my son had fallen asleep by the time Barack Obama was declared the victor, my daughter was still by my side. I like to think, due to our conversation, that she had a better understanding of the emotions being expressed by the crowds of students and adults whom we saw dancing, cheering and crying on tv that night, that she understood it was not only a celebration of our first black president, but an acknowledgment of all of those who fought so hard, who were beaten for daring to protest a great injustice, and a remembrance of those who died dreaming of equality in the United States.

The majority of Americans tore down a massive racial barrier that night, and I'm proud to be one of them.