Even if you’re going hard for Kucinich (and aren’t the lot of us, deep down?), you know the Democratic nomination is a Hillary versus Obama showdown. The Seasoned Politico versus the Activist-Cum-Wunderkind. The First Lady-Turned-Viable Candidate versus the Racially Mixed DILF with the Adorable Family. The Chick versus the Black Guy. Despite their similar stance on some issues, the lines are clearly drawn.Many of you, however, pretend that you are not concerned with having a specific person in the White House. As long as the Electoral College swings Blue, you claim you will be content. You keep up with the debates and primaries, but your heart’s not in it. You try to act all tough, like none of this fazes you. But there’s a reason you’re afraid to truly engage: you are head over heels in love with Obama. Face it.
Hell, you’re not just in love with him; you’re in love with Michelle, Sasha, Malia, and his pure fucking hopefulness. You become highly susceptible to pregnancy every time he smiles, even if you are a man. Yet, you won’t support him because you’re afraid of the disappointment it may bring.
I know this, people, because I was once one of you.
Yes, yes, I, too, am in love with BO. A fan since the 2004 convention, I was ecstatic when he announced he was running, albeit a little concerned. I nonetheless kept up with his every political move. Though I had no television last summer, I spent a few nights on YouTube, watching the early debates with a voracity typically reserved for Gossip Girl or Chipotle. And so our affair began.
It was all quick and torrid. We bonded over universal health care. I nodded my head in agreement when he talked about a woman’s right to choose and gave a spirited “right on!” when he approached education issues. We didn’t agree on everything, but he was the best person for the job. He made me feel good about the future. His activist roots, faint six-pack, freaking awesome wife, and criminally cute kids didn’t hurt, either.
But somewhere around August/ September, I panicked. Barack was up against a steel-balled former First Lady and a Southern white male. Why were we kidding ourselves? Why should I trust the same nation that was slow to Katrina and the Jena 6 to elect a black man named Barack HUSSEIN Obama? I knew we would both get our hearts broken when he didn’t win the party nomination, let alone the election. So, it was time to break up; I had to let a summer fling be a summer fling. In the following months I faked indifference toward all candidates, all the while my realistic-minded liberal heart bled for Barack.
Last week, amid the primaries, I started to miss him*. I wanted him back, and badly. Still, a future with Hillary seemed imminent, and one last try, at first, didn’t seem worth it. Oh, but it so is. Allow me to enlighten you:
The choice between Hillary and Barack is a matter of faith, above all else. Hills is capable, but does she have that hopeful spark? I needed to adopt Barack’s hope; what initially drew me into his campaign. I needed to have faith not only in him, but faith that America will someday soon elect someone capable, optimistic, and fresh. The opportunity to truly believe in a politician only comes along so often. To look back knowing that a good, truly viable candidate came along and I didn’t support him because I didn’t have the faith to would hurt worse than him losing.
My faith restored, I’m officially coming out as an Obama supporter, and if you've got the inclination, I suggest you do the same. I’m riding this train as far as it will go. In the event that Hillary gets the nomination (and it is shaping up to be that way), I will transfer my support. But my Election 2008 heart always, and forever, belongs to Barack Obama.
*If this were a real life relationship, this is the point where one might start sending him drunken text messages in the middle of the night; begging for “forgvnesz” and for the chance to” hang ut won moore time.”
Posted by: Brittany
Photo courtesy of Associated Press
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