A New Day Dawned
Breathing a new day.
It is the day after the day after when we heard the collective exhale of a nation that had been held in the vise grip of hatred for four years. We were finally able to breathe again.
The Inauguration of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris was something I deeply needed, much like the euphoria of 2008, I felt the collective excitement and wonder of emerging from a long nightmare.
I wore my Chucks & Pearls,
put on my sorority colors to honor my SistaGreek, and felt like I was in a party all day, complete with costume changes. It was a moment I wanted to capture and while Covid19 and the 1/6/21 insurrection attempt had us cancelling our plans to be there, the new administration took great pains to have us feel like we were a part of all of it.
From the night before with the collective memorial service to the fireworks at the end, it was all ritual that included remembering, acknowledging, listening, and restoring.
I smiled with sistagirlpride with First Lady Michelle Obama walking down the stairs with the curls bouncing and that plum ensemble capturing all the attention. My pride was overwhelming when Vice President Kamala Harris took her Oath of Office in the purple as a nod to Shirley Chisholm and bipartisanship. Dr. Jill Biden had me simply in awe with the noted elegance of her day and evening attire, and the colors of her step-daughters. It was all wonderful.
I snapped photos all day as if we were there
The poet, Amanda Gormon,
reminded us that history has its eyes on us. History compels us to acknowledge what happened to us and as President Biden mentioned, to heal is to remember. We must. In relishing in the sunshine of that new day, we captured every moment so we could hold onto it longer, it had been a long long dark night.
I hope for a different and better future, but it takes the work. That work is happening now and I appreciate it. It also takes acknowledging and a scholar, I went to Isabel Wilkerson's book, Caste, where she wrote about the 2008 election of President Obama and what the ensuing panic attack did to White America. What happened on 1/6/2021 was that last gasp and desperate attempt to stop the voices and presence of people like me, like Amanda Gorman, like VP Harris, like her little niece, like anyone one with hopes and dreams in sun kissed skin.
I breathed, deeply, smiled with my family,
rejoiced in the new day, and then, picked up my pen and went to work.