A little over seven years ago, in July of 2001, my son was born. Almost exactly two months later, on my brother's 21st birthday, the twin towers fell. I watched the news reports, horrified, and rocked my baby boy, clung to him, cried and apologized. What world had I brought him into? How much worse would it get? What terrors would he live to see?
In my son's short life there has been only the Bush administration, an administration that disturbs and disgusts me, that offends my fundamental sense of right and wrong. And in the seven years since 9/11, I have watched this administration, appalled, and have asked myself the same questions. What world have I brought my son into? How much worse will it get? What terrors will he live to see?
But last night I helped this country elect its first African-American president.
And if that isn't mind blowing enough, this year I voted not for the lesser of two evils, but for a candidate I honestly believe in; a candidate capable of putting some of these pieces back together, not because he is some sort of Democrat superhero, but because he is capable of motivating us to roll up our sleeves and help. I have faith in his ability to inspire and faith in our ability to transform and heal.
And for the first time in my parenting career, I have real hope for my child's future opportunities in this country. What world have I brought him into? One that will continue to move forward. One where the impossible can happen. One that, as is every parent's hope, will be better than the one I was brought into.
After eight years of hanging my head in shame, today I am - dare I say it? - proud to be an American.
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