And when we arrived at W. 125th St., after President-Elect Barack Obama’s acceptance speech, the crowd hadn’t let up in either numbers or exuberance.
I was with a small group of friends up in Harlem, watching the returns, nursing a whiskey or two, and trying hard not to bite my fingernails. We all felt good, but cautiously so. I copped to having cried a bit as I voted, warned the group that I was likely to cry again before the night was through. The refrain of the evening was a Smurf-like “Can we get excited yet?” “Not yet, no. But soon.”
Then MSNBC called Ohio for Obama. Yes, now we can start getting excited.
Even if we hadn’t been watching TV, we would’ve known the minute the networks called the election for Obama. I swear to you the earth moved, time shifted. The neighborhood exploded in cheers and whoops and honking horns.
We walked to 125th St. (on our way, the following: “It’s kinda late, do you think anyone will still be there?”), high-fiving and hugging as we went. One woman I think thought it was Mardi Gras and showed us her boobs. (I am not making that up.) Mardi Gras, Barack Obama Day — could be the start of something.
The mood on 125th St. at about 1:00 am was still electric and joyous. Chanting, hollering, embracing, dancing. At some point I realized, shit: I have work in the morning. I was loathe to leave, but somehow I dragged myself away. Didn’t feel like hopping in a cab, either. Wanted the long ride home, wanted to be in a crowd still. Wanted to talk to strangers.
Fort Greene greeted me with the same revelry. Incredible. Lafayette was fairly empty by the time I got to it but DeKalb, over by Madiba? packed with people, even at 2:30 am. Cars and buses could not get through. Live music, dancing, sparklers, chants, hooting and hollering. I had no choice but to join in. This is my home.
Four years ago I felt as though our country was broken, and the years leading up to this have made it feel as though it were irreparably so. Last night I was reunited with the country I want to live in.
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