Dear Mr. President

Dear Mr. President,

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart to the depths of my soul…thank you. As the day turns into night and the cold chill sets into the air, I am thankful. I’m overwhelmed and thankful. The question has been asked several times if we ever thought we’d see this day in our lifetime. No, I did not. I never thought that I would see the day where my first family would look just like me. Where my first family would come from the Southside of Chicago in a neighborhood similar to mine. Thank you. When I was younger my teachers looked at me and all my peers and told us that we could be whatever we wanted to be. They told us that all that we dreamt of at night could come true, if only we believed. They told us that with a good education and a dream in our heart, we could achieve the impossible. And I believed this until I was old enough to realize that no African American had ever been president…no matter how much education they had. No woman had every been president…no matter how qualified they were. So by the time I reached high school, I no longer believed that I could be whatever I wanted to be. A lawyer…maybe. A doctor…if I’m able. But never President of the United States…THESE United States. Never…in a million years. I always thought to myself, I can only go as high as they allow me. Every president, no matter how much I identified with their views, just couldn’t understand what it was like to be a Black woman growing up in the United States. So while they represented me, they didn’t understand me. While they stood in for me, they couldn’t stand for me. I was born in a country where I was once considered only three fifths of a person. The politicians fought so their children wouldn’t have to go to school with Black children. You see Mr. President, I just didn’t think that I would ever see you and your wife walking down Pennsylvania Avenue as THE First Family. You see I come from a place where most of my peers are just lucky to graduate from high school. The dreams we have are small in the eyes of man and often even those, are unattainable. Mr. President, we come from families that struggle to put food on the table and often die of heartache because they were never able to give their children the life that they know they deserved. My grandmother is 71 years old and still gets up and goes to work everyday. Not because she wants to, but because that’s what you have to do…where I come from. On this day, Mr. President, when Aretha Franklin sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee,” that’s the first time that I felt like I had a home…and its name was America. So thank you Mr. President for doing it for me. Thank you for giving my great grandmother something to smile about…even though she grew up in the Jim Crow South. Thank you Mr. President for allowing me the opportunity to always be honest with my children. In the future, when I tuck them in the bed at night and I tell them that they can be whatever they want to be…I won’t be lying. When I tell my son that he can play basketball AND be president of the United States…THESE United States, he can look me in my face and say ‘without a shadow of doubt, mama I know I can.’ Thank you. Thank you Mr. President for being a good husband to your wife and a great father to your children. Thank you for showing me that you can come from a single parent home and still have a health family. Thank you. Thank you for carrying the burden of so many broken chidren…from the Southside of Chicago to the villages in Kenya. Thank you. Thank you for showing me that as a black woman, I don’t have to settle for anything less than the best. Showing me that if I want to, I can become the first lady of the United States…THESE.United States. You didn’t have to do it. You could’ve left your dreams where they told you to leave them…in your heart. But you didn’t. You took your wife and your children and you put your life in harm’s way…for me. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart to the depths of my soul…Mr. President.