Tears for Obama, tears for my girls

When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me about the importance of equal rights for women.  I remember listening carefully but not completely understanding because it seemed, from my point of view as a kid in the 1970s, that women did have equal rights.

I took it for granted and figured that my mom must really be from another era to know of something so different than what I was experiencing.

One of the greatest things about Barack Obama becoming president is that my daughters will take it for granted that a man with brown skin can lead our country.  My daughters will grow up looking at Michelle Obama as a role model, and they’ll grow up envying Malia and Sasha Obama and their new puppy and wondering about them and their life growing up in the White House the same way that I wondered about Amy Carter.

And just like I didn’t think twice about seeing women have equal rights or about women working outside of the home, my daughters won’t think twice about seeing a brown-skinned family in power.

Even though I have concerns about Barack Obama (I think his rhetoric regarding Pakistan and Afghanistan is further to the right than even John McCain’s; I am concerned that he is pro-death penalty in certain cases; I don’t think he goes nearly far enough to guarantee the rights of gay people), I voted for him for other reasons.

I cried along with so many other people on election night to see Obama and his beautiful, young family in that park in Chicago, claiming victory on such a historic night.

And now it will be my daughters who will know that their mom really is from another era when she explains to them that there was a time when she couldn’t have imagined that an African-American would be elected president in her lifetime.

I couldn’t be more excited at the thought that my daughters will think I’m that old-fashioned.