An open letter to my President, Barack Obama
19 January 2017
Dear Mr President,
It’s hard to believe that it was over eight years ago that I sat in my college apartment in Bowling Green, Kentucky watching as you were declared the winner of the 2008 election. I was with my roommates, a white neo-hippie and a white fraternity and army man, and two Black women friends who openly wept as you made history. We all raised glasses of red wine to your victory and to the future it promised.
How differently today, the last day of your administration, feels. You need only to look at your farewell address, full of optimism and appealing to the better angels of our nature, and compare it to Trump’s press conference the very next day, which spoke to the worst of American instincts. I am again drinking — not to celebrate, but to forget. To numb the pain and existential dread I’m feeling. We stand on the precipice of a great and terrifying unknown. Donald Trump is the antithesis of everything you stood for. Where you brought sharp intellect, he brings vapid showmanship. Where you brought hope, he brings fear. Where you sowed harmony, he spreads discord. Where you were inclusive, he is divisive.
While I won’t pretend I’m not terrified of what’s to come, the stark contrast between you and your successor reminds me of why I am so grateful for your presidency — and for you. Mr President, you have transformed this country and left your mark on it in everlasting ways.
And you did it all without a scandal, or even so much as a blemish on your reputation. You and the First Family were the model family, the paradigm of American domesticity. That you were Black made it all the more important: for eight years the country watched a stable, educated, Black family lead. It broke racist stereotypes in the minds of so many white Americans, including in my own immediate family, and you showed millions of young Black children that they could occupy the highest echelons of power. The importance of that can never be understated, nor can the fact that for an entire generation of children you are the only president they’ve ever known. Black or white, these kids will not grow up thinking of the White House as being only accessible to white men. We can’t begin to imagine the legacy that alone leaves.
But to reduce you to the first Black president is to diminish the weight of your accomplishments. You brought healthcare to millions who would have suffered or even died without it. You rescued the economy on the brink of ruin. You killed the man who attacked us on 9/11. You spoke with conviction and compassion on gun violence, serving as the conscience of an unfeeling nation when we allowed kids to be massacred in their school or worshipers to be murdered in their church. You kept us safe from foreign terrorist attacks. You kept us prosperous and employed. And you kept us hopeful of a better tomorrow.
As a gay man, you made me think that my future could be so much more than I ever hoped for. The same day you were elected, Proposition 8 revoked equality in California. Many of us, young though we were, thought equal marriage was something we wouldn’t see in our lifetimes. But then you changed that. I’ll never forget watching you tell Robin Roberts that I was equal and deserved equal rights. It was a watershed moment in the gay rights movement: the American president was affirming my humanity and equality. You instructed your Justice Department and Solicitor General not to defend DOMA, or Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. You appointed Supreme Court justices who correctly interpreted the 14th Amendment to include me. You included us in the narrative and fabric of America. You gave Ellen DeGeneres the highest civilian honour. For the first time in history, gay Americans were treated not as others, but as full and equal Americans. I will never forget what you’ve done for us.
I will miss you so much, Mr President. I will miss your corny dad jokes. I will miss your principled addresses. I will miss your calm, rational approach to policy and governance. I will miss your steady, guiding hand and your moral guidance.
Thank you for everything you’ve done for the United States. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Because of you I have a solid middle-class income. Because of you I have a career. Because of you I have health insurance. Because of you I’m equal. Because of you, I finally, if only briefly, believed in the promise of the American experiment.
You will go down in history as one of the greats. Thank you for your service, Mr President. It has been my greatest honour to be led by you. I love you.
Sincerely,
Skylar Baker-Jordan
Chicago, Illinois
Skylar Baker-Jordan is an essayist and journalist based in Chicago. His work has appeared at the Independent, the Daily Dot, Salon, the Advocate, and elsewhere. He is currently pursuing a visa to immigrate to the United Kingdom.
