Drowning in a new kind of patriotism

The piercing ring of the cell phone in my ear at 4:30 a.m. was not caused by a giddy friend who wanted to restate in a slurred shout his undying man crush on me as he stumbled home from an after-after party.

The noise was actually planned, and the phone alarm sprung me from a makeshift bed that laid on the ground of a friend’s house in Dupont, a short jog away from where Barack Obama would stand at a podium later that morning, and, in so doing, write a paragraph in the next edition of grade-school history textbooks.

I felt compelled to travel to Washington not as a masochist who enjoys traffic jams or moving five feet in 30 minutes among a sea of people. I also didn’t make the trip to rustle my pom-poms for the home team, even though I did vote for Mr. Obama.

I endured the mayhem and the nostril-numbing cold to see why everyone else was there.

Standing on the National Mall at 6:30 a.m., knowing there were four hours until the festivities kicked off, I realized I had a lot of time to search for my answer...

Two friends from Brazil who recently opened an eatery in the area were there to celebrate the induction of a more global U.S. President.

White twentysomethings who were high school friends from Pennsylvania reunited to see a politician who had inspired them to become more participatory in government.

A black family from Alabama braved a long bus ride to see a man who reflected a new beginning for them. Tears would later trickle down the faces of the mother and father as Obama spoke of how “a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.”

I was particularly struck by the fierce sense of pride black families displayed, shown by the portraits of the Obama family they wore on shirts and the sense of ownership they asserted through their language. Jan. 20 was more than an event on their calendar; it was an obligation, a celebration, a vindication.

The most poignant and telling moment of the weekend for me came on Inauguration Eve, when I was strolling around the Capitol, drinking in the pre-game vibe.

A young black boy, no older than four, was playfully running in circles near the front steps of the building when his father yelled to him.

“Come on, buddy, we need to get to our hotel,” Dad said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day for all of us, and you’re going to be able to say you were here to see it.”

The expectations placed on President Obama, especially from the black community and sometimes from media members intoxicated by romanticism, are astronomically high, to the point of being unfair.

But the man does signal a profound changing of the guard in America. The disparity between older and younger voters in the 2008 presidential election was the widest ever recorded, according to a recent Newsweek story. In addition, by 2050, whites will make up only 47% of the U.S. population, the same story reported.

And that young black boy I saw on the steps of the Capitol who is a part of this shift will have at least one role model to channel motivation from.

As I surveyed the crowd on the National Mall that morning, I realized that some have already started channeling. And that can only be a good thing.