In less than 24 hours, millions
of American voters will begin casting the deciding ballots in an election
that has captivated the world. And I will say unabashedly, Barack
Obama must win.
To paraphrase my friend Michael,
I didn't drink the Kool-Aid. I don't believe one man can solve
all the problems facing America and the world. But I have experienced
first-hand the sense of hope, fearlessness, and unity of purpose that
the Obama campaign has inspired. This time around, a ridiculous
collection of people truly, deeply give a shit.
The morning I completed my
Washington State absentee ballot from my home in Vancouver and set out
for the post office, a close friend emailed urging me to "get in the
game" for Get Out the Vote (GOTV) weekend.
And so, I headed to Missouri
where the slimmest margin in the country separates Obama and John McCain.
A motley crew of friends streamed into St. Louis from San Francisco,
Salt Lake City, Chicago, Austin, New York, and Washington DC, all of
us drained of our collective cynicism and filled with a giddy energy.
Within three hours of landing,
my friend Cliff and I watched Obama electrify an audience of 40,000
at the University of Missouri in Columbia. 12 days before, Obama
had stood framed by the old St. Louis Courthouse, where slaves were
once sold from the front steps, and addressed a crowd of over 100,000
people as the leading candidate to become President of the United States.
The days were a blur of phone
banking, sorting, carrying, counting, typing, driving, printing, and
moving. I stood on Olive Street giving out Obama-Biden lawn signs
and signing up volunteers. For every passing motorist who gave
me the thumbs down, I received at least ten honks and waves of approval.
Three particularly classy drivers gave me the finger, but that only
made my fellow volunteer Miss Elizabeth laugh out loud.
My friend Aarti and I knocked
on 378 doors in economically distressed and working class neighbourhoods,
speaking to registered voters about election day. People
told us they were planning to get in line at 5:00 am so they could be
first when the polls opened at 6:00 am. Others told us they were
bringing their vote, their patience, and a lawn chair, since record
turnout is expected in one of the few states without early voting.
I was still buzzing from the
euphoria of the campaign trail, waiting to board my flight back to Vancouver
when I received an inflammatory email from a relative about Obama's
Kenyan roots and Muslim affiliations. It filled me with anger
and without forethought I fired off an impassioned response, the kind
I had not expressed to my elders in the previous year and a half.
If any of my extraordinary cousins born on American soil, and with at least one "foreign-born" parent, were to run for public office, I would hope that voters would judge them based on their ideas, experience and character above all else. And I would hope that no one would contort their Filipino roots or seek to use their Filipino name against them.
I suggested to all the aunts
and uncles copied on the response that we could exercise the democratic
rights afforded to us in America without demeaning our humanity.
