Living in the era of Trump, I often think of the Obamas with a kind of wistful nostalgia, as if I’m remembering a previous home that I can no longer return to. Obama was our president, yes, but he also, somehow, had some absent place in my family. He was mentioned in church almost every Sunday, the pastor often remarking about how “cool” he was and how much “swag” he had when he walked. My grandmother loved him, and long after she’d gotten too sick to go much of anywhere, she left the house to vote for him in 2012…

Kamaria D. Beamon

Writer. Master of Social Work Candidate at University of Georgia. A Black woman who keeps finding herself in the gray area.

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