Yes We Can, and now, Yes We Have

And with any luck, Yes We Will Again.

Eight years ago I was a young, naïve thirteen-year-old. I didn’t know much about politics or Barack Obama, but I had heard that George W. Bush had done a bad job in office and had started a war that didn’t seem to be going well. I felt sure that it was a bad idea to elect a man president who shared his party affiliation, so in a cardboard “Kids Vote” booth in my middle school gymnasium I cast a meaningless vote for Barack Obama, whose speeches were the only ones on CSPAN that I enjoyed listening to.

Four years later I was a little older and a little less naïve. I had studied President Obama’s rhetoric in an AP English class, learned about economics, and discovered that unimpeachable news outlet that all real intellectuals read, The New York Times. I was beginning to become passionate about government and the world around me, even though I was a few short months shy of eighteen and would not vote in the 2012 presidential election. In lieu of casting a vote, I instead attempted to exert my influence by being politically outspoken within my high school.

I recall having heated debates with other outspoken students in my American Government class. (One of my smartest adversaries, Andrew Desiderio, is now a prolific contributor at The Daily Beast; I suggest looking into his work.) I recall proudly proclaiming my views over social media with magniloquent Facebook statuses. I recall harshly excoriating on Twitter a younger girl who had raised questions about the President’s faith. I regret the supercilious way I handled that particular situation, but I stand by the sentiment.

That was four years ago, and today I’m older still and a lot less naïve. This year I will at last have the opportunity to cast a ballot in a presidential election, and that’s a civic responsibility I don’t take lightly. It’s prompted me to educate myself, not just on today’s issues or the platforms of today’s candidates, but on the broader American story — the words and actions of leaders past that have so deeply transformed our country.

And the more I learn — the more I gaze back into history — the more clear it becomes that I have been lucky enough to live through the historic presidency of an exceptional man. And so, after his moving, optimistic address last night at the Democratic National Convention, I want to thank President Obama for all that he’s done for our country.

I want to thank him for bringing us out of the worst recession since the Great Depression, cutting unemployment in half, and creating opportunity for young people like me, whose prospects once seemed grim. I want to thank him for the Affordable Care Act, which has taken a tremendous burden off of the shoulders of families like my uncle’s, who have struggled to find jobs that provide coverage and who couldn’t have afforded care for two special needs children without the ACA. I want to thank him for his leadership on the Paris Agreement, which will ensure a better, more sustainable world for me and my children.

President Obama’s work has been incomplete and imperfect, but it is progress — it points forward. Martin Luther King reminds us, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it points towards justice,” and under Barack Obama’s leadership, that arc has grown a little longer, and we have come a little closer to justice and to the high ideals set forth by our founding fathers.

Most of all, I want to thank President Obama for his words, which I know will echo in the American narrative for centuries to come. And I’m not just talking about the emotional, encouraging valedictory he gave last night. I’m also talking about the speech the then senate candidate gave at the same convention twelve years ago, when he reminded us of what our nation’s credo really means:

“Alongside our famous individualism, there is another ingredient in the American saga — a belief that we’re all connected as one people. If there is a child on the south side of Chicago who can’t read, that matters to me even if it’s not my child. If there’s a senior citizen somewhere who can’t pay for their prescription drugs and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even it it’s not my grandmother. It is that fundamental belief; I am my brother’s keeper; I am my sister’s keeper; that makes this country work. E Pluribus Unum — out of many, one.”

I’m also talking about his 2008 speech at the Constitution Center in my hometown of Philadelphia, given shortly before he was first elected. There, he reminded us of the work still to be done in pursuit of the high ideals set forth by our founding fathers:

“Words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part — through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk — to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.”

I’m also talking about the soaring state of the union address he gave earlier this year — the last he’ll deliver — when he reminded us of the difficult changes that are shaping our world and that we must rise to the challenges they present:

“We live in a time of extraordinary change — change that’s reshaping the way we live, the way we work, our planet, our place in the world. It’s change that promises amazing medical breakthroughs, but also economic disruptions that strain working families. It promises education for girls in the most remote villages, but also connects terrorists plotting an ocean away. It’s change that can broaden opportunity, or widen inequality. And whether we like it or not, the pace of this change will only accelerate.”

I’m even talking about his words at all eight of the White House Correspondents Dinners over which he’s presided, where he annually reminded us that he’s the kind of guy we’d all like to grab a beer with.

Even if President Obama’s political legacy has been imperfect, his rhetorical one is not. Few presidents have ever possessed the same rhetorical prowess that Barack Obama exhibited last night; his oratorical jersey will hang forever on the rafters next to Roosevelt’s, Washington’s, Lincoln’s.

Saying goodbye to President Obama last night was a bittersweet experience for me and, I imagine, many other Americans. In this year’s election we can hope for a leader with his diplomacy, level-headedness, and determination, but it could be decades before we encounter another man or woman with his stalwart character, elegant rhetoric, and grand vision for America.

Yes, it is easy to feel sour about the state American politics, which seems marred by scandal, gridlock, and demagoguery. But I am imbued with President Obama’s optimism — his audacious hope. Because of him, I believe wholeheartedly in the promise of a better tomorrow for my country.

Thank you for everything, President Obama. If your successor is half the leader you were, then America has a bright future.