Doing the doggone thang.

"Here I am baby
Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm yours
(You got my future in your hands)

Here I am baby
Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm yours
(You got my future in your hands). . "

~ from Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered"

 

Do you have any idea how it feels to sit on your couch and see and hear an African-American woman (with whom you can fully identify) speaking to the entire world with such poise and eloquence? Of course, you do. Because, unless you were under a rock, you were watching when this one did.

Now.

Imagine seeing and hearing this in 2012 as someone who looks like her. Imagine knowing that in your own parents' lifetime that a woman just like her would have been publicly called "nigra" or "gal" straight to her beautiful face. Which means I would have, too. Publicly (not cowardly-privately as is still done to this day.)

Look.

I do have some political opinions. I do. But that's not the point of this. The point is that this shows some evolution. This. An era where Michelle Obama can take the stage baring her fit arms and shaking her beautiful hair (that you all have a better understanding of just how it got that way as readers of this blog) AND with Stevie Wonder (Stevie Wonder, y'all!) blaring in the background.

Wow.

Seeing her up there made me think of the day that I reflected on what it would have been like if I'd worked at Grady or been on the Emory faculty fifty years ago. If you read that post, you already know the answer to that: I wouldn't have been. Period. End of story. For one very simple reason that I happen to have in common with this woman pictured above.

And let's just be clear. This is not her first time on that stage. Yet  something about hearing her last night felt pivotal to me. Especially as one who looks like her. And no, she is not the first black woman to stand on a stage at the convention for a major political party. Even this year.

But.

She is the first one to take that stage this year that happens to be one with whom we can identify. And by we, I mean me. But honestly? Probably a whole lot more than me, too.

Now.

Let me just go ahead speak on this as one black woman who happens to be closely connected to many, many other black women. This woman is one that my friends and me and most sisters that I know personally can truly see pieces of ourselves in. She is our homegirl, our sorority sister, our girlfriend in the hair salon, our mentor, our double dutch buddy in the neighborhood, our style icon, our fellow mama, and our college classmate. She seems to be the one that most represents us. And while I really don't spend much time tearing down those reality housewives-slash-reality baby-mamas, I am putting my foot down and saying dammit, those black women do not represent me or any of my sista-friends.

No, they do not.

So let them entertain you. And sure, we'll admit that they entertain us (but mostly embarrass us) a little bit, too. But those women? Not a single one of them makes me stand to my feet and say, "Now that's what I'M talking about!"

No, they do not. But she did. Last night she sure did.

But I digress.

Look. I know that there's a whole world full of Michelle Obamas out there. Sisters with their terminal degrees who love their husbands and fight for their kids and try to get their exercise and who, as the sistas say, "do the doggone thang!" every single day. There is also a world full of Michelle Obamas who don't share her cocoa complexion or her educational accomplishments or even her marital status, but who identify with her "realness" just like I can.

So as for yesterday? All of us were proud. Every last Michelle Obama was on her feet and snapping her fingers. The short ones. The tall ones. The old ones. The young ones. The black ones. The white ones. And all the ones in between. 'Cause yesterday she did the doggone thang. Which pushes us to do it, too.

(Insert finger snap here.)

***
Happy Wednesday.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . what Mrs. Obama came strutting out to the podium to. YAAAASSSSS!