Like many Americans, I voted on Tuesday, November 4, 2008. The line was short at 10:30am, and the process was fast - I had already made my decisions. And, I'm proud to say, like the majority of Americans, I cast my ballot for Barack Obama. (As I write this, spellcheck underlines both words of his name. Hmm.) That night, the world watched with bated breath, wondering if hope for change and a new direction would prevail. Would it be decided early or, like the 2000 presidential election, would it take a month or more before it was finalized? Immediately following the poll closings at 11pm EST, we had our answer. Watching the television intently, I saw images of people first cheering, then weeping. Jesse Jackson was teary-eyed. Oprah looked simultaneously relieved and incredulous as she watched President-elect Barack Hussein Obama take the stage in Grant Park as the 44th President of the United States. People were crying in Chicago, in Harlem, in Washington, D.C., and in Kenya. And we, in a little apartment in Kingston, Rhode Island, joined them unabashedly. I did not live through the Civil Rights Movement. I never heard Martin Luther King, Jr. speak. And I can never, nor would I attempt, to claim that I know what it feels like to be a racial minority. But I recognized immediately the weight of these things, carried on the shoulders of 64,415,154 voters. I saw it on their faces, as they celebrated victory. I felt barriers shattering around me, and as Obama spoke, I saw it in his eyes. Change has come.
Watch a video of Obama's acceptance speech
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