Remember, Remember the 4th of November

My generation woke up different today.

I've always been proud of where I come from - as long as we're talking about New York. If you were an Austrian or a Brazilian or a Swede, I'd tell you I come from New York. New York is a place people are proud to be from and a place that the international community respects, unlike the US as a whole. If I ever plainly said that I was an American, it was with an apologetic shrug and a promise that No, I didn't vote for Bush.

I think a lot of people have felt that way for a long time. The difference is that while older generations had some sense of what they had lost, we didn't. We came to political consciousness in the age of George Bush and fear politics; in the time of Katrina, global warming and radical conservatism; of Guantanamo Bay and two seemingly endless wars. In the grand scheme of history, these are all very recent events. To my generation, however, they are the only thing we have ever really known. We don't remember trusting our government. We don't remember not fearing our leaders. We don't remember when we could say we were Americans without a sense of shame because for most of us, that time never existed.

I don't mean we haven't been proud at some points. We are the post-9/11 generation, afterall. In the wake of a Tuesday in September, we watched rescue workers scoured the rubble and save people day after day. We watched strangers take in strangers in the wake of tragedy. We tried to contemplate, without reference, how everything was changing.

I was 15 at the time.

I felt a sense of pride in my country then. I think a lot of young people did. Watching national neighbors band together in the face of adversity was heartening and most definately something to be proud of. But it was a pride grown from despair, piled on top of emptiness, hurt and above all, fear. We were proud of "our fellow Americans", but that pride and unity toppled like a deck of cards under the weight of fear and anger.

Until November 4th, 2008.

At 11 o'clock last night, I felt something different. I felt excitement as I jumped on the furniture in Capitol Brewery. I felt joy as we celebrated in the streets. I felt love as 93% of DC went out of their way to express gratitude and relief. I felt pride.

All around the world, leaders and civilians alike are lauding the election, proclaiming a new day for absolutely everyone. We chose a leader based for once not on fear, but on hope. My generation ran to the polls after years of being told we didn't care. My country chose a leader who is intelligent and well-spoken, considerate and ready to lead not just to a select group of U.S. citizens, but the world. I really believe that. I think a lot of us do.

On November 5th the older generations of America woke up with a sense that things were finally getting back on track, that we could be proud again.

Most of my generation, however, awoke for the first time with a sense of national pride based not on what was done to us, but on what we did. For the first time, ever, I and others like me were truly proud to be a part of the United States of America.

And that itself is change indeed.