Dear Barack,
May I call you Barack? It feels like we’ve shared so much over the past eight years that referring to you as Mr. President just doesn’t capture our journey. Reflecting on our time together, I find it hard to believe it’s come to an end. To say I will miss you feels like an understatement. If I were there, I might just wrap my arms around your legs and plead for you to stay. Yet, I know it’s time for you to move on, and you absolutely deserve a moment of peace.
When I graduated from college in May 2008, I was left with crushing debt and fading hopes. The economic downturn had begun just weeks before my graduation, leaving me jobless and searching for a beacon of hope. When you secured the Democratic nomination, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Your rallying cry of “Yes, we can” resonated deeply with me. You became the hero I had been longing for.
Voting for you was a proud moment. Standing beside my mother in that school gym, I felt a swell of pride as I cast my vote for the first black president of the United States. Honestly, I thought I’d be telling my grandkids about this moment. Watching you take the stage with Michelle, Sasha, and Malia brought tears to my eyes, and I was similarly emotional as you took the oath of office. That night, seeing you and Michelle share a dance to “At Last” made me cry all over again.
You stood strong against a nation that wanted you to fail. When a mob, led by our current president-elect, attacked your American identity based on your heritage, you and Michelle maintained your grace, like two swans unbothered by the storm around you. Whenever I face adversity, I ask myself WWOD (What Would Obama Do)? It helps me let go of negativity. You navigated the country through turbulent times, striving to revive the economy. I still wish you’d tackled student loan debt, but I understand the complex political landscape.
Gradually, things improved. I found a job, though I had to step back from my dreams of acting to manage my finances. I remember vividly the night the Navy Seals captured Bin Laden—being from New York, it felt like a personal victory. That marked a turning point in your presidency, and we all sensed your growing confidence. By the 2012 election, I knew you wouldn’t lose. Despite the Republicans’ attempts to undermine you, we stood strong. I was working as the results rolled in, and when California secured your victory, I toasted with a nice bottle of wine.
Your final four years were a rollercoaster of emotions. We grieved together over tragedies like school shootings and the injustices faced by Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, and Michael Brown. It felt like a heavy burden, but we also celebrated joyous milestones. Your announcement of the Affordable Care Act brought tears of happiness, as did the news of marriage equality. You faced every challenge with strength and poise, and my faith in you never wavered.
Thank you for championing the arts and infusing culture into the White House. You hosted unforgettable celebrations, never hesitating to dance or sing. Your support for artists like Lin-Manuel Miranda was invaluable, and you created spaces for black voices in the arts to flourish.
Most importantly, thank you for being a devoted husband and father. Your open love for Michelle has inspired many to understand what a healthy relationship looks like. Watching you speak about your daughters with admiration made me aspire to be a better parent.
I now have a son who shares similarities with you. He, too, is mixed-race, with a white father and a black mother. Raised by a single mom, he has a close bond with his grandmother. While he won’t remember your presidency, I can’t wait to tell him that if you could achieve the impossible, so can he. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
With all my love and admiration,
Samantha Lee
In conclusion, your presidency has been a remarkable journey for many, encapsulating hope, resilience, and progress. Your legacy will continue to inspire future generations, reminding us to strive for our dreams and stand against adversity.